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ghostandsoap · 2 years

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Every Scar Has a Story

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Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader

Tags: Post-Smut (I’ll owe y’all one LOL). Domestic Ghost. Referenced child abuse. Past child abuse.

Word Count: 3.0k

“What are you thinking about then?”

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A content sigh fell from Simon’s lips as he collapsed back onto the pillows on his bed.

His grip on your waist loosened which allowed you to unstraddle him and join him on the mattress. He grinned at you as your naked body piled onto his. If he could relive this moment forever, he’d never complain. He could feel the rapid thumps of your heartbeat against his chest – a sign that you were pumped full of energy and adrenaline. The flat of one of his large hands trailed up and down the length of your back, a gentle motion as a way of relaxing you back to normal.

He had never experienced a moment more serene than the post-orgasm high. It was one he adored, and one that he loved to witness you in the middle of.

“You alright, love?” He took deep breaths in an attempt to settle his own body.

It was such a simple question, and one that he asked every time you made love. Simon knew that he wasn’t always the gentlest person on the planet, and he never wanted to unintentionally be too rough with you.

“Mmhm,” You hummed, looking up at him through glazed (yet satisfied) eyes. “Perfect.”

That look.

It absolutely drove him wild in the best of ways. It sent a flush of warmth and desire over him every single time without fail. Simon couldn’t understand how someone as flawless and wonderful as you could ever even think of seeing him as worthy.

He rolled you over to crash next to him, a smile appearing on his face when you giggled. He wrapped an arm around you to pull you in as close as possible, loving every second of having you pressed up against him. The two of you had “gone to bed” almost three hours ago, around 11:00 p.m. or so. You had fallen asleep within a few minutes, but Ghost (who had always struggled when it came to sleeping) stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to your slow breathing as you slept.

Ghost had gotten used to sleepless nights over the course of his life. It was when his mind was the busiest…when his mind was the loudest. He was patient on nights like this, the ones where he couldn’t mellow out enough to get some decent rest. As long as you were comfortable and safe, he could lie awake for as long as he needed to. But when you started to stir around 1:45 a.m., he couldn’t help but take the opportunity.

It had happened a couple of times over the course of your relationship. Waking up just enough in the middle of the night to have sex and then both of you (or one of you, depending on the day) falling back asleep. He had nudged you awake when you had rustled in bed next to him, pestering you awake to kiss you as his sign of arousal. He didn’t feel too bad about waking you up. It’s not like you had ever complained about it.

“You gonna go back to sleep?” Simon asked, secretly hoping you’d stay awake with him, but not wanting you to if you wanted the rest.

“Only if you are.”

“I don’t think that’s happening tonight, lovely.” He kissed your forehead.

“Can’t sleep?” You questioned.

“No,” He answered. “But I’m okay. Not tired.”

Simon had impeccable energy. He didn’t need sleep more often than not. It was impressive to most, envied by some. But he knew that most people wouldn’t want that trait if they knew that it was a survival skill that he had perfected over the years.

Sleeping meant being unaware. Being unaware meant being vulnerable to the world. Being vulnerable meant opening a door to danger. Simon had learned long ago that keeping that door closed was safest.

“I’m not tired either.” You sighed.

“You will be,” He returned. “Don’t wait up just for me.”

“I want to though.”

Simon’s heart did a leap. There was something so incredibly comforting about the thought of you doing something with or for him just because you wanted to.

Time at home was…bittersweet for Simon. He didn’t exactly love when he was sent home before going back out into the field again. He understood that it was necessary, not to mention mandatory. He knew that he needed some time at home, away from the hustle and bustle of Task Force 141. It was the only way to ensure that he could continue to go out with his team when they needed him. Simon Riley might’ve been a freak of nature, but even he needed his breaks.

Getting sent home meant a lot of quiet time for Simon. In years past, returning to his home front meant returning to an empty home with no one to share his space with. At certain points in his life, he would even admit that he preferred it that way. Simon wasn’t graced with complete self-isolation very often. His career didn’t exactly allow that.

But as he got older (and maybe even just a little bit softer on the inside), the more and more he realized that flying solo isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

It was even harder to come home when he knew that meant being separated from you.

The first time that you and Simon were sent home to your respective stomping grounds, he severely underestimated the effect it would have on him. It was a short leave, shorter than the typical time that you were usually sent home for. He could manage a few months, no problem. Before he knew it, the two of you would be deployed back on a mission and it would be like no time had passed at all. Besides, he knew the two of you could text and call at any time. It wouldn’t be that different.

Oh, but how wrong he was.

Almost four weeks into the three month leave, Simon was practically begging you to come see him. He had found that his apartment felt unbearably lonely, and not being able to see you whenever he wanted to was torture. He felt anxious that he couldn’t be with you in person. He didn’t care how he had to get you there, but he needed to get it done. Sure enough, you were on his doorstep two days after he called you in a near meltdown, with enough belongings packed to get you through the rest of the three month period.

Simon’s mood had drastically improved following your arrival. As a matter of fact, he didn’t realize just how worse off he was without you. Fast forward to one month after your arrival, and with one more month left before the two of you were set to return, Simon had definitely gotten used to having you around.

“What do you think Johnny’s doing right now?” Simon suddenly asked, which made you raise a brow.

“I don’t know,” You laughed. “Why do you ask?”

“He does some odd stuff on leave. I was wondering what kind of stories we’ll get to hear when we go back.” Simon clarified.

“Who knows. It’s Soap,” You snorted. “I’m not exactly thinking about Soap at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah?” He purred, his fingers running through your hair. “What are you thinking about then?”

“You.”

Simon twitched when he felt the feather-like touch of your index fingertip trailing along the bone of his collar. It tickled him, and he hadn’t been expecting it. You were lovingly caressing him, staring at him with adoration. Simon had gotten used to you doing frivolous things like that. It freaked him out in the beginning, because he wasn’t used to someone doing an act of affection just because they felt like it.

You were following along the path of the scar that was on his collarbone. It was about three inches wide or so, and even though it had faded over time, it was still clear even in the barely lit bedroom.

“What is this one from?” You asked, propping up on your elbow to get a better look at it.

This one.

Simon almost laughed at the wording of your question. He wondered how many people were able to say that to their significant other. “This one” referred to the fact that he had multiple scars from multiple different injuries. It wasn’t conventional, but he found it amusing considering that you were in the same boat. A dangerous career meant dangerous encounters. It was impossible not to have some scars here and there.

“I think that one was when I got stabbed by the Russian last fall,” He said. “Remember him?”

Simon also found it funny that he wasn’t even totally certain if that was how he earned that one. When someone had as many as he did, the reasons behind them sometimes blended together.

“Oh, yeah. He was a big dude.” You shuddered.

Simon chuckled. That was putting it lightly. He watched as you scanned over his frame, trying to locate another one that you were (or maybe weren’t familiar with).

In so many ways, you enjoyed his company as well. Seeing Simon in such a casual setting was new for you. It was refreshing to know that he really was like everyone else. He enjoyed watching sports games, ordering takeout, and spending a lazy day at home just like you did.

Not to mention the major elephant in the room, Simon didn’t wear the mask at home.

This was the longest extended period of time that you had seen him without the mask. Here and there he had put his balaclava on, but for the most part – he had been maskless. Of course you had seen him without a mask before this – but only twice. The first time had been a complete accident, and the second had been intentional in Simon’s first show of trust to you in private.

Even though his bedroom’s only source of light was currently coming from the streets below and outside of his apartment, you could see his face as clear as ever. He was so beautifully handsome. It was amazing to you that there were so few people that knew what he looked like. You knew better than to comment on that. He never gave more than a vanilla answer to any kind of statement regarding the mask.

But that didn’t stop you from trying.

“You’re so cute without the mask.” You hummed, finding a small scar just between his nose and the apple of his left cheek.

“Oh, don’t start with all that.” He groaned, but the pink flush in his cheeks let you know that he liked it just a teeny bit.

“Come on,” You whined. “What about this one? Did you take a knife tip to the face in a struggle?”

“That’s from the first time shaving on my own, darling,” He almost laughed. “How else would I have a scar on my face?”

“What do you mean?” You quirked your head.

“I wear the mask, my lovely. Not exactly easy to take damage to the face.”

You supposed that did make sense, and you didn’t dwell on it long.

“This one is from the fire in that shack in Mexico, right?” You pointed towards a burn scar on the skin of his right bicep.

“Yeah, because the shape is similar to the scar you have on your forearm.” He remarked.

Instinctively, you raised your right forearm to compare the two scars. Sure enough, they were nearly the same shape and size.

“Well…mine is from a hot curling iron,” You snorted. “That’s the one that sticks out to you? Not the scar from metal shrapnel in my knee or from when I got shot in the side in France?”

“It’s the one I remember best because it looks just like mine.” He explained.

‘You know, they say soulmates have matching scars.’ Something that Simon had said to you once in passing. You had taken it as a joke, but Simon couldn’t have been more serious.

“They’re hardly the same.” You smiled.

“A burn is a burn.” He shrugged.

It was a bit of a weird game, he would admit. The two of you did this every so often, comparing scars and reminiscing on how you got them. In a way, it was therapeutic. It also reminded you to be thankful that it wasn’t the injury that made you meet your demise.

You and Simon both shared scars from stab wounds, gunshot wounds, burns, and cuts of varying degrees. It came with the territory, and it was almost like trophy collecting at this point. The two of you had grown accustomed to them, and most of the time you didn’t even notice them anymore.

Simon never minded letting you ogle over him in an attempt to find a mark that you hadn’t noticed before. He found it endearing, perhaps a little unfair because he knew there wasn’t a single part of you that he hadn’t noticed already.

Simon felt you examine his torso and legs, scanning over him carefully for another scar to ask about. Not a part of him went unsearched (including his face, where he greedily stole kisses when you got close). You studied his shoulders, biceps (spending a little extra time there – it had always been your favorite part of him), and elbows all the way down to his forearms.

He didn’t think much of it. Not until he felt your fingers dance over a certain scar that sent his blood from rushing warm to ice cold. A million signals traveled through his system at once – a defense mechanism of sorts.

“What’s this one?” You touched over a mark on his forearm that was much more distinctive than the rest.

It wasn’t remarkably large. It was about the size of a dime, maybe a tad smaller. But its shape wasn’t like anything you had ever seen on yourself or anybody for that matter. It was just barely risen above the skin, and based on the goosebumps that had appeared on his arm – you knew this one was special.

“That one is…older.” He spoke, his voice lower and much more guarded.

You removed your fingers from it because even though he didn’t say it, you could tell that he didn’t like you touching it. The few times that you had accidentally hit a sore spot for him, he put this quick wall up. Identifying it had become easy for you. Pressing forward usually didn’t seem like the best idea, but ignoring it wasn’t very helpful either.

“Older…?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He nodded, voice neutral and deep. “My father smoked.”

Your eyes took another glance at it, using context clues to put the pieces together. What you knew of his father (and you would confess that it was very little) painted him to be the most evil, sinister person to ever walk the planet. Simon had divulged small details here and there, a childhood story every now and again. Needless to say, you knew that his father (and his younger days in general) were not the highlights of his life.

“Oh,” You swallowed, a queasy feeling overtaking your stomach. “I’m sorry.”

Simon’s dark brown eyes met your downcast ones at the sound of your voice being so retracted and soft. Simon could read you like a book. He didn’t want you feeling guilty for asking questions that you had no way of knowing the answer to. You were the last person that he wanted to be uncomfortable at his expense.

“Hey,” He shifted to also sit up on his elbow. “Not your fault. You didn’t know.”

What was ironic was that cigarette burn was the most minor damage left behind by his father. It was something that he could forget…and most of the time he did. The physical injuries were a blip. It was the other stuff – the more hurtful, intense, and…psychological stuff that took the hardest toll on him.

“What happened? When he…burned you?” You continued cautiously.

Simon didn’t blame you for asking questions. If it were the other way around and he knew that someone had hurt you, he’d want to know everything too. But the fact of the matter was that it was buried so far deep in his past that he hardly felt any real reason to dwell on it. Maybe it was his way of deflecting, avoiding old feelings that he never quite came to terms with.

“Darling, I…it’s not personal, I just…” He sighed, unsure of how to gently turn your question down. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

You gave an understanding nod, knowing that line wasn’t ready to be crossed.

“I just feel like I always bring up bad memories for you.” You nearly whispered.

“You don’t. Most of the time I bring it up on my own,” He assured you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you sure?” You squeaked.

He gave a genuine smile, one that was usually hidden by a skull-adorned fabric.

“Positive,” He pulled you back into his side. “After all, why focus on the past when you could focus on the future?”

“And what do you have in mind, Lieutenant?” You snickered.

He rolled over, hovering over you and trapping you between himself and the mattress.

“Something I think you’ll really go for, Gecko.”

“Mm. Using my call sign? Must be really important.” You went on.

“Something like that.” He kissed you then, keeping you from asking any more questions on that subject.

Simon knew that with time, he’d be more willing to talk about his father. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you with that information. Quite the opposite, actually. But in a certain way, not talking about it made Simon feel like it wasn’t real. If he never brought it up, then he could keep it in the past – where it belonged. He didn’t want his past to define his future, and keeping his past alive wasn’t of any interest to him.

He wasn’t lying when he said he’d rather focus on the future. He was so much more in tune with you and continuing what you had than anything else in his life. He liked the Ghost and Gecko dynamic, and he was forever grateful for the utter joy it had brought to him. Most importantly, he was forever thankful for the love being shown to him that he had missed out on.

The love that you had shown him.

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aurorawhisperz · 1 year

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lovers (e.l.)

contains: smut 18+ (grinding, fingering, oral, p in v), fluff, ethan being a tease, implied relationship, swearing.

ethan landry x fem!reader

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You and the group had decided to go to a vacation cottage over the summer, and of course, it was fun. The ride on the way there was cozy—you and Ethan were tired from waking up so early so you decided to fall asleep on each other’s shoulders, and Anika —the playful one she is, decided to whip out her phone and take pictures. But Mindy decided there just had to be rules.

The one that stood out from all the other rules was “No sex, have some decency for the housekeepers.”

Of course, this would be hard knowing how needy your boyfriend was, Mindy probably knew this so she decided she’d put you in the same bedroom as her and Anika, keeping you away from Ethan.

Stories were shared over the first few nights, and you might have sneaked into Ethan and Chad’s room once just to get some cuddle time—but you got yanked apart by Mindy.

In the middle of the night, Ethan found himself alone in the pool, simply glowing because of the moon and the lights combined.

Unbeknownst to him, you stepped outside. He seemed so pretty, with his abs seen below the surface—leaning back, his curls were dripping.

You wore a black nightgown that fell right in the middle of your thighs, the night air was cooling the skin of your legs—and you were smiling at the sight of Ethan letting the water carry him away.

It was all so serene.

You approached his edge of the pool and dipped your legs in, you didn’t have a swimsuit, so this was all you had.

“Hey,” You called softly, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled, “Get in?” He motions to the water, and you let out a smile before shaking your head, “I don’t have a swimsuit, and I don’t do skinny dipping.”

He walks in front of you, right in front of your legs. Placing his hands on your thighs. He used those stupid puppy eyes as he spoke, “It’s fine, it’s..not like it’ll kill you. Please?”

“You’re obnoxious.” You giggle, lacing his fingers that was once rubbing circles on your plush thighs.

Ethan used that as a way to pull you in, sneaky. “Eth!” You shouted, and he shushes you with his finger. “Be grateful—they don’t put security cameras around here.” He places a hand under your thigh and has your legs around his waist. You place your arms around his neck.

“The water’s cold” You groan, he lets out a breathy laugh then stares deep into your eyes with his piercing gaze. “I like it that way.” Ethan lowered his voice, you tilted your head when he tried to do a ‘seductive tone’ thing there.

He placed his hand on your lower back, “You’re pretty.” Ethan tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You placed a hand on his cheek and gave him a small peck—he pulled you closer. Hand falling from his jawline to his shoulder.

Ethan gave you a passionate kiss, waiting for the right moment. You parted your lips, and he slipped his tongue in. Tilting your head as he hummed.

His grip on your thighs grew tighter.

You were practically stuffing your mouth with him. All that you could think about was that you were his, and he was yours.

He rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back as Ethan kissed you harder.

You stopped suddenly when you felt his hips jolt up into yours, pulling away a bit. Your faces are inches away from each other, and you can feel his breathless state.

His eyes were dark—the small hint of light indicated lust.

Ethan leans in for a needy kiss, but you use his shoulders to keep him still. You lean down and leave kisses on his jawline, then on his neck.

His fingers toy with the silver necklace he gave you during the earliest stages of your relationship as you do so. You pull away to kiss him again, the boy’s lip were so soft and swollen.

His hands move up to your collarbone, soothing it. Your chin lifts up, you were so responsive. Ethan wraps a hand around your neck, not squeezing, but just holding onto it. The kiss was wild and breathless, he was grinding into you as he did so. “Please.” He whined in between kisses.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips in response, “Touch me.” You whispered to his good ear.

His big hands, veins revealing—lifted your nightgown up and dipped into your panties. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of his finger circling your clit.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Ethan slid you even closer, you were chest-to-chest. Your breathing was even more audible when his middle finger entered you, curling and pumping.

He smirked into the kiss at the feeling of your heat.

He slid his ring finger into you and started curling even more. The size of his hands made it possible for the his fingertips to touch that spot of yours.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” You groaned, “I won’t.”

Your orgasm was getting closer and closer, and you tucked your head into Ethan’s neck. Your breath was hot and he felt it.

He thrusted his fingers in and out of you faster, and his thumb adding pressure on your clit was the last straw. You threw your head back in pleasure and Ethan pulled you in for a kiss.

You whined in overstimulation when his fingers were still going with the pleasure from your clit.

“If you can go longer without my cock-”

“I can’t..please, I can’t”.

“If you say so.”

The rest of the moment went by in a blur—Ethan picking you up and heading into the bathroom, where he placed you on the counter.

The way he kneeled between your legs, pulling down your wet panties and started placing kisses to your inner thighs—teasing your hole with his finger.

Ethan’s arms moved up and down your legs to keep you down.

His tongue slipped through your folds, and Ethan immediately sucked your arousal in. He fucked his tongue into you as his nose nudged your clit with every movement.

Your head moved up to watch him, his eyes were looking up at you grimly. Letting out a breathy moan when he felt your hand in his curly head of hair.

His hot breath hit your clit, and you whimpered weakly, your thighs closing around his head. Legs shaking uncontrollably.

“So sweet.” He said as he lapped up your juices. When his nose nudged your swollen bud, you came without warning.

The harder you pulled on his hair—the more shaken you were from the pleasure.

He didn’t stop till you were begging, wishing, waiting and ACHING for his dick.

Ethan chuckled and stood up, grabbing a condom from the drawer. The way he tore the silver wrapper with his teeth turned you on even more. He grabbed you by the waist, and your lips are about to touch until he slides into you. His head threw back in pleasure. “Fuck.” He exclaimed, you moaned softly at his slow and sensual pace.

JUST FEELING MY WAY BACK TO YOU

Your sounds were like music to his ears. He gave every fibre in his body to stop himself from completely ruining you.

You felt closer and closer, you then grabbed him by his chin as you propped yourself up with one elbow and gave him an open-mouthed kiss. In the moment of complete bliss, it was just you and him—nothing to interrupt.

Heart fluttering, butterflies in your stomach, the overwhelming pleasure. Sure, you had sex before but not this romantic. You had always liked the idea of sex just not being about pleasure, but a chance to boost intimacy.

SHOW A LITTLE LOVING

SHINE A LITTLE LIGHT ON ME

He gave his all not to start pounding into you up to the point where you got hurt. “Jesus, Eth.” You whine, back arching against him at the growing feeling in your stomach.

“Yeah?”

“You feel so good.”

“You feel even better.” He pressed a light kiss to the tip of your nose. Ethan’s body felt so warm against yours. Warm—curious to do more, and needy.

The mirror behind you had gotten blurry from the steam in the room, it had been filled with panting and moaning.

The sounds of his cock going in and out of you turned you on even more, and you threw your head back at the music to your ears.

Ethan then takes your free hand to run over his chest, until it falls down to his hand. Your fingers lace together, sexual electricity flowing through both your veins.

He brings his mouth to yours after he releases what could be a whimper. Fingers digging into your hips, they’ll for sure leave marks, but your hickeys would be even more noticeable.

He was completely lost in the sensation. Opening up fully for him—you wrap your legs around him, and the new angle was even more torturous.

“I’m close.” He breathes out.

“Do it.”

You didn’t need to repeat yourself, he started pounding into you. Moans were freely leaving both your mouths at this point. Ethan pulls down the strap of your nightgown to show your tits, and he massages them. Stimulating.

The knot in your stomach finally snapped. You let out a moan, but then covered your mouth quickly, in hopes of not waking the others up. Your eyes stared deeply into his, and he grabbed your chin. “Good girl.”

His thrusts were torturous and fast, riding out his high, his curls over you. You fix his hair while he uses you.

“Fuck!” He exclaims, his warmth spilling into the condom, panting. You giggle, breathless.

Ethan leans down and kisses you passionately, it was so different—so intimate. He exhales deeply before pulling out of you, “If I ever get to fuck you raw, it’ll feel even better, sweetheart.” He runs a finger over your cheek, his other hand moving down to grab your ass—squeezing it.

You stare up at him, his eyes blown and hair, a mess.

A shade of pink colored both your cheeks—sweat beads formed.

“At least Mindy won’t know about this.”

“Yet.” You interrupt, “Cool it on being clingy in the morning, either her or Chad will know.”

He giggles and kisses your forehead. You tilted your head as permission, he began kissing down your collarbone and then the sweet spot on your neck was lightly bitten, earning him a muffled moan from you.

He puts his lips to your good ear, your release and the heat making you sensitive—it tickles, “Yes, ma’am.”

Ethan was yours, and you were his. Anything else is unthinkable.

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impala-dreamer · 3 months

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Tell Me about ...the hair swipe

Begging For It

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Sexy and Delicious, 18+

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

It was such a simple gesture. The sweep of fingers through long dark hair; the subtle shake of his head as the hair fell back into place. It was an unconscious motion that he barely took note of, just something that his hand decided to do now and then. It wasn’t important, it didn’t mean anything. It was just something that he did.

Something that drove her absolutely wild.

Y/N watched from across the big living room as Jensen pushed a hand through his hair again. He’d been letting it grow out lately, and he’d never looked more handsome. Occasionally, he’d threaten to cut it, so shave the beard, to go back to trying to look younger, but Y/N wouldn’t have it. She’d beg him to keep the hair longer, refuse to let him dye the grays from his chin. He was stunning in every way, eye crinkles and all.

No stranger to his beauty, Y/N had no trouble ever looking at her man, but there was something extra in that hair swipe. There was just something about it that drew her attention, blocking out the world around them. Something so intimate in the way his fingers slid through his hair that made her heart race and her breathing slow. She wanted his hands on her body, wanted those fingers sliding through something even more luxurious and warm.

The party was loud. Someone was strumming a guitar off in a corner, and friends were chattering around her, but Y/N was lost to it all. She existed in a soft, pink bubble of arousal, the feeling growing stronger the longer she kept her eyes on him.

Jensen could feel her staring and looked up with a shy grin. “What?” he mouthed, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

Y/N bit her lip and cocked a brow. She lifted her glass to her lips and sought out the tiny plastic straw without looking. “I want you,” she replied silently, accentuating the pucker of her lips and closing them around the straw. She took a sip and the vodka and lime mixed on her tongue.

Jensen licked his lips and looked down at his lap. He had a way of making himself seem so small and vulnerable while drawing her in deeper. He lifted his eyes and looked at her through a curtain of hair.

She took a deep breath as the racing pulse settled between her thighs.

He lifted his right hand and her eyes went wide.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and her composure snapped.

He barely knew what was happening as she rushed across the room. The dregs of her drink sloshed from the glass and dampened his knee, but she covered it up quickly as she straddled his lap.

“What’re you do-”

She swallowed his words with a heavy kiss and rolled her hips over his dick. Her free hand tugged through his hair and pulled, making him moan deeply into her mouth.

“Fuck…”

When she pulled back, his eyes were glazed and his lips were full, shining from her kiss.

“You’re making me crazy,” she whispered, leaning to lick at his ear. “Playing with your hair all night like you’re not begging me to pull it.”

Jensen sucked in a private hiss and set his hands on her hips.

If anyone was watching, they’d see how his fingers tensed there, wanting to reach further down and grab her ass, tug her closer, and rut up into her. But, they stayed put, locked around the soft curve of her waist.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he lied, turning circles with his thumbs underneath her shirt.

The secret touch made her skin sizzle and she yanked on his locks once more.

Jensen bucked his hips unconsciously and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Um-”

Y/N smirked against his ear. “Wanna find an empty room?”

He shivered and his grip tightened. “Fuck yes, I do…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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#jensen ackles fanfiction #ejensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #drabble #tell me about

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rookthorne · 3 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐎𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐌𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞

Something was coming, and it was on its way to you — there was no way to save yourself from the devil that set his sights on you, and you were hopeless against the whims of his charm or rugged ways.

And in an act of gratitude and pure innocence, you allowed the devil in, none the wiser for what was to come; no man was without his sins, but better the devil you don’t know.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ꕤ Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ꕤ 5.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ꕤ Explicit threats, attempted assault, non-graphic background character death, Grumpy!Protective!Bucky, fluff ჻჻჻ TROPES: Touch her and you die, Grumpy/Sunshine

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ꕤ Oh no, it's a Grumpy/Sunshine, touch her and you die trope collection in the form of a brooding outlaw — someone stop me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ꕤ Way down We Go by KALEO ꕤ Broken Bones by KALEO ꕤ The River by Blues Saraceno ꕤ The Devil Inside by Daniel Murphy, Anthony Sanudo, Eric Serna ꕤ Deadwood by Really Slow Motion ꕤ Ain't No Devil by Andrea Wasse

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ꕤ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Bad Reputation (February), Wild West AU (April) — Masterlist ꕤ @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟭 — Outlaw AU — Masterlist

𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The bustling street that cut straight through the middle of the local livestock town as the main thoroughfare was overrun with folks going about their day.

Men, clad in leathers and vests with holsters on their hips lined the saloon stairs, while women in an assortment of skirts and blouses rushed with baskets and wares from the general store; their children playing in the mud, dirtying their worn clothes while mothers shrieked their grief over the once clean garments.

You couldn’t help the slight laugh that fell from your lips as you passed by a small boy who was splattered from head to toe in mud, his mother in a tizzy. “Now, Johnny–”

It was a pleasant day. A cool breeze blew through the side streets and over your sun-warmed skin. The basket on your arm was full of wares from your trip to the hunter down the lane, and the saddlebags on your old, trusted mare were lined with provisions from the general store.

Though no matter how pleasant it was, or how many children shrieked with laughter while they ran around your legs in joy, something screamed in the back of your mind that something was wrong — an instinct long honed after working on a ranch since you were only a child.

“Good mornin’, miss.”

You startled from your reverie at the sound of a deep, rasped voice to your right. “Oh–!” The man smiled sympathetically, and you realised with a jolt that it was one of the old sharpshooters — a man well past his prime, but one of the very few that had a shred of decency and sense within the town. “Oh, good morning,” you replied, smiling. “Pleasant day.”

He hummed in reply, and you continued on.

The shade of the awnings overhead disappeared as you walked out into the muddied street, and you blinked from the bright rays — halos of rainbows danced in your vision while the sun warmed your face.

From a way, a few stragglers from the saloon stumbled into view, and you sighed as you caught sight of the haggard appearances and putrid smell. You kept your head down and eyes averted as you neared their stumbling figures and scrunched your nose in disgust.

No decent, respectable man stunk to the high heavens of liquor with a temper to match a lit fuse.

The centre of town came into view, and the further you walked towards one of your last destinations for the day, the stronger the sense of impending something lingered in the air — it crackled with tension, akin to the static before a storm.

Every single man you passed was twitchy, their hands migrating to the holsters on their hips; every woman was hurrying by, faces taut with some unexplained worry.

Instinct — a woman’s intuition — insisted that something was coming.

You looked over your shoulder and cursed your past self for hitching your mare such a distance away. Her broad, muscled frame was no longer in sight through the scurrying crowds — the golden glow of her coat coloured with patches of white impossible to see through the scurry of people.

“Oh, girl,” you mumbled, and you half considered turning tail to head back home.

But the doctor’s office was only a few paces away, you reasoned, and you hurried along, resolutely ignoring the collective, worried gazes from the townsfolk towards the horizon. The muddied skirts of your dress fluttered as you trotted towards the clean building that housed the resident doctor, and the basket over your arm swayed with your gait. Best be fast.

When the heels of your old boots hit the wooden slats of the wrap-around deck, the door to the doctor’s office just within reach, it happened.

Around you, the townsfolk fell deathly silent — not a peep, not a sound. Every last man, woman, and child froze in place and stared, wide-eyed and stricken, down the street, downwind towards the horizon they were so fixated on.

Your stomach turned with nerves. The skin on the back of your neck prickled while your hair stood on end. It was an unnatural silence that pounded against your ears, and the blood that pumped through your veins turned to ice.

Gravely unsettled, you blinked against the instinct to run and hide, in favour or searching for the source.

The steady beat of heavy hooves thundered from down the street. Beside you, a woman and child gasped quietly — you paid them no mind, for the sight of two horses enraptured you.

Muscle and sinew rippled with the gait of their long, lean legs. They walked side by side, the tack on their back, chests, and proud, handsome faces jingled and followed the contours of their broad flanks. Their coats shone under the light of the sun, but there was no mistaking the inked black beneath the splatter of mud from their journey.

It would be almost impossible to tell them apart if it weren’t for the one on the left appearing far calmer than their companion, who snorted proudly and tossed their head.

Your focus moved from the stunning creatures to their riders, and your breath hitched.

The man atop the fiery, fierce horse clothed similarly to his mount. A rippling, black coat barely concealed the hip holsters that held revolvers with ebony accented grips, or the elaborate bandolier wrapped from his shoulder to his waist — the same black leather as his coat, but accented in silver, ornate imagery.

Rifles were strapped to the side of his saddle, long barrelled and scoped alike. From beneath his tilted hat, you could see the flow of jaw length, dark hair that fell in tresses to cover the profile of his face.

A man prepared for war, you thought distantly. He held himself like a soldier — straight-backed and proud, guarded and eyes swivelling to take in the stilted townsfolk.

Though you could not discern what was being said, you watched the man’s mouth move, and his head turned towards his companion.

You followed his gaze and took in the other rider. He sported a blond beard and brown leather, his own coat shorter and far less impressive — a simple rifle and a hunter’s bow was strapped to his saddle, and his gaze was far softer.

The horses walked closer and closer, and the nearer the two men came, the more nervous the people around you grew. A few men skittered off and bolted down side streets, or plainly ran away.

For the life of you, you could not understand why — they looked no different from the men that went rogue against the laws of society to take up arms in the wilderness.

You were still rooted in place when they came so close you could scent the rich, cured leather of their boots and saddles, and you couldn’t help staring at the extravagant wealth that lined their person and padded their mounts. It was plain as day they were no strangers to wealth, but to be an outlaw with wealth? That was unheard of.

It was only when they were right next to you did your ability to breathe truly vanish.

“I don’t like this,” the blond grumbled, his eyes darting from person to person. “It’s too open—far too open, we’re exposed. You know what’ll happen if we’re cornered–”

“Enough.” Sharp, grey eyes met yours, and within the second of that glance, you felt your stomach flip upside down. The heart that hammered in your chest rocketed upwards into your throat.

The stranger seemed to have an inkling for your reaction, or he experienced something similar — his eyes narrowed as he considered you, a piercing look that took hold of your wriggling stomach and forced it to still. “We’ll get what we need and move on. Calm down.”

You blinked, and he was no longer looking at you. Instead, his blond companion gazed at you curiously, tilting his head.

“Move on,” the dark-haired man spat, and he nudged his horse into a trot. The slap from the leather reins against his horse’s neck was loud.

Rather than spur onwards, the blond stared at you for a moment longer. “Rogers, get a move on.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, still staring at you. Blue eyes moved over your face before he turned his head forwards, then he followed behind his partner.

When the both of them were out of earshot, you heard multitudes of townsfolk collectively exhale with what you guessed was relief. “We don’t need another shoot out thanks to those bastards,” one of them grumbled. “Not after the last one.”

“Shootout?” you questioned, feeling your heart slowly sink back down into your chest. “What– What happened?”

They regarded you carefully. “You don’t come down this way often, do you, miss?”

You shook your head. “No, I live over–”

“Count yourself lucky,” they interrupted, raising their brows. “Those two are monsters. Don’t have the bounty on their heads for nothin’, and you don’t get any bounty hunters in these parts that go after ‘em ‘cause all the ones that do, end up fed to the wolves.” The bag over their shoulder was shrugged further up, their grip tight. “Just stay well away from ‘em, miss—not the kinda folk you want to get involved with if you want t’a live in peace.”

“But–”

They turned away. Their hunched back swayed under the weight of the sack on their shoulder.

You frowned at the retreating stranger.

Sure, they looked the part of a deadly duo, not unlike the ones in your novellas or dreams, but they passed through the town peacefully, if ominously — that was the fault of the townsfolk acting as though death himself strolled down the muddied street.

“I don’t understand…” A loud snort of one of their horses drew your attention, and you watched as the strangers dismounted and hitched their mounts right out the front of the general store.

Everyone gave them a wide berth; heads down and feet fast over the mud to get out of their way.

What a lonely existence, you thought.

For the entirety of your life, you were regarded as a bright, intelligent woman that worked hard. The passing of your family had hit you hard, but you were determined to live up to their memory, to maintain the ranch they left behind and restore it to its full glory — only that took up far more time than you anticipated, and while it was still a raw wound, you trudged on.

Being all alone up on your small slice of good ol’ Western soil was something you took pride in, but you had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that it wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

The thought alone made you sympathise with the two outlaws — a life on the road, running from societal norms and expectations while maintaining the lifestyle they no doubt had become accustomed to, made even you feel a sense of weary exhaustion deep in your bones.

Isolation was not a weak man’s game.

“Get it together,” you hastily whispered, shaking your head under the guise of shooing a fly. Your bright, generous personality would not help them, nor would it help you, you reasoned — not this time.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed open the door to the doctor’s office to purchase some medicine and supplies for the coming weeks.

The entirety of the town was still strung up with tension when you exited the doctor’s office half an hour later, according to your pocket watch — a family heirloom. People still rushed to and fro with their gazes locked onto the two black horses settled by the hitching post at the general store.

It was a foolish decision, but you stopped to admire their fine confirmations and broad builds.

There were no doubts on how war-ready the two were, though their docile nature threw you — never before had you seen horses stand so blessedly still and patient, even back on your own ranch.

You couldn’t help but take a step closer, the urge to feel the silken soft coats that were muddied from their journey overwhelming your rational sense. There was no mistaking the fact that they were both stallions now you were beside them; finely bred and hardened for battle from their owners' tendencies for violence.

A dark, mahogany eye met yours, and if it were possible, their face softened while their ears perked forwards.

On the other side of the stallion you greeted, was the one with a white star. His eyes were far kinder and softer than the first’s.

The first stallion knickered lowly while you stepped even closer, the compulsion to be near overtaking you, and you held your hand out for the creature to sniff. The brush of his lips over your offered hand made you giggle. “Aren’t you two beautiful?”

They snorted in tandem.

Suddenly, the hair on your arms stood on end, and the feeling of being watched spooked you into stepping back hastily. You glanced around to search for the cause, afraid for what you would find, but there was no one paying attention to you; far too consumed in their own needs to finish their runs for supplies or complete their jobs.

“I have to go, beauties,” you said quietly to the two horses, who only blinked in reply.

Your feet carried you swiftly away, but you glanced over your shoulder to the two stallions one last time, in awe of their strength and beauty.

You weren’t to see the set of steel grey eyes watching you from the gunsmith’s window on the opposite side of the street, not while you hastened your pace to get back to your own mount and go home — where it was safe.

People bustled and shoved against you as they made their own way, and you kept your breath steady and even the best you could.

Shouts and calls of workmen and ranch hands followed you as you half walked, half jogged onwards, and halfway to your patient mare, you were pulled up short by the rotten stench of waste and liquor — a potent mix that would make anyone’s stomach turn.

It was sickeningly close, and the source was a stumbling, drunken fool in front of you.

“Oh, no,” you mumbled. The volume of your voice was next to impossible to make out among the background noise, and you were grateful — there was no telling what this drunkard would do if he heard you.

His back was turned towards you, and you carefully hastened to walk around him, to avoid his line of sight, but his head turned just as you took a step to the side.

The sudden appearance of a woman within his filthy grasp caught his attention, and the words that fell from his drooling mouth weren’t even intelligible. “Ain– Pretty girl–” A hiccup and loud belch cut his torrent short.

“I’m just– Oh,” you gasped as the man pulled a knife and an old, rusted revolver from the inside of his jacket. A cascade of fear shut your mind down and locked your joints, the immobility frightened you beyond what you could bear. “No, no, please–”

They were only small weapons, but they would do no less damage if he shot you point blank or forced the blade through skin and bone. “Sir, please–”

“Gim’ money!”

“I don’t have– Please, leave me be,” you pleaded, holding up a placating hand. The fear turned your tongue into a lead weight in your mouth and you couldn’t speak more than a few words to plead for your life, which only infuriated the man further.

He advanced, his steps stumbling and uncoordinated, and the gun he brandished glinted in the sun — a menacing shine of metal that you knew was your last. The stench of his breath made your stomach roil with sickness. “Good for nothin’ whor–”

Footsteps rustled and waded through the mud behind you, and the world around you froze.

The drunkard’s mouth hung slack, wide with the shock from the sudden, cold bite of metal from the end of an ornate muzzle pressing hard into his temple. A gloved finger was poised over the trigger.

Your attention snapped to the brave soul that came to your rescue, and your own mouth fell open in shocked awe — the same outlaw that sent the town into a terrified silence held his ebony revolver to the drunkard’s temple with little regard for the force behind it.

He looked inhuman with fury laced through the pale blue of his eyes. Malice and disgust radiated from him in waves.

“Now do you really want to finish insultin’ this poor woman?” a husked voice asked behind you. You whirled around, the skirts of your dress fluttering, and found the blond outlaw standing behind you, terrible in his rage. “Robbin’ an innocent girl to get your fuckin’ dick wet at the whore house?”

There was a pregnant pause, only broken by the piteous whimpering from the drunkard. “I– I–” A dark stain grew over the crotch of his worn, stained overalls.

His head jerked hard to the side as one of your saviours pushed the muzzle of the gun harder against the thin bones of his temple with a snarl. “He asked you a question.”

“What the fuck do you think you were doin’, you bastard?” The blond spat. “Answer me before you get a third eye.”

Before the drunkard could answer, you cut in fearfully, “I– I just want to go home.” The darker-haired outlaw’s eyes flashed angrily as he looked at you, and you stepped back on instinct, only to come back to chest with his partner. “Please, just– I am so sorry–”

“You aren’t the one tossin’ around a damned fuckin’ gun like it’s your cock, sweetheart,” the blond soothed.

A low growl of anger came from the dark-haired outlaw’s throat. “And pathetic men who disrespect a woman in front of me tend to lose theirs—by a fuckin’ bullet or a knife, your choice.”

The drunkard stumbled to the side with the shove from the gun.

“Buck,” the blond said, and you guessed that was the dark-haired outlaw’s name. “I don’t think this fella is goin’ to answer me.” A hand rested on your shoulder, and you jumped. “Whoa– Easy, sweetheart, we’re not the ones that are goin’ to hurt you.”

The warmth from his palm abated the worst of the fear, and you followed where he guided you to stand — in his shadow that casted itself over the ground. “As for him, well…”

“Apologise,” Buck spat, nearing the drunkard’s pale, sweaty face. “I don’t care if I have to lose a bullet to get you to do it, either.”

“S– Sorry, miss,” the drunkard whispered, his voice high with terror. “Sorry, I–” He was cut off by the shove to the shoulder, and you watched as he clumsily ran away.

Only, Buck raised his revolver and cocked the hammer back before a shot ran out with a cloud of smoke. The sound echoed like cannon fire off of the surrounding trees and sparse buildings — you could even hear faint shouts and screams of fear within the township.

“Good riddance,” the blond said with a nod.

“I wasn’t goin’ to let the bastard go,” Buck said lowly, voice still laced with a poisonous vitriol. He looked at you then and lowered his head respectfully. “Miss.”

“I–” You tried, but some force was making you tremble from head to toe — waves of flight or fight warring within your mind as you stood between the two deadliest men you had ever encountered. “Please don’t hurt me–”

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” the blond said quickly, holding his hands up and away from his holsters. “Name’s Steve, this here is Buck—or Bucky.”

You looked between them, eyes wide with your fear and still rooted to the spot with your pulsing terror. While you looked at Steve beseechingly, you saw from the corner or your eyes as Bucky shrugged off his thick, leather coat to reveal a white, long-sleeved shirt, and a black vest that had embroidery and filigree within the expensive material.

He was silent while he stood there, coat in his gloved hands.

“Where’s your horse?” Steve asked, looking around.

“Over– She’s over there,” you whispered, pointing towards where you hitched your mare. The bustle of noise had caught her attention, and you could see her kind face looking in your direction with her ears perked. “I didn’t think to–”

“Don’t worry, miss,” Steve assured, and he looked at Bucky with a brow raised. “You good?”

Bucky nodded, then offered his coat to you. “To keep you warm,” he rasped. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

You blinked and almost dropped your basket, but Bucky rushed forward and caught it. “Here,” he offered quietly, passing the basket to Steve and holding up his coat — the inner leather was warm and rich with his scent, and you couldn’t help but burrow into the comfort it provided.

The basket with all of your wares hung from Steve’s arm. “We’ll take you home, then be on our way—that alright, miss?”

Bucky was still working the large coat over your shoulders until he was satisfied it would sit comfortably. “I– I don’t know–” The journey home was a long one, and you wouldn’t say no to the safety their company would provide, but the problem of your trembling limbs made you doubt whether you would be able to stay in the saddle for long at all.

The two of them seemed to catch on to your concern.

Steve frowned and glanced at Bucky, who was wordlessly staring at your hands. “You can hop on behind Buck—your mare can follow behind, I’ve got her.”

Without another word, Steve started to walk towards their two mounts that were waiting a few feet away — you hadn’t even noticed them.

Bucky glanced up at your face while you stared into his, and he smiled slightly. The ice that had settled in your stomach inexplicably melted away with the softness of his gaze. You followed behind him as he led you to their stallions.

The shadow from a building beside them made their coats even darker, and the bigger of the two started to walk forwards at the sight of you approaching with one of their number. It was the same horse that affectionately brushed his lips over your hand out the front of the general store.

“Oh, hello,” you whispered, unable to help the smile that pulled at your lips. “You are beautiful, aren’t you?”

“Don’t give ‘im a bigger ego than his owner,” Steve chortled. The withering glare Bucky sent Steve almost made you laugh.

“This is Rebel,” Bucky said, patting the stallion’s lithe neck and making the skin ripple.

“Hello, Rebel,” you cooed, scratching his nose affectionately. Then, you realised you hadn’t given any of them your name, and when you glanced at Bucky after offering it, his head was tilted minutely to the side.

He did not give you a chance to question why before he mounted Rebel and sat in the saddle proudly. “You can ride?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s grip on your hand was tight and firm, and he yanked you up from the ground with apparent ease. “I, uh– My home is a ranch.”

There was a pleased hum from Steve, and Bucky looked over his shoulder at you while Rebel’s hooves shuffled to accommodate the sudden new addition on his back.

“Hold tight,” Bucky said gruffly. You rested your hands on either side of his waist, holding steady while Rebel’s movements were smooth beneath you — the reins were loose, and Bucky’s thighs clamped around the barrel of his mount’s flanks.

“He is so beautiful,” you murmured again, just as Rebel made to turn around and walk towards your mare. On impulse, you moved one hand from Bucky’s waist to the dark coat behind your thighs.

The inky pelt felt not unlike a luxurious silk.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, then he clicked his tongue. Rebel took the cue and picked up the pace. “He’s been through hell an’ back with me. There ain’t many horses as strong as he is. I’m a lucky bastard.”

You moved your hands from Rebel’s coat back to Bucky’s waist to hold on. Even over the vest you felt the heat radiating from his body, and you couldn’t help but shift closer.

All the while a part of your mind screamed for you to drop and run — a long, dormant instinct that arose with such strength you’d never felt before.

The two men were no doubt two of the fiercest you could have ever encountered, that was not for debate or contest — you could feel the strength of Bucky’s control on his horse in the way the mount moved with such trained ease. Not to mention the muscles that rippled under the long-sleeved shirt of his made you realise there was far more than met the eye.

What held your tongue from screaming or crying for help was the way the two of them did not even bat an eye before shooting a vagrant drunk that accosted you, even though they had no idea who you were — just a woman going about her day.

Not to them, you thought.

You noticed the townsfolk that stopped and stared at the three of you while you passed them by, both shock and fear painting their pale, grime-streaked faces, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking. A poor, foolish girl riding with the most dangerous men.

“There she is,” Steve said suddenly, pulling you from your reverie. You blinked from the light of the sun, and found Steve pointing towards your mare, a beautiful, golden palomino who’s coat gleamed in the morning rays. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling softly at the softened gaze of your mare once she spotted you. “That’s my girl.”

“She’s a fine horse,” Bucky said as he pulled Rebel to a stop. “Stevie, you’ve got ‘er?”

Steve nodded and dismounted to unhitch her from her post. “You take the lead; I’ll follow behind with this pretty lady.” You watched as your mare was tied to the horn of Steve’s saddle, and she came into stride next to him with as little as a heavy sigh to acknowledge her predicament. “A dramatic one–”

“You haven’t seen the worst of it,” you laughed as you scratched at her ears. “Not in the slightest.”

During the journey back to your ranch, you couldn’t help but notice how silent Bucky was — all conversation and pleasantries were held between Steve and yourself, with minimal input from the brooding rider in front of you. During one of the longer stretches of silence, albeit a strangely comfortable one, you took a moment to consider with a keen eye how Bucky held himself.

The man was truly a marvel, that you assumed correctly. His broad, wide shoulders were straight, only slumping when he seemed to grow weary — most notably through Steve’s many tirades.

The black vest he wore hugged his chest and waist, accentuating the lines of his muscled torso in all of the right places, and it made you think countlessly of the heroes in your stories that lined the old, wooden bookshelf in your bedroom.

His shirt wrinkled and smoothed with each movement of his arms, the tight muscle beneath making your mouth water.

“How far do you live from town?” Bucky asked suddenly, and to your horror, he glanced over his shoulder before you could school your expression, or at least look away from the expanse of his back. Something flashed in his grey eyes, and you were embarrassed to see a small smirk forming on his full lips.

The coat over your shoulders was a welcome reprieve and you found yourself burrowing yourself deeper into the warmth it offered your still trembling limbs, and you hastened to answer before Steve could interject — the blond looked about ready to cause more trouble. “Not far, just a little while longer. You’ll come upon my fields soon.”

He nodded and urged Rebel a little faster, the movement of the horse’s hindquarters jostled you into being pressed right up against Bucky’s back. In the slight moment of shock, you clamped your arms around his waist tighter. The fabric wrinkled under your sudden, iron-clad grip, and under your hands, you could feel the low rumble of his chest while he laughed.

You rested your forehead against the smooth fabric of his vest to hide your shame.

Wooden fence posts suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision, and you glanced up to find the outer fence line of your ranch perimeter in all its glory.

The farmhouse at the end of the dusty, dirt lane was a modest building from the exterior, but you were relieved to see it nonetheless — wooden slats were bleached from the harsh light of the sun, and the characteristic weathervane of a loping horse still sat perched on the roof from when you were a child.

“We’re here,” you said happily, unable to stop the smile of relief. “That’s my home.”

Bucky said nothing while Steve moved his mount closer. “It’s beautiful. You live out here by yourself?”

“I do,” you replied wearily, side-eyeing Steve. “Why?”

Steve looked at you quickly. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, I swear.”

“Shut your trap, you fuckin’ bastard,” Bucky snapped, glaring at Steve. You blinked and stared between them. “Leave ‘er alone. If she is happy on ‘er own, she’s happy. She’s already proven to be a strong woman who doesn’t need the likes a’you to judge ‘er.”

“Settle, settle,” Steve laughed, “I meant nothin’, I swear, Buck.”

Bucky shifted in the saddle, and you felt him press back against you. The simple act to get closer made an indescribable heat climb up the skin of your neck. “Good, now shut it.”

You caught Steve’s gaze, and he winked while Bucky’s gaze was elsewhere.

The swirling confusion in your mind overtook any sense to question what just happened between them — they truly were an odd duo, but you didn’t linger on that thought too long before Bucky pulled Rebel to a halt on the earthen path that led to your front door.

The gate creaked and groaned in the slight breeze, and a few of the horses looked up from their lazy grazing to investigate the newcomers.

“Well, here y’are,” Steve said, handing you the reins for your mare. The two men were looking around your property with interest as you took hold of the rope, and a thought crossed your mind — it was reckless, dangerous, and possibly the most foolish idea, but something nagged within your heart to voice it.

“Why don’t– Uh, well–” The rope was tight around your knuckles while you fidgeted with it, and your mare nuzzled your elbow. “Why don’t you come on in? I can fix you up a hot meal and you both can, well—you can rest. I can at least thank you for your efforts.”

There was a beat of silence, then Steve said, “You sure, darlin’? We can head on off; we’re only passin’ through.”

Bucky’s expression remained impassive, but there was something in his gaze that told you that you were doing the right thing — however much your good sense screamed that it was a mistake. “I’m sure—come on in and I’ll get the pot going.”

You didn’t wait for them to answer before you set off to walk towards your home, all the while praying that you hadn’t just bitten the bullet.

“Well, that’s real kind,” Steve called, then you heard soft hoofbeats thudding over the earth behind you.

The horses scattered throughout the fields watched you walk by with the strangers in tow, ears perked forward and eyes bright with interest. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Rebel start to gain on you, and then you felt his muzzle brush your shoulder. “Hi there, pretty boy,” you cooed, kissing the side of his nose.

A deep chuckle sounded from his back, and you looked up towards Bucky, who was looking down at you with a soft smile — one that you found you’d do anything to see again.

“You can hitch the boys just here,” you said as you pointed to a wooden rail set just next to the porch railing. The worn oak was sturdy, and you knew it would hold the two stallions should they grow restless.

Steve dismounted with a loud groan, and he stretched to the sky when his boots landed on the dirt.

Bucky, however, moved his left leg up and over Rebel’s neck, and he slid from the saddle with as little effort — a difficult dismount performed with ease, and the bastard knew it, too. An arrogant smirk pulled at the corner of his lips for a moment before Steve rounded the back of his horse, when it vanished.

The sudden change in his demeanour made your brows furrow with confusion, but Bucky shot you a look that forced your expression to be neutral — whatever made him conscious of his outward expression of happiness was his business, you reminded yourself.

But you couldn’t deny the pull to see him smile again, not after your interest in the brooding man had grown tenfold over the journey home.

you're not gonna stop me, are you?

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #alternate juneiverse 2024 #babb2023 #rookthorne's works

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loveharlow · 2 years

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hi :)

i love your writing! could i request an ajax x reader fic where the reader gets hurt and ajax gets all protective over them and angry with the person who hurt them, sort of angsty

thank you!!

ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

PAIRING ‧₊˚ Ajax Petropolus x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS ‧₊˚ [1.7k] Ajax is bit protective of his girlfriend and wants to keep her safe. So when a recently erratic redhead catches her in the Nightshades archives, he isn't too pleased.

WARNING(S) ‧₊˚ swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild violence, Rowan loosing his shit, angry!ajax, mild angst

A/N ‧₊˚ I'm not tryna villainize Rowan , I just needed a conflict. RIP ma boy. PS - To all my gif makers, we need more Ajax gifs please, I will pay you 😭 (not literally I'm broke)

Hope this is good enough for you, anon!

˗ˏˋ ajax masterlist ˎˊ˗

I WAS IN THE NIGHTSHADES LIBRARY, SLUMPED AGAINST ONE OF THE SUPPORT BEAMS AS I READ THE BOOK I’D BEEN STUCK ON FOR THE PAST WEEK. A bowl of grapes on one side of me, occasionally dipping my hand in to grab a few and plop them in my mouth, eyes scanning word after word, paying no mind to my surroundings.

That was, until I heard the familiar screeching of the statue opening to the library. My face screwed in mild confusion, not expecting anyone to be coming. Especially at this hour — it was half past 11 and I should have very well been in my dorm, sleeping. But what Weems and the other staff didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, right?

The footsteps that descended the curved staircases were heavy and frantic, tattered sneakers coming into view as they practically flew down the steps. Fully lifting my head from the worn pages of the novel I was reading, I waited to see who had entered the library — seeing as only a handful of people knew it existed.

However, the face that followed was unexpected. A head of red hair and glasses — what was Rowan doing here? He got kicked out weeks ago.

He didn’t seem to notice me as he eagerly scanned the bookshelves for…whatever it was he was looking for.

He looked stressed…erratic. Almost like a wild animal, if I’m being honest. He’d been acting strange ever since the new girl showed up but he looked worse than he did when we told him we couldn’t keep him around a couple weeks back. He had deep, red bags under his eyes and his hair looked like he either hadn’t touched it in days or couldn’t stop touching it.

I let the grape clenched between my fingers fall into the bowl and let the book fall shut, the sudden noise causing the boy to whip around until he set his eyes on me. His shaky gaze went wide before hardening into a glare that I chose to ignore.

Setting the book on the ground, I stood slowly, dusting off my pants as I did so. “Rowan, shouldn’t be in here. You’re not a Nightshade, anymore.” I stated, keeping my distance.

“Y/n…” He muttered my name as if he was scared, putting his hands palm-side down in front of him as he inched closer. “I just need one thing. You don’t have to tell anyone I was here. I’ll be in and out, ’kay? I-I swear.”

I shook my head with regret, hugging myself close with the sleeves of my sweater pulled over my hands. “Rowan, I can’t- It’s not up to me. And even if it was, I'd tell you the same thing. You’ve been off lately…” I spoke meekly, not wanting to set him off as it has been easy to do that lately. Too easy. Dangerously easy.

His eyes squinted, his motions to come closer halting in a heartbeat. A deep scowl formed on his face. “Off? I’ve been off?” He laughed bitterly, looking up at the library ceiling. “That’s really funny coming from one of the elitist assholes who kicked me out of their little secret society the second I didn’t fit your standards anymore.” He snapped, throwing his hand out at me.

My head fell to the side as he spoke, lips parting to speak. “We kicked you out, Rowan, because you were losing your shit and we got sick of your tantrums. It seems not much has changed.” I reprimanded sternly. He started to take slow, calculated steps towards me. So, I started to walk around him, my back going from facing the support beams to me standing in front of the bookshelf, Rowan never taking his eyes off of me. We circled one another, almost taking the others place, with him now standing close to my abandoned book and bowl of grapes. “You’re dangerous. To yourself and us. And we don’t want to get caught up with whatever theory you’re chasing.”

“It's not a theory! It’s-” He took a deep breath, pinching the skin between his brows. “Damn it! Why are all of you so oblivious?! You can’t see the real danger that’s right in front of you-”

He was becoming volatile and unpredictable, in his words and movements. Grasping at his hair as his face became a deep, angry shade of red. “Rowan, you should leave.”

“NO! No, I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for-” He spoke quickly, his words jumbling together. He started towards me, in long strides and I almost didn’t see him coming. I wasn’t thinking clearly and he was starting to scare me.

“Rowan!” I shouted, the sound echoing of the walls and halting his movements. “Just go! I don’t want to hurt you but you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I need the book…” He muttered, eyes glancing over the tiles on the floor frantically.

“What-”

“Just give me the damn book!” He shouted, finally snapping.

His right hand shot out and I could feel my body leave the floor as I flew back, my head hitting the wood of the bookshelves, disorienting me for a few moments. My head was spinning and the room was split into two as I tried to regain my consciousness.

All of a sudden, what sounded like two pairs of footsteps were trampling down the steps, two blurry figures coming into view and shouting at Rowan. Inaudible statements I couldn’t make out.

When my senses balanced back out, I could finally see the two people who’d entered the hidden library — Ajax and Bianca, shouting worriedly at Rowan.

“What the hell?! Stop!”

“Rowan, let her go!”

Rowan was simply shaking his head and squinting his eyes so tight, it had to have hurt. It looked like he was trying to block out his own thoughts and failing miserably.

“Mmm.. shut up!” The angry boy shouted, causing his psychic hold on me to somehow put more pressure on my chest, constricting my airflow as I gasped for air — my chest was caving in. And if he didn't let me down, I knew I might die.

“You’re gonna kill her! Put her down!” Bianca pleaded. None of us were thinking straight. I looked ahead at my best friend and boyfriend, my eyes watering in struggle as my fists clenched at nothing.

They spared a glance at one another before Ajax was reaching up at his beanie, going to tug it off before Bianca stopped him — shaking her head ‘no’ before she was marching up to Rowan and throwing his shoulder back.

Using her siren voice to force him into capitulation. “Put her down.”

Rowan's hands fell to his side limply, my lungs filling with air as my body slid rapidly down the wood of bookshelves and Ajax sped across the room as fast as he could to catch my frame before it collided with the hard floor.

His arms went under me, holding me bridal style before sitting down and lifting my head onto his lap, rubbing my cheek with one hand as I gripped the sleeve of his hoodie with mine.

“Breathe, it’s okay. You’re okay, it's alright. I got you...” he coaxed as I caught my breath.

Once I was breathing, shakily but breathing nonetheless, his head snapped to Rowan who was arguing to Bianca. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled. “You could have killed her!”

“Ajax, it’s fine.” His gaze whipped back down to me, his glare harsh and angry — frightened.

“Fine?” He said incredulously. “That wasn’t fine! He isn’t even supposed to be here. This is why we kicked him to the curb in the first place.” He ranted, turning back to Rowan who looked regretful about his actions but not necessarily sorry. “Because we knew some shit like this was bound to happen!”

“I didn’t mean to...She was-”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Ajax said lowly, his eyes hard and dark.

“You need to leave.” Bianca said sternly, arms crossed and eyes dead-set on him. Rowan stood in his place, stuttering like a fish out of water before she spoke again, much more conviction in her tone. “Now.”

Then the boy was dipping his head down and rushing up the stairs and out of the library. “Next time I see you, I’ll kick your ass!” Ajax shouted after him. He wasn’t the type to make threats but stoners had a type of strength like no other, so it wasn't one to be taken lightly.

Bianca rushed over to me who was now sitting up slow out of Ajax’s lap.

“Are you alright?” She asked worriedly. I nodded, coughing lightly once or twice. Ajax had a hand set on my back as I allowed my head to fall onto his chest, his free hand coming up to cradle my head.

“Thank you.” I muttered, voice still shaky. “But, why were you guys down here?”

Bianca smiled pitifully and rubbed her hand up and down my forearm. “I woke up and you weren't in the dorm, I got worried. I asked Ajax if you were with him and he said no, said he had an idea where you might be.”

“I told you to stop coming down here alone.” Ajax reminded firmly, looking down at me from where I was perched against his chest. I muttered an ‘I know’ and a ‘sorry’ before letting my arms go around his waist and hug him closer. Bianca let her hand fall from my arm, sending us both a look before bidding goodnight and leaving the library.

Ajax and I sat like that for a while before he moved to stand, my arms falling from him as he rose. Dusting off his pajama pants, he outstretched a hand to help me stand. I wrapped both of my arms around one of his as we left the library together — my bowl of grapes and book abandoned and long forgotten.

When we got outside, I clung to him tighter as a chill swept by, my lungs thanking the breeze. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

He didn’t stop walking as he leaned to kiss the top of my forehead. “‘Course you can.” He replied as we continued to walk together.

We made it to his room without being caught, going inside and getting comfortable under his covers. It wasn’t long before we clung to each so close, you couldn’t tell where he started and I ended.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. But I promise I won’t let it happen again.” He assured me sleepily.

“I know., but it wasn't your fault.” I mumbled, burying my face in his chest. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” He muttered, lifting my chin to peck my lips before allowing me to bury my face into his chest once more. His arms tugged me closer. I knew he was still fuming from what happened and I'd have to try and talk him down from potentially killing Rowan, or recruit Xavier to do it for me. In a weird way, I found it endearing to know he cared so much. But I don't like to see him upset.

And even though my chest still felt heavy and achy, and I’d have to sneak back to the girl’s dorm at the crack of dawn praying not to be spotted by Weems or the teachers — I knew it’d be okay.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

#ajax petropolus wednesday addams #ajax petropolus wednesday #ajax petropolus #ajax petropolus x normie!reader #ajax petropolus x fem!reader #ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolis x reader #ajax petropolus x you #ajax petropolus x y/n #wednesday characters x reader #wednesday netflix #req. ♥︎

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

TAKE CARE OF YOU [5]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 5,464

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: i love this man, and i love every single person who has taken the time to let me know that they also love this man😌]

05: TO OUR EXES

"eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. but lovely. oh, so lovely."

It was nerve wracking getting ready for your date which was mildly ironic since it technically wasn’t even a date. Joel was in essence paying you to be there. That thought process didn’t help much though because it instilled the fear of ‘what if he didn’t like what he was paying for’⏤ which was a terrifying thought that could send you into a spiral if you thought about it too long.

For the millionth time, you adjusted your outfit before checking your hair once more in the mirror. Joel had texted you that he was on the way to your apartment. You had actually assumed that Riley would be driving you to meet Joel at the restaurant or perhaps to Joel’s home or work. The idea of Joel coming to pick you up himself was so adorably sincere in your mind.

The sound of knuckles rapping against your front door gave you pause. You glanced down at your phone to see that you didn’t have any missed messages from Joel. “Coming!” You called out while shoving your phone and wallet into the small purse that matched your dress. Heels clicking across your floor, you hurried to answer the door. “Hey⏤”

Your greeting fell silent halfway through it as you opened the door to see Joel looking as handsome as ever. It really wasn’t fair⏤ it looked effortless on his part. A gray sport coat with a navy blue button up shirt under the coat sans tie. Joel’s hair had a slightly messy look to it that seemed to be more accidental than planned. As if a long day of stress had undone a perfectly acceptable work style. His lips curled into a smile.

“Hey, sugar.” Joel greeted and it was nice to hear his voice in person again rather than through a telephone. He shifted to pull his hand out from behind his back to present you with a new bouquet of flowers just as gorgeous as the first.

Your eyes widened as you took the variety of wild flowers from him “Joel… These are gorgeous.”

“No, darlin’, you’re gorgeous.” Joel replied without hesitation. You looked up from the flowers to see Joel’s eyes tracing every inch of you. The clear admiration in his emotive brown eyes making your breath catch in your throat. He shook his head once, “Goddamn…”

You could feel your cheeks and the back of your neck warm at the compliment. Clutching the flowers to your chest, you cleared your throat. “It’s the dress. Thank you so much, Joel. I really love it.”

“The dress ain’t nothin’ without you, sugar. Don’t be silly.” Joel let out a small scoff.

“Here.” You motioned for him to come in. “Let me put these in water and we can be off.” While walking to the kitchen to find something that could be used as a vase, you heard Joel close the front door and step in. Your eyes glanced over your living space in mild embarrassment. Joel seemed to be looking around as well and you saw his eyes drift to a few photos you had hanging on your walls. “You really didn’t need to buy me more flowers, you know. I’m still in love with the ones from this morning. The sunflowers are so pretty.”

Joel drifted over, seeming entirely out of place in your tiny home, “Need? It’s about ‘want’, and I want to buy you everythin’.”

“Everything?” You chuckled.

Joel titled his head just a bit, amusement flashing in his eyes, “Did I stutter, sugar?” You housed the flowers into a glass vase so you could set it next to the sunflowers and roses from this morning. Joel cleared his throat. “Are the flowers too much?” It was the first time since the start of this that you heard hesitance and doubt creep into his voice again. Joel rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it’s kind of cheesy⏤”

“First off, how dare you use the word ‘cheesy’ in a negative context.” You replied and Joel’s smile returned. “Second, I love the flowers. I really do. I… Nobody’s ever bought me bouquets like this before”

“That’s a damned shame.” Joel’s doubt seemed to slip away. “Never?”

“Well, I suppose not never. I’ve gotten apology flowers maybe but never ‘good morning’ flowers and ‘date night’ flowers.” As the words left your mouth, your eyes widened. Early today, you had decided not to refer to this as a date in front of Joel because you were unsure of what to correctly call it. Despite this plan, you managed to screw it up before even leaving your apartment. “Not that⏤ I mean, tonight isn’t⏤ or it⏤ Uh, I…”

Joel chuckled then held his arm out at the elbow for you. “Ready for our dinner date?”

You felt your face warm once more this time partially in relief from Joel’s subtle reassurance. “Very.” You nodded and looped your arm through his. “Let’s go.”

The two of you left the apartment, only pausing to lock your door, and Joel kept his arm through yours to help you cautiously down the stairs and out to the front of the building. The car on the curb you didn’t recognize was a dark maroon truck and it was the one Joel led you to. He opened the passenger door and held your hand to help you climb in.

“Watch your feet.” Joel said before shutting the door. As he came around, you chuckled and clipped your seat belt. Joel must have noticed your amusement and he grinned. “What is it?”

“I like your truck. It’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” You teased. “I’m pretty sure guys with the kind of bank account you have are supposed to drive lamborghinis and mercedes.”

Joel laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “Those ain’t really my style, sugar.” It wasn’t necessarily true. You could picture Joel behind the wheel of a fancy car and God would he look good there, but the truck felt like him. It had the same 'down to earth' energy that Joel carried when he walked around in his flannels. “Growin’ up, I always wanted a truck like this.” He glanced over at you before his eyes shot back to the road. “It was the first thing I bought for myself after the company took off.”

You ran your hand against the worn leather of the middle console. The truck was well cared for, but obviously a bit aged. That was even cuter to you. Not only was he driving around in a vehicle you wouldn’t give a second glance on the road, but he wasn’t even driving the newest model despite being able to afford it plus more.

“So, tell me about your day.” You said. “Anything exciting happen?”

Joel let out a quiet scoff before casually walking you through some of the disasters he was forced to deal with. You knew very little, arguably nothing, about contracting or his job in particular. That being said, Joel had a nice way of telling stories. It wasn’t just his voice alone, which you had already established was addicting to listen to, but Joel was able to keep a person engaged and wanting more when he spun a tale. He wasn’t overly vocal from what you’ve gathered, but when he did speak the words he chose mattered.

“What about you?” Joel asked without glancing over. The truck was officially way out of your neighborhood and in a much richer area of the region. “That boutique okay?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You replied and began to tell him all about Kiera. “Honestly, I was nervous to shop at a place like that, but she was incredible.” Joel hummed happily and you began to tell him how you also got lunch with Riley. “I basically had to arm wrestle him into letting me use your card to buy lunch for us because he didn't want to ‘impose’.”

Joel barked out a laugh. “It’s kind of frustratin’ when you wanna buy somethin’ for a person who fights you tooth and nail on it, huh?”

You bit down on your lower lip to keep from excessively grinning. “Shut up. That’s not the same.”

“Oh, it ain’t?”

“I wanted to buy Riley a sandwich, you wanted to buy me a car.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see a difference.” You playfully rolled your eyes and he had been glancing over just at the right time to see it. Joel’s hand reached over to lightly grasp your hand which was resting on the middle console. His warm touch made your breath hitch and you could feel calluses on his palm. Joel gave your hand a tight squeeze. He scolded you teasingly, “Good girls don’t roll their eyes, sugar.”

“I⏤ I, uh, I did warn you that you were gonna turn me into a spoiled brat.” Your voice had cracked at the beginning of the sentence and you were forced to clear your throat to stabilize it.

Joel glanced over again, and he gave your hand a softer squeeze this time. Sincerity replaced his teasing, “This alright? If you don’t want me⏤”

“No.” You tangled your fingers with him in fear that he was going to pull away. “This is fine.”

Joel chuckled and for the rest of the drive to the restaurant you found it hard to focus on anything other than the small circles that Joel’s thumb was tracing against the skin on the back of your hand. You weren’t familiar with the area outside the car window but you found yourself surrounded by skyscrapers. The building Joel pulled up to was well lit and the people traveling in and out of the lobby looked just as well dressed as the both of you.

He parked the truck in the valet lane then squeezed your hand to draw your attention to him. “Stay right there, sugar.” You gave him a nod and watched as he climbed out and walked around the truck’s front. He tossed the keys to the valet with a quick thanks. The valet must have said something you didn’t catch because Joel chuckled and nodded. You shifted in your seat, realizing why he asked you to stay put, and waited for Joel to reach your door. Joel pulled it open, held a hand out, and offered a charming smile. “Ma’am.”

“Sir.” You replied with a grin and took his hand so he could help you climb out of his truck. Joel took your hand and looped it around his elbow. You felt your cheeks warm at the motion. Though you had known he was taking you out in public, a part of you thought he wouldn’t want to be seen with you though. It’s not like you were his dirty secret, the two of you weren’t part of some scandal or affair, but it still felt like something you were supposed to hide. You shoved the doubt out of your mind and let your eyes glance around the lavish lobby. “This place is gorgeous. Where are we?”

“This is the J Hotel.” Joel replied. You briefly stiffened. A hotel? Obviously, this was a hotel. You should’ve noticed from the curb. Was he going to take you to a room? A trickle of concern crawled down your spine. Joel seemed to notice because he set his free hand on top of the one you had holding onto his arm. “Hey. It’s alright. There’s a restaurant on the rooftop. That’s where we’re heading, darlin’.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding and shot him an apologetic smile. “Of course. Of course, we are. I’m so sorry.” He had been nothing but a gentleman, above and beyond really, and your mind had immediately assumed the worst of him. “I wasn’t⏤ I don’t think you’re that kind of guy I just⏤”

“No need for apologies.” Joel chuckled. “I’d be more worried if you weren’t wary of me. I’m a strange old guy payin’ you to hang out around me.”

You tightened your grip on his arm as the two of you stepped into the elevator. “Not strange. I’d use the words ‘kind’ or ‘charming’ or ‘handsome’ even.”

Joel let out a soft laugh as he hit the button for the sixty-seventh floor. The ride up only took a moment and when the floor opened up you commended Joel for his choice in location. The rooftop restaurant was gorgeous. String lights hung overhead and the seating area was filled with an almost garden-like energy. The maitre d’ spotted the two of you and hurried over to offer a greeting. It was very different compared to the side eye the maitre d’ from the restaurant where you and Nima had met Roaslind. You were led over to a table and you were excited to see it was near enough to the side of the roof that you’d have a clear view of the LA skyline without having to peer around another table.

Joel slid his arm out from yours to pull out your chair. The flowers, opening your car door, pulling out your chair⏤ it was all very little things, but you found yourself enjoying it immensely. Joel sat down across from you and you gave your waiter a double take when you realized he had only offered one menu for the table and he had placed it in Joel’s hands.

“Um…” You began.

“Don’t worry.” Joel replied. “We only need one. This place makes four new dishes a day. I can read you those four options.”

You crossed your arms to lean on the table, amused, “And why can’t I read my own menu?”

“Because,” Joel scanned the menu once more before meeting your gaze, “I know you’ll end up pickin’ your meal based on the price tag rather than get what you actually want.”

Your eyes widened in slight surprise. He wasn’t wrong, but it caught you off guard that he had thought of it. Joel quickly walked you through the options and you picked a meal that sounded most appealing to you. When the waiter came back, he took the order and offered a few wine choices. Joel nodded to you to decide and you agreed to whatever the waiter thought would work best with your meals.

“You know,” You laced your fingers together with a small smile, “I’m surprised.”

“By?”

“Most rich people can’t fathom the lifestyle of someone in my tax bracket.” You replied with a small shrug. “Because you were right. I would’ve probably picked based on the price, without even realizing it.”

Joel chuckled, “I wasn’t always rich, sugar.” You knew he hadn’t always been a multi-millionaire, but you assumed he jumped from upper class to that level. “Back in college, and a little while after, I was broke.” He offered you a small understanding nod. “I’ve had those days where you go out for dinner with friends and you pick the cheapest thing on the menu ‘cause you can’t afford nothin’ else.” Your gaze softened at his words, and he chuckled. “Then you’re too proud to accept help from any of your friends so you spend the entire night tryin’ to convince them that corn nuggets were your actual favorite food and that’s why you ordered ‘em.”

You laughed at how relatable his words were. Not too long ago, right before Joel offered you this proposition, you had literally sat in a restaurant with Nima and refused to let her buy you food⏤ claiming you ordered the side salad because you weren’t very hungry rather than admitting you were forced to use your full paycheck for rent and bills which left you nothing for spending.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It was a fair assumption.” Joel conceded. “Most people who make it to my current tax bracket,” He copied your phrasing, “Started pretty near the top to begin with.”

The waiter returned to pour you both a glass of wine and you and Joel both thanked him. You took a sip and savored the flavor. This was absolutely not the boxed wine you had sitting in your fridge currently. A soft groan of approval slipped your lips.

“Good?” Joel asked.

“Much better than the wine I just bought from Target.” You nodded. Joel laughed and you motioned around the restaurant. “This place is amazing by the way. Do you come here often?”

Joel shook his head. “No. This is my first time.”

“Oh. Why’d you pick it then?” You asked curiously.

“Well,” Joel cleared his throat then offered you a sheepish smile, “I didn’t. I asked my assistant to plan this out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just been a while since I did anythin’ date related… If it had been up to me I would’ve taken you to a diner a few blocks down from my office. Best burger in LA, I swear it.”

You resisted the urge to tell him that you would’ve been happy with any place he chose as long as it gave you time to spend with him. That seemed to potentially cross a line from ‘fake date with a sugar daddy’ and into ‘real date with a man you’re crushing on’. A distinction you were making a real effort to focus on. However, you were unable to resist asking the question that had plagued you all day.

“How is it you haven’t done anything date related in a while?” You asked. “How are you even single?”

“You know…” Joel grunted out a vague response and shrugged.

You chuckled, “No, actually I don’t. I find it very hard to believe that a guy like you couldn’t have any woman he wanted, yet here you are. With me.”

“With you is exactly where I wanna be.” Joel replied confidently. You rolled your eyes with a small chuckle. He held his wine glass in his hand, but lifted a finger from it to point at you. “There you go rollin’ those pretty eyes again. You’re askin’ for trouble.”

“No. You know what I’m asking.” You countered.

Joel let out a small sigh and nodded. “I was with a woman a year ago. It didn’t end well.” You took a sip of your own wine but continued to lean on the table listening intently. “It was just a messy relationship. We weren’t… compatible, but we stayed together longer than we should’ve. She didn’t like that I was too cold, and I didn’t like that she was sleepin’ with other guys.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence alone. “God, I’m so sorry, Joel.” It was baffling that anybody wouldn’t appreciate what they had with Joel. And cold? You’ve known not even a full month, but if someone asked you to describe Joel the last word you’d use was ‘cold’. “She thought you were cold?”

“She said I wasn’t affectionate enough.” Joel replied in an off handed manner. The way someone would respond to a question they didn’t want to elaborate on. Still, you had a hard time believing Joel was not affectionate with his significant other. Hell he had been more affectionate toward you this last week than your ex-boyfriend had been the last few months of your relationship. You wondered if his old girlfriend hadn’t understood his affection. You were getting the feeling that Joel’s love language was ‘Acts of Service’. To someone who didn’t respond to that then they could potentially make that complaint. “It was a long time ago.”

You twisted your lips, “You haven’t met anyone since then that you were interested in?”

Joel held your gaze for a beat before he glanced at his wine glass and took a sip. He shook his head and met your gaze once more with a small smile. “It just wasn’t a priority.” He chuckled. “Then I got lovingly bullied into the sugar baby idea.” There was obviously a story there that you were curious about, but Joel changed the subject so you were the topic of conversation. “Don’t feel obligated to answer ‘cause I talked about my love life, or lack thereof, but… what about you?”

“Me?” You motioned to yourself.

“Yeah.” Joel grinned. “You’re a catch, sugar. Smart, witty, fun, drop dead gorgeous,” You felt your cheeks warm at his words and you hid your smile behind your wine glass as you took a sip, “How’re you single?”

This wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about, but if Joel could share a bit of his painful past then you could as well. You licked your lips, “I wasn’t single six months ago.” Joel’s eyebrows rose. “I was dating a guy and we were pretty serious.”

“How long did the two of you date?”

“Two years.” You admitted with a slight wince, and Joel looked even more surprised. “The topic of marriage actually came up, but…” You cleared your throat. “He told me I wasn’t marriage material.”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m sorry, what?” You shrugged in response, not knowing what else to say. He scoffed with a shake of his head. “No offense, darlin’, but your ex is an absolute moron who didn’t know what he had.”

“It’s funny you say that.” You teased. “I was just thinking that about your ex.”

Joel’s lips curled up into an amused smirk. He lifted his wine glass toward you, “To our exes then. Without their mistakes we wouldn’t be here tonight.”

“To our exes.” You laughed and clinked your glass against his.

The rest of dinner consisted of conversation topics that weren’t quite as heavy as the history of your love lives. Just like with your phone calls with Joel, talking to him was the easiest thing in the world. Any moment of silence that did occur between the two of you was comfortable rather than awkward, and you never felt pressured to fill the space with words just for the sake of it.

When the waiter came to the table with the check there was no question of who it was going to. He handed it over to Joel who thanked him then pulled out his card to hand back. You finished the last of your current glass of wine.

“Seriously though,” You spoke up, “Thank you so much. This meal was amazing.”

“My pleasure, sugar.” Joel chuckled. “Glad you enjoyed it.” The waiter returned with his card and you watched Joel write on the receipt before rising up. He held a hand out to you to help you out of your seat and you beamed as he pulled your arm through his arm once more. “Night ain’t over yet though.”

Your smile widened as you let him lead you out of the restaurant. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Joel replied as you both settled in the elevator. You hit the button for the lobby before he could. He reached into his coat’s internal pocket to pull out two tickets. “Some show in the LA County Museum of Art.”

He offered you the tickets for you to see what it was for. You recognized the name of the show because Nima had just been talking to you about this only a few days prior. Joel paused with you by the side of the road as the two of you waited for the valet to bring his truck around.

“Do you know much about this show?” You asked in curiosity. If the few things you did know about him were correct you had a feeling that the same person who picked out this restaurant also chose this show.

“No. It’s some kind of art show, ain’t it?”

“Yes.” You chuckled. “But it’s a sensory experience.” Joel shot you a confused look and you grinned in response. “So… the area is dark and the only light is on the floor to light a path and the art pieces itself, and you’re not allowed to talk. It’s a silent showing.”

You saw immediate distaste on Joel’s face as he took the tickets from you to scan them. Another laugh bubbled from your lips when you heard Joel mutter a curse under his breath. He blew out a sigh as his truck rolled around. “We don’t gotta do this, sugar, but I don’t really have anything else planned…”

The idea of calling this the end of your night already sat bitter on your tongue. Joel caught the keys thrown to him before opening the passenger seat door to help you climb in. As he walked around the truck, you pulled out your phone to search an address for a possible idea.

“I have an idea.” You blurted when Joel climbed in. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Drive here.”

He glanced at the GPS on your phone, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m not that big on surprises.” Joel countered skeptically.

“And I’m not good at letting people buy me things.” You smirked. “We’re both experiencing new things today.” Joel bit back a chuckle, but he still gave you a wary look. You leaned across the console with the brightest smile you could muster. “Please, daddy.”

Joel’s lips curled up into a smile and he shook his head with a laugh under his breath. He turned and put the car into drive to start following the GPS. You beamed at him and it felt empowering to know you were able to so easily sway him into agreeing to a surprise. Joel reached out again to lace his hand with yours. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute, sugar.”

“Here. If it makes you more comfortable,” You said, “When we get there I’ll let you pay for us to go in.”

“Oh, you’ll let me pay.” Joel laughed and squeezed your hand.

“Only because I’m feeling charitable today.”

Joel shook his head with an amused scoff.

The surprise you had thought of wasn’t far and you clocked the exact moment that Joel realized where your GPS was taking him. He glanced over at you before looking back to the road with a voice of shock. “Putt putt golf? Really?” Joel pulled into a parking spot and turned to stare at you in disbelief. “This is what you wanna do for the rest of the night?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded. “What’s wrong, daddy?” The choice to use the nickname again was the correct one when you saw him stiffen in his seat. “Afraid I’m gonna kick your ass?”

Joel’s jaw locked and he snatched his keys from the ignition before climbing out of the truck. Knowing what he’d prefer, you stayed put until he came around to open your door. When he yanked it open you shot him a smug smile. Joel nodded once and held his hand out to you. “Don’t think I’m gonna take it easy on you.”

“I’d be upset if you did.” You replied as your feet landed on the ground and you stood right in front of him.

The two of you walked in through the front and you picked out a club while Joel paid for the course for you both. When asked if he wanted to do the 9 or 18 hole course he picked the longer one without even asking, and you smiled to yourself. You liked that he enjoyed his time with you as much as you did with him. He picked his own club and you grabbed a dark green ball for Joel and a light blue one for you.

“We need to make a deal.” You said while you both wandered out toward the first hole. The place wasn’t very crowded which meant you wouldn’t feel rushed.

“I think we already made a deal, last I checked.” Joel replied and motioned between the two of you.

“Funny.” You bumped your hip into him. “I meant for the game. Like... loser pays for post-game ice cream.”

Joel shook his head, “I’m not gonna let you pay for ice cream.”

“Okay, real bold of you to assume I’m gonna lose.” You laughed and Joel just shot you a confident smirk that fit his handsome features well. You stayed firm. “We need incentive.”

“Fine. How’s this? If you win, then I pay for ice cream.” He started. You followed his statement and narrowed your eyes at his wording. Joel continued. “But, if I win, then I pay for ice cream and I get to buy you an exorbitant and unnecessary gift.”

Your jaw fell open. “What?”

“What?”

“That’s kind of ridiculous.”

Joel looked smug as you both reached the first hole. “Just win and you won’t have to worry about it.” He dropped his ball down on the green, lined up his shot, and then hit. You watched the green ball roll down the first, simple path and drop into the hole. He turned in place to address your shock. “Or, you can think of suggestions to give me of what you might want.” Joel leaned in toward you just a bit and in a teasing tone added. “I’m thinkin' maybe a small country. Are you partial to Europe or Asia, sugar?”

“You can’t afford a country.” You scoffed. Joel shrugged and pulled back so you could take your turn, but your eyes widened. “Joel, can you afford a small country?” He walked down the course to fetch his ball. “Joel??”

The putt putt course brought out Joel’s competitive side and you loved it. It seemed like years of stress had been lifted off his shoulders as he let loose with you. As you both reached the end of the 18 holes he was in the lead by only a few strokes.

“You’ve technically already lost, sugar.” Joel chuckled as he waited for you to finish the last hole.

“Hush.” You replied.

Joel laughed then motioned toward you. “Look, you make a hole in one here and you win the entire thing.”

“Wait, really?” You perked up in excitement. Joel nodded. You readjusted your golf ball at the start and focused on lining up your shot. Joel continued to tease you while you tried to focus. You shot him a playful glare. “Excuse you, sir. Quiet on the course.”

Joel bowed his head in a mocking gesture and you went back to focusing on your turn. After lining it up, you swung. The ball bounced off the wall and made a beeline toward the hole. You began to bounce in excitement but the light blue ball rimmed around the hole and then sat on the edge without falling in.

“Are you shitting me!?” You cried in alarm. Joel laughed as you hurried over to where your ball sat. You pointed to it and looked at Joel. “Oh, come on. Come on!”

Joel stepped onto the course and kicked your ball in. He reached out to lightly tap the side of his knuckles under your chin making you warm. Joel let out a soft sigh and offered you a comforting smile. “Hey, it’s alright, sugar.” He leaned in. “I won’t buy you a country. I’ll just pick out some gaudy piece of jewelry.”

Your jaw fell again and he laughed. You gave him a playful shove, “I thought you were gonna give me the win!”

“Absolutely not.” Joel replied and took the club from your hand so you didn’t have to carry it. His hand settled on your lower back while gently leading you back towards the putt putt golf house. “I told you I wasn’t gonna take it easy on you.”

“What if I ask really nicely?”

“Aw, sugar, you can try.” Joel set both your clubs on the counter.

His hand never left your back as he led you back out toward the truck. You turned and resisted the urge to rest your hands on his chest. Instead, you stepped closer and just tilted your head up to face him, and with a sickly sweet voice you tried again, “Please can we call this my win, daddy?”

Joel’s gaze softened as he stared at you and he nodded once. “Still no. Come on, let’s get ice cream.”

“Hey!” You cried as he grasped your hand and continued to drag you to his truck. You laughed and tugged on his arm. “If you were just gonna turn me down again then why’d you even give me the chance to ask nice?”

“It might’ve worked. You never know.” Joel glanced your way once more. “And maybe I just wanted an excuse to hear you call me ‘daddy’ again.” You felt your face grow warm at his comment and there was no hiding the way it made your smile grow. Joel ran his thumb against the back of your hand and chuckled. “So? Ice cream? I’m buyin’.”

You counted your blessings and sent another silent thanks to your exes.

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#the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller

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scarlet-star-witch · 2 years

Text

Code Red

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Dustin has the worst timing and stumbles on a secret relationship

Warnings: Smut at the beginning!

Word Count: 1.5K

They shared loving smiles and Steve could’ve sworn he felt his heart skip a beat. In fact, he felt as though it would explode right out of his chest.

He had never smiled during sex before. Not until her.

He had never felt so loved before. Not until her.

The early morning light cascaded over her, casting shadows over her beautiful body, making the already stunning sight in front of him all the more ethereal until he wondered if this was truly real, if he was actually lucky enough to be the one causing her eyes to roll back, causing her fingers to tangle into his hair, causing the litany of toe-curling moans to spill from her beautiful lips.

It all felt too good to be true.

“Steve.” Her needy moan sounded, her hands tugging at his wild strands of hair, causing him to groan at the sensation he couldn’t get enough of.

When he had woken that morning to find her tangled with him, his arms wrapped around her securely, her head resting on his chest, he knew there was no way they wouldn’t end up in this position.

There was no possible way for him to resist her.

He amped up his pace, his slow, lazy thrusts quickening as he felt his end nearing all too soon. He gripped onto the pillow below her head roughly, his other hand taking a hold of her waist, gripping it tightly and helping with every needy grinding motion she gave.

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it.” He whispered frantically, sounding breathless and weak for her.

Their shared panting breaths were the only sound in the room. Their grips on each other tightened, as if they were frightened the other would let go.

Steve wanted this to last for hours, he wanted nothing more than to spend eternity wrapped around her, over her, inside her.

He watched her chest heave, her breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and he felt his end becoming even closer.

Her back arched tantalizingly, her jaw falling slack as a loud, heedy moan left her, his name following in the most breathless and needy way he’d ever heard before and it just about did him in.

“Steve, please, please.” She whimpered, her hands gripping onto his shoulders, her nails dragging across his skin hotly, making him hiss in pleasure.

“I got you.” He panted, his hands now cradling her head, his fingers tangling in her hair desperately. He leaned down and kissed her soundly, the action fiery and passionate.

He was now roughly fucking her, both of them racing towards a mind numbing climax. Moans were spilling from his lips that he wasn’t even aware of. His eyes fluttered closed, a harsh breath escaping him as he neared his peak.

A loud whine sounded from below him and forced his eyes open to watch her in bliss. Her back arched, her face twisted in pleasure, her mouth open as she cried out for him. His eyes eagerly took in the sight, his hands tugging at her hair, causing her loud moan to crack, turning into a whimper that pushed him over the edge.

His body went rigid, his hips moving erratically as he fell off the cliff’s edge. He breathed out harshly, his voice wavering into a grunt as he came hard.

His hips stuttered as he panted harshly, feeling his limbs grow weak. He laid himself down over her body, his head resting on her chest that was rising and falling rapidly in an effort to get her breath back.

They lay there boneless and breathless for a few minutes, both of them taking time to come back to their bodies.

Her fingers began to card through his messy hair mindlessly, earning her a tired sounding moan from him, making her laugh lightly. She kissed his forehead and let her eyes fall closed, reveling in the peaceful aftermath of their highs.

Eventually their breathing evened out, leaving the room silent and calm.

Realizing he was only seconds from falling back to sleep, Steve forced his eyes open, not wanting to waste the morning he had with her. He raised his head and kissed her chastely, desperate for her touch, even after the rigorous morning they’d shared. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Steve’s grip on her waist tightened, his kiss becoming deeper as he raised his body to hover over hers again, the fire within him growing yet again.

Her nails dragged down his back tantalizingly, making his shoulders tense, his length growing stiff again, his need for her never satisfied.

Until the sound of the door opening downstairs broke them out of their moment. Their kiss broke and they shared equal looks of horror.

“You didn’t lock the front door?” She hissed in a whisper, looking up at her boyfriend accusingly.

“We live in Hawkins.” He shrugged innocently.

“There’s a goddamn Mind Flayer walking around, idiot.”

“I really doubt a Mind Flayer would just walk in through the front door.”

“Steve-” Her admonishment was put on hold as they heard Dustin’s voice echo from downstairs.

“Steve? Are you home? We got a code red, do you hear me? Code red!”

The couple shared another look of horror and within a second, Steve had flung himself off of her and they sprang out of bed, rushing to put their clothes back on.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Steve whispered frantically, hopping on one leg as he struggled to pull his jeans on. “That kid has the worst goddamn timing.”

“Why is he here?”

“I don’t know!” Steve cried out, his eyes searching the floor for his t-shirt that she had eagerly ripped off of him the night before.

“See, this is why we lock doors.” She mumbled, earning her a blank look of unamusement from Steve.

“Really, we’re back to that… now?”

Suddenly Dustin’s heavy footsteps were heard thundering up the stairs quickly and they continued to hastily dress.

“Steve, are you here?”

The door opened abruptly and the room erupted in startled shrieks from all three of them. She threw herself onto the ground, hoping Dustin hadn’t seen her in nothing but a bra and shorts.

“Dude what the fuck?! Can’t you knock?!” Steve yelled, his words barely heard over Dustin’s screams of disgust as he covered his eyes with his hands.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, Jesus! What is wrong with you?!” Dustin screeched, his hands never leaving his face. “Please tell me that’s who I think it is!”

“What?” Steve asked in disbelief.

Dustin said her name and she popped her head up from behind the bed hesitantly and as Dustin peeked around his hands and saw her he let out a loud sigh of relief, the tensions from his shoulders leaving.

“Oh, thank god.”

“Uhh, what the hell is going on?” She asked hesitantly as she remained kneeling beside the bed, shielding her half naked body from the teenager.

“Steve’s been in love with you for years, like totally, completely in love, he never shut up about you and if he was stupid enough to sleep with another girl he’d know that we’d all kick his ass.” Dustin explained, directing the last half of his sentence Steve with venom.

“Dude, she’s right there.” Steve defended himself, motioning to the woman hiding frantically. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You didn’t lock the door.” She piped up, earning an annoyed glare from her boyfriend again.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why didn’t you lock the door?” Dustin asked. “I was ready to break a window. I actually wasn’t even gonna try the door cause I figured there was no way someone would be stupid enough to leave their front doo-”

“Enough!” Steve yelled in frustration, effectively shutting Dustin up. “Do you need something or did you come here just to ruin my morning?”

“Didn’t you hear me, Dingus? I said code red. It’s important, get some clothes on and meet us downstairs asap!” Dustin ordered and abruptly left the room with a heavy slam of the door.

“Us?” Steve questioned, already looking fed up at the prospect of what waited for them downstairs.

With a huff, he continued to get dressed, this time at a much slower pace. As he finished he noticed his girlfriend, now dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed, a smug smile on her face.

“What’s got you so smiley?” He asked with a laugh.

“You’ve been in love with me for years?”

“Oh god.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “We’ve been dating for a year.”

“Yeah, a year, not years.” She countered with a smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes half-heartedly and walked over to her side of the bed, grabbing her hands and hosting her up to her feet.

She giggled and leaned against his chest. “You love me.”

“Yeah, I’m having trouble remembering why at the moment.” He teased and linked his hand with hers as he guided her out of the room.

“Hey,” She stopped him before they could make their way downstairs to the group of kids waiting for them and grinned widely. “I love you too.”

Steve smiled and let out a small laugh. “I know.”

He leaned in and kissed her chastely, wishing they had time for more, and he continued to drag her down the stairs. “C’mon, crazy girl, we got a world to save.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic

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treysimp · 2 years

Text

"I’m not sure how better to say this... do you want to make out on my couch?"

Part 4

GN!Reader x Pomefiore (Vil, Rook, Epel)

Smooching, implied mutual pining and suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Reader is not physically described.

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I don't know how better to say this, but do you want to make out on my couch?

Vil bit his lip, shrugged, and then put his hand at the small of your back, dropping you into an elegant dip (or it would have been if you hadn’t yelped in fright). You clasped onto his neck for dear life, and to his credit, he did indeed grasp you firmer in response.

Like a movie, Vill traced from the top of your ear to your chin, gently tipping your face towards his before pulling you into a ravishing and intense kiss. Your eyes slid shut as you felt yourself being slowly raised back to standing while Vil generously lavished you with slow and romantic kisses.

You wondered if this could go on for hours, you would do anything for it to never stop. Vil’s kisses were unlike anything you had ever experienced before. You couldn’t help but think that all your dreams of this moment had underestimated him. Nothing could truly compare to his petal lips, his silk hair, and his perfect skin passing over yours softly as you exchanged sweet kisses.

Finally parting, you both stood in silence. Vil held your face between his palms, eyes boring into yours. You suddenly felt shy, but you couldn't look away either. It was like you were hypnotized. It made you wonder how he could ever think there was anyone fairer than he. You certainly had never seen one who was… not even…

“I refuse, by the way,” Vil says suddenly, cutting through your dreamy reverie. His voice perfectly even and serious. You sputtered in confusion at the statement.

“...you refuse?” You repeated. He literally just kissed you? What does he possibly mean by that?

“We are not going inside the hovel you call home.” He says snappily.

You frowned, he’d been in Ramshackle before for a week during the training camp, it’s not like he hasn’t been inside before.

“Well sorry for my ‘hovel’ but that's all I’ve got.” you snapped back, rolling your eyes. What in the world were you supposed to do about it?

Vil’s perfect face fell into a frown, finally releasing your cheeks from his grasp, brows knitting ever so slightly.

“It seems there must be a misunderstanding. Must I spell it out for you?” He says with a huff, crossing his arms and tossing his head to the side, blowing away the hair that had fallen out of his braid from his eyes.

“Yes your majesty, I would appreciate it,” you said, putting your hand on your hip and giving him a confused glare.

Really? What was his problem?

“As an actor, I am only worth as much as the stage I perform on,” he says, extending his hand in a smooth motion to follow each of his perfectly articulated syllables.

“Uh-huh.”

“Usually when I say that, the stage is a metaphor.” he continues, shaking one hand with a finger pointed to the sky while the other rests on his chin in a gesture to evoke thoughtfulness.

“Yep…” you had decided that he would probably be more upset if you didn’t respond to this weird interlude.

“But… in this case I… I…” he begins, eyes opening wide with intensity (perhaps a little too much, if you were honest).

“I will not have my first time intimately touching the love of my life anywhere that is less than gorgeous, Prefect! And that’s final!” Vil practically yelled, his perfect foundation no longer fully hiding the wild flush that had begun covering his complexion. His breathing was heavy, and his expression of frustration quickly turned to one of embarrassment.

Looking almost like he could burst into tears, Vil grabs your elbow and begins dragging you away from your hovel-adjacent mansion without explanation.

“We will go to MY room, we will make out on MY couch, and I will ravish you so perfectly that you will never so much as look at another man with fondness without tonight having been so perfect that it immediately ruins your attraction to him as it forcibly comes to the front of your mind!” he finishes, words tumbling out of his painted mouth at light speed. Vil was pulling you even more enthusiastically than before as his shoes clicked on the cobblestones that lead you to the mirrors.

You couldn’t help it, you burst into laughter. Vil stopped in his tracks, looking positively horrified.

“Look, I… I’m not… You're...” he mumbles your name softly, and the pure tenderness of his voice has you immediately pulling him into a hug even though your shoulders are still quivering with laughter.

“Vil… why didn’t you just say that in the first place? You can ravish me all you want.”

Ears turning red, Vil gives you a sharp nod as he tightens the embrace between the two of you.

“I’m not going to let you forget you said that. I’m not going to forgive you for ruining my beauty sleep so easily.”

"I wouldn't have it any other way, beautiful," you say, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Oh? Mon trésor, do repeat that request?”

You suddenly realized that you shouldn’t have turned your back to Rook when you felt one hand snake across your waist and the other brush behind your arm to grasp your chin. Startled but also more than a little excited at the close contact, you very much could hear each beat of your heart in your eardrums.

Hot breath fanned over your ear as you felt the skim of perfect teeth against your sensitive skin. Shivering excitedly, you stood perfectly still. Feeling as if you moved even slightly, took the smallest breath, or uttered the shortest syllable, the spell would be broken and he would disappear just as fast as he came into your life.

“You know, if you wanted to be caught by me, all you had to do was ask,” he murmured, each word tickling the baby hairs behind your ear.

The heat that crept up your neck was made of more than just embarrassment as you suddenly wondered if you did fall into a trap by asking this beautiful man inside of your house. The hand on your chin slowly turned your head to the side, and your eyes met with a sparkling crescent emerald green.

Feeling very much like every breath he took against your skin took away yours in turn, you closed your eyes for a moment. Feeling the thrill of him being so close and success being so close you could almost taste it. Building up your courage, you square your shoulders as you try to speak again.

“Is that a yes, Rook?” You ask. Your voice shook slightly more than you would have liked, but it certainly wasn’t from fear.

“Ah, ma belle amie, I think you already know the answer.” He said, a soft kiss descending to the cheek you had tilted nearest to him.

The beats of your heart go into overdrive at the simple and relatively innocent act of affection, and this forceful kickstart to your brain finally enticed you to turn your head to him.

Your eyes meet with one of the smuggest expressions you have ever seen in your life. You wanted to wipe it off of him.

“I suppose you’re right.” You say, taking the opportunity to surprise him for once by planting a passionate kiss onto the lips of the stupid, dumb, frustrating, incredibly hot, hunter.

With a soft hum, he reciprocates your kiss. A single strand falls loose from his ponytail and brushes past your cheek in a ticklish wave. The kisses are slow, soft, and so very tender. The romance that everyone wishes for when they dream of kissing the object of their affection for the first time.

Separating with a sigh, Rook’s cheeks are alight with a scarlet splash. “Oh! Mon amour! You do truly know how to stir the fondest fantasies of my heart.” He said, squeezing you ever closer. The embrace made you wonder if mice were this happy with the cheese they found before the trap clapped shut.

“… Rook.”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Can we go inside?”

Without a hint of embarrassment at being asked to let go, Rook loosens his arms to allow you to open the door you had been holding onto for the past couple of minutes.

Without skipping a beat, Rook places his hand at the small of your waist and ushers you inside, closing the door softly behind you both. You are escorted forward through the living room until you sit on the couch. However, rather than sit beside you, Rook kneels on the ground.

“Ma lune, mes étoiles-!” He begins, holding your hands in between one of his, the other elegantly removing his baseball cap with a flourish and holding it to his chest.

“Do you dare grant my fondest wish?”

You breathed in deeply, preparing yourself for what he may have cooked up in his french-speaking, romance-novel-infested brain.

“And what would that be, Rook?”

“For me to make a mess of you, my dear.”

You inhaled sharply, looking for any hint of a lie or facade in his glimmering emerald eyes.

Maybe you were just naive, but no matter how hard you searched each curve of his elegant face, you could never find anything that ever so much as hinted at deceit.

Well, you were down too bad to stop at this point anyway.

“I’m not convinced you’ve ever made a mess in your life, Rook.”

“Ohoho, well then ma cherie! Allow me the pleasure of surprising you.” throwing his hat into the air with an unnecessarily complex hand motion, Rook rises from his knees and uses his arms to box you in.

As he descends onto you with the promise of more, you can’t feel even a trace of regret at letting this hunter into your den. For better, or for worse.

(Link to the smutty conclusion of Rook's story: for both AFAB! and AMAB! readers)

“…this isn’t fair.”

You spun around sharply to make eye contact with Epel, his arms crossed and his face screwed into a frown.

“Am I really supposed to believe that? That all my dreams would just come true suddenly? Who do you take me for? Did someone put you up to this?” Epel’s lavender hair falls into his eyes and his foot taps incessantly to the same rhythm that his eyes are rapidly darting between your face and the wall. Your heart falls while you look at him.

“Epel..” you say with a sign, pinching your nose in agitation. Was he this stupid?

“What reason could I possibly be lying to you? What do I possibly have to gain?” you cross your arms haughtily, mirroring his body language.

Epel is still frowning, but his eyebrows seemed to soften just a bit.

“I don’t know! I just don’t… This isn’t…” he falters, seemingly deflating in front of you.

You decided that the best bet is just to start your question again, “...Epel, you are gorgeous and I am trying to come on to you. Will you make out with me?”

For once the little country boy was speechless. His huge soft eyes were wide and his hand drifted to his mouth to cover his gaping mouth.

It seems like at least some of Vil’s lessons in being demure had paid off, you supposed.

Finally pulling himself together enough to speak, he starts trying to argue again. “Y-you can’t tease me like..” he began in a sputter, but you immediately cut him off.

“Epel, if you want to say no do it! But just… look, I’m really…” your eyes were burning. How frustrating! What were you supposed to do? He wouldn’t believe you!

“No! I am-! I do!” Epel's face lit a bright ruby as he grabbed you by the shoulders, shining blue eyes boring into yours. After a pause that felt like a lifetime, he finally rushed himself towards you, teeth clattering against your own in his haste.

Your incisor felt like hell, but you quickly were convinced to forget. Epel’s kisses were hungry, aggressive, and wild. You were overwhelmed by the pure emotion of it all, of the desperate push and pull of his body as he did everything in his power to try and convey exactly how he was feeling. After a pregnant pause, Epel separates from you in a huff, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, clearly trying to hide his face from view.

“Ya can’t… ya can’t just…” Epel was panting, his hands trembled, and his face was painted with a beautiful flush.

“…this is so unfair.” He finished, hands grabbing at your clothing to grope at every piece of skin he could get his hands on.

You were immediately pushed up against the door from the surprising strength of his frail-appearing body, but you couldn’t stop your mouth curving into a grin as you watched Epel try and fail to unbutton your collar.

Looking up at you with a glare, Epel finally just pulled your shirt hard enough that the button just popped off.

“Hey! I don’t have that many shirts, you know!” you said, trying to sound offended. He was cute when he was being bratty, but you didn’t want to encourage him.

“Quit complainin’!” he huffed, successfully opening your shirt further without needing to pop more stitches. Looking up to your face with a mischievous grin, Epel chooses to kiss your neck sweetly. Making you almost forget that you were mad… almost.

“Epel…” you whine quietly, you were sure he was leaving marks. He was biting your skin hard, firmly laving his tongue against every blooming purple mark once completed. Looking very satisfied with himself, he started on the other side.

“Don’t worry…” a sigh, a bite, a snicker “I have good concealer, y’know?” he says with another hearty laugh, seeming to get a kick out of the idea that the no-doubt expensive makeup was being wasted on covering up the marks that he was making on you. The marks that proved it was him that you wanted. He almost felt high on the validation.

“...Epel… do you…” God, it was hard to talk when he kept playfully nipping at your windpipe.

“Do you want to actually get on the couch?” you finished, misty eyes staring at him as the moonlight made him look almost like an angel. If it weren’t for the devious look on his face, that is.

“No…” he said softly, pressing you further into the wood planks of your front door, ever more firm, ever more persistent.

“I want you right here.”

-----

Oh man I really enjoyed this chapter. I feel like the more I write for twst the ever harder it becomes to tell which boys are even my favorite anymore, I just love them all so much.

As always, let me know who you want to see next and tell me if there are any ideas you want to share. Survey said yes on the spicy continuations so I may do a new fic post for those that includes these introductions and picks up where they left off. (I'm coming for you Floyd)

Love you, reader! Thank you everyone that told me happy birthday yesterday!

#vil shoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #gender neutral reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook twst #vil twst #epel x reader #epel felmier #epel twisted wonderland #rook twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #reader insert #couch series

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 2 months

Text

Word count: 1600+

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, malnutrition; swear words

Part XIX | Part XXI

The beast watched you, growling lowly and dangerously. No sign of recognition in his eyes or tense posture. He seemed to be ready to tear the unwelcome intruders into shreds.

"No sudden moves. Just slowly, easily." Lucien whispered next to your ear, his big hand on your waist.

"Hello, Tamlin," he said to the beast in a soothing voice. "It's me, Lucien. I brought you a visitor. Do you remember Y/N?"

The beast didn't even blink, eyes on you. It seemed he didn't understand words anymore. Sizing you up as predator assessing his prey, he slowly moved forward and his huge bear-like body came to view.

You gasped, your heart breaking at the sight of him. He was just walking skeleton wrapped in thick fur. You could count all of his ribs even from afar.

Lucien very slowly took a step back, pulling you with him, but you refused to move. He swallowed so hard even Tamlin heard it and growled at him.

"Please, just follow me," he lowly hissed through clenched teeth. "It's too dangerous. He already saw you and doesn't seem to be overjoyed. We can try it again in the morning and hope he is in better mood."

"No," you said firmly. "I won't leave him."

"Fuck!" The beast moved swiftly, bridging the distance between you with two jumps. Lucien drew a dagger while moving forward to shield you with his body. "Tamlin, we don't want to hurt you, but-"

"Stop," you snapped for his wrist and tried to push his hand with the dagger down. "Put it away."

The sound that Tamlin made, shook the walls so much that pieces of plaster fell off. Claws whizzed through the air and dagger flew off to the corner of the room.

Lucien cried out in pain. Blood ran from a deep cut on the back of his hand, drawing deep crimson flowers on the floor. The claws caught on your dress, too, cutting open holes into a skirt, missing your flesh by an inch.

The beast opened its mouth ready to bite. You didn't think, you just acted. You moved as fast as you could and getting between deadly fangs and cursing Lucien, you spread your arms wide.

"Tamlin, no," you shouted, shutting your eyes closed you waited for a pain that never came.

Slightly trembling, you dared to crack one eye open. The beast froze in mid-motion with wide opened mouth, sharp fangs just inches from your chest. His gaze was wild, ruthless and full of rage. But there was also something like a recognition in his eyes. Growling he shut the mouth, hunched over and glaring at you he backed down. You held his gaze. A tiny bud of hope bloomed in your heart.

Slowly you turned your back to him. Huff of warm air fanned the back of your neck. You froze on the spot, but nothing happened.

Lucien was gaping at you with pained expression. He held his hurt hand, tucking it to his chest. A small puddle was forming on the floor below him, his front was soaked with blood.

You tore off a piece of your petticoat. "Can I see it?" Hesitantly, he let you take a look while his eyes jumped between you and the beast behind your back. "It's quite deep, but thanks Mother, it's already starting to close," you breathed sigh of relief.

You tended it as best as you could at the moment and pivoted back to the beast. He watched you carefully, snarling, still ready to attack.

Strangely, you weren't scared of him so much now. Even your heartbeat slowed down to almost normal. You nearly started to believe that he wouldn't hurt you.

Holding his gaze you slowly raised your hands with palms upward.

"It's okay, Tamlin," you spoke soothingly and smiled. He barked at you. You winced, but you managed to stay rooted at the spot. Your pulse quickened again. The courage you felt before, vanished.

"Y/N," Lucien warned lowly from behind you. "We should leave." His unhurt hand touched your waist, ready to pull you back if the beast decided to attack for real.

"Let me at least try it," you pleaded while still holding Tamlin's gaze. You wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt you with all your heart, but after all, in his current state he was unpredictable. You let out a shaky breath.

The beast licked its lips snarling lowly.

"It's okay, Tamlin." Your voice was trembling. "I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help you. Like the last time. Do you remember it?"

He finally blinked, his gaze lowered to the floor for a second. He took a step back.

"Will you let me help you?"

He growled and jumped forward, stopping with his fangs an inch from your face. A tear slid down your face, the yellow eyes followed its trail. You didn't dare to move even though Lucien yanked on your waist, trying to push you aside, out of the beast's reach.

"Please, Tamlin. I'm begging you."

His stare faltered and after few moments that felt like forever, he reluctantly lowered his head. Moving very slowly you placed your hand on his head, caressing him gently between antlers. He closed his eyes and made a whimper like sound.

"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whispered in awe behind you. But he shouldn't have done that. The beast moved forward, towering over you and snapping at him. Lucien jumped back in time to avoid his fangs.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. "No!" The beast stopped. "It's friend. He won't hurt you. Lucien came to help you, too."

The beast snarled one more time, heaving. He seemed to be at the end with his strength. His hind legs buckled and he sat down to cover the sudden weakness.

"Are you tired, Tamlin?" You whispered, still hugging him and caressing the dirty fur on his back. "Would you like to drink some water?"

The sound he made sounded like no. He didn't speak, probably couldn't. The animal was stronger, suppressing Tamlin's real form.

"Okay, so no water. How about tea?" He seemed considering it for a moment. He made another animal sounds. These sounded like agreement. "Good. So tea it is," you smiled at him.

"Do you think there are some herbs around here?" You half-turned to Lucien who was silently watching over you, hurt hand along his side, the other one ready to protect you.

"I guess there are some in the garden," he said warily.

"Could you show me where?"

The beast stood up, growling, one of his front paw curled around you, pulling you closer. Lucien was immediately next to you, reaching for you.

"It's okay. I'm fine," you assured him, chuckling. "I guess he doesn't want me to go. What should we do now?"

Lucien gritted his teeth, eyes watching over the place where Tamlin was touching you, his pointed claws too close to your flesh.

"Do you think you could bring some?" you offered the only possible solution as Tamlin was apparently too weak to make it to the garden and back.

"I could, but forget that I will leave you here alone."

You arched a brow. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." You gazed at each other, unblinking. At last Lucien lost and blinked. "Fuck," he grunted under his breath, frowning and ran hand through his long hair. "You won. I'll do it. What herbs do you need?"

Your lips curled into satisfied smile. "Do you think you could find some chamomile? And maybe even lemon balm?"

"Yeah, I think some grew in the kitchen's garden. I can go and check it out. But. If something happens. Anything. You will shout as loud as you can and run for your life. And use this." He forced another dagger into your hand. It was much smaller than the first one he lost.

"I-" you wanted to refuse it, but his narrowed eyes didn't allow any compromise. It would be either this or he wouldn't go. "Fine."

"Fine," he repeated and watching you, Lucien backed from the room.

"Can we move to the kitchen to boil the water?" you asked Tamlin. He grunted, but he moved toward the doors.

Lucien returned as soon as you put a kettle and a cauldron on the fire, hand full of herbs you asked for. The chance of finding some clean bandages in the mess around was minimal, so you sacrificed the rest of your petticoat and sterilised it in the boiling water.

When the tea was ready Lucien gladly accepted a cup and sipping the hot drink he watched Tamlin who at first sniffed around his bowl, but once he hesitantly drank, he couldn't stop and asked even for the seconds.

Meanwhile you tended to Lucien's wound, carefully washing it out with chamomile extract and again bandaged it with clean sterilised strip of fabric. Lucien didn't so much as hiss, thanking you afterwards.

It was quite late at night when you finished and the three of you were really tired. Tamlin's room was completely destroyed, but Lucien helped you find two not so dirty and damaged mattresses and move them to one of the rooms in better condition.

You laid down, exhausted, but happy being back in Spring. Tamlin, now clean thanks to Lucien's magic, stretched out next to you, snout in your hair.

Lucien insisted on putting the other mattress right next to yours, refusing to leave you with the beast alone. Before you drifted into sleep, you felt his big hand touching yours. The warmth from his skin seeped into your body and wrapped around you like a thick blanket, lulling you into the deepest sleep you had in last months.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot

#english isnt my first language #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin x reader #pro tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar

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starrierknight · 8 months

Text

𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.” ― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 5k

pairing— vampire slayer!dom!gn!reader x vampire!sub!gojo

cws/tags— enemies to enemies w/ benefits, S&M, predator/prey dynamic, knifeplay, bloodplay, blood as an aphrodisiac, heavy degradation (+use of “slut”), humiliation, biting & marking, oral + fingering (reader receiving), reader has AFAB anatomy but isn’t gendered, dry humping, hairpulling, inaccurate vampire lore, porn w/ plot, porn w/ (angsty) feelings, very description heavy

The passage of time had led you to this decisive moment. There he kneeled, ensnared by the circumstance of your bait, his once confident demeanour reduced to vulnerability. Wide-eyed and labouring breaths betrayed his desperation, his pale chest heaving under that billowing white shirt.

You stood tall, your gaze an icy lance that pierced through the layers of cunning that once cloaked this despicable being. A vampire, an embodiment of the dark myths that have haunted humanity for centuries. In the story of your seasoned exploits, the ones you’d slain had been unfathomable monsters, grotesque aberrations. The raw power that you expected to emanate from a monster so ancient, so sinister, seemed to have dulled into something strangely human. His aura of malevolence was overshadowed by a pitiable aura of need. The haunting question dawned on the precipice of your thoughts: Could it be that even the darkest of beings can yearn, can ache for something beyond their cursed existence?

The tableau is one of stark contrasts—the resolute hunter and the feeble prey, the chilling void of the night and the warmth of desperate need. The air remained unbroken: You, the embodiment of unyielding purpose, and he, an enigma knelt before you, leaving the promise of revelation in his desperate, longing gaze.

The monster before you took on a hauntingly primal quality. A languid, serpentine motion as his tongue darted out, collecting the remnants of blood, your blood, that clung to his lips. The taste, metallic and potent as you knew it to be, was like the sweetest nectar to him. A guttural groan escaped his parted lips, a sound laden with both pleasure and pain; The very act of an existence marked by unending darkness and insatiable hunger. With deliberate slowness, his eyes shuttered closed, a brief surrender of ecstasy. His lashes casted long shadows against his pale, parchment-like skin.

“Speak, monster,” you said in a cool, steady tone.

Time seemed to expand and contract, a canvas stretched taut, as he eventually broke the stillness.

“Oh, come on. Why the formalities?” he taunted in an airy whisper, a smug lilt to his tone. “Don’t you think we’re past that?”

His eyelids parted, revealing pupils dilated to a darkness. Those eyes, a chromatic anomaly amidst the desolation of his existence, were a cerulean that defied nature's palette. They were too blue, too vivid—a celestial fragment from the vast expanse of the heavens that had fallen into his wretched possession.

“Tell me your name before I slay you tonight,” you spat, your will unwavering.

His eyes drank you in with an uncanny hunger. “Gojo Satoru. Though, please, Satoru will do just fine.”

You tilted your head to one side, leaning down to inspect him with morbid fascination. He was disturbingly beautiful: Far too angelic in appearance, though you supposed it was a façade to lure in his prey. How ironic.

“Gojo Satoru,” you murmured, still inspecting him. Satoru shuddered at the way his name fell from your mouth, and he groaned again. “That’s a very human name, unfit for you… Though it’s your vampiric desperation that got you here, isn’t it?”

Satoru's response sliced through the charged atmosphere like a serrated blade. His lips parted in a breathy exhalation that transformed into a rueful laugh, a delicate sound that danced in the air. The corners of his mouth quirked into a crooked smile, a wry look that exposed his pointed fangs.

“Was it yours, by the way?”

“The blood?”

“The blood. The blood in the chalice—that bait you left for me. Was it yours? Did you… alter it?”

You frowned and raised a brow. Instinctively, your hand moved to your belt, where your weapon of choice rested. The scabbard relinquished its hold with a whisper of leather, allowing the ornate silver dagger to emerge into the moonlit room. Your fingers curled around the hilt, finding solace in the familiarity of its weight.

“Your final moments are rapidly approaching, and you question my methods for luring you here?” you asked bemusedly.

Satoru shrugged one shoulder, but his eyes snapped to focus on the blade. “I’m just making friendly conversation.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No,” he laughed again, hunger flashing in his eyes, “I’m not. Tell me, though.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “It’s mine. Unaltered.”

Satoru's throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, the sound resonating. He took a deep breath. “So, you just taste… like that, do you?”

“Like ‘that’?”

“Just so… sweet. Humans aren’t usually so sweet,” he clarified.

With a fluid motion, you idly twirled the dagger through the air. The blade's polished surface caught the moon's glow, transforming its silvery sheen into an almost-blue hue, the ornate dagger an extension of your intent. The blade's tip, sharpened to a lethal point, found its mark with an almost imperceptible pressure against Satoru's skin.

The chill of the metal against his neck was a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body. The sensation was immediate, a jolt of icy reality that underscored the gravity of your confrontation. His breath hitched, his pupils dilated more, the pulse of his veins thundering in tandem with the rhythm of his twisted excitement.

“You disgust me,” you hissed, pressing the blade to his neck so that it was perilously close to breaking his skin.

The whine that escaped his lips was involuntary, a mixture of pain and desire that reverberated through the charged air. It was a reminder that his existence, no matter how abhorrent, was still woven with threads of need and yearning. He pressed closer to the flat of the blade—the dichotomy of his action hauntingly human. The cold metal met the feverish heat of his pale skin, his lips parted as he breathed heavily.

“Please,” the longing etched into his contorted expression spoke of desire both primal and inexplicable. “One last request before it’s over. Please.”

“You think you deserve a last request?” you challenged, eyes narrowed with scrutiny.

Satoru moistened his lips, eyes darting from you to around the room as he scrambled to provide you with an answer to your question. The room, with its moonlit corners and shadows, seemed to close in, the walls serving as both witnesses and silent participants in this exchange between hunter and hunted, captor and captive. The request that followed was both shocking and strangely intimate:

“I was human, once,” he began, “I wanted a good death for myself, once. Please, give me a shred of humanity to die with. Please, let me taste you before you kill me.”

It's a collision of desires—a yearning for connection, for a glimpse of the humanity he once possessed, and the chilling reminder of his vampiric nature.

You laughed coldly, sneering down at him. “And humanity is blood, is it?”

“Please.”

Jutting your chin out, your gaze seared downward. The intensity of your stare, unyielding and incisive, spoke of your unwavering resolve in the face of his plea. The retraction of the dagger was a calculated move—an action that rippled with implications.

As the blade sliced across the palm of your hand, your own blood welled forth, a crimson testament to your commitment to the path you'd chosen. The sting was a reminder of the sacrifices you were willing to make, and the offering of the blade, now smeared with your blood, was a bridge.

His reaction was immediate and visceral. The scent of your blood, intoxicatingly sweet to his heightened senses, seemed to fill the room; A siren's call. Satoru’s breathing grew heavy. His eyes locked onto the vivid liquid, reflecting a hunger that surpassed all others.

“Have your taste before I slaughter you, Satoru.”

As if drawn by an irresistible force, Satoru's compliance was immediate and unquestioning. As his tongue darted out to lick the smeared blood from the flat of the blade, the room seemed to hold its breath, a voyeur to this intimate ritual between predator and prey. The metallic glint of your blood met his tongue with an electric charge, a connection that transcended what he thought he had centuries of damned experience with. The blood's influence, as it coursed through the currents of his veins, was immediate and potent.

The sweet nature of your blood sparked an undeniable fire within Satoru; A desire, once lurking in the shadows, that now surged to the forefront of his consciousness. The echoes of his moans, the rise and fall of his uneven breaths, served as evidence of the pure need he experienced.

“You really are the most repulsive thing I’ve ever seen,” you muttered, regarding him with sickly interest. Satoru's gaze—those magnificently blue eyes, like pools of sapphire—rose from the blade, still in his kneeling position, to meet yours.

“That was hardly a taste,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Your indignant silence was punctuated by the steady rhythm of dripping blood. Drip-drip-drip. You felt the warmth from the gash on your non-dominant hand curl around your fingers, falling with resonance onto the aged wooden floorboards. Drip-drip-drip. As your gaze swept across the space, the play of light and shadow painted the scene. Your attention fell upon a solitary chair nestled in the corner.

Without uttering a single word, your injured hand lifted and extended, your blood-stained fingers pointing with stark clarity towards the chair. Drip-drip. The gesture was a directive, an invitation, an unspoken promise. Satoru, his towering presence marked by the contrast of moonlight and shadows, heeded the call of your gesture. With a deliberate grace, he approached the chair, the sound of its legs scraping against the wooden floor, the very air itself holding its breath.

The surprise that unfurled within you was mirrored by the unexpected turn of events. As he dragged the chair closer, your pulse quickened, and you sat. Then, in a gesture that defied your expectations, he knelt before you once more, his handsome expression a mixture of reverence, his own expectation, his own unrivalled desire.

“You deserve less than I’m giving you,” you said lowly, “But enjoy yourself while you can.”

You extended your injured hand, the delicate appendage still weeping ruby-red tears. Satoru responded instinctively, cradling your wounded palm in his larger hands, their touch exuding a profound gentleness. As if guided by an innate sense of care, he brought your bloodied offering to his face, a visage that seemed both ravenous and reverent. The moment his tongue made contact with the open wound, a jolt of sensation shot through your body. The taste of your blood, infused with the sweet essence of your very being, flooded his senses. His eyes, once fixed on you, now fluttered closed, and a euphoric expression painted his features. As if overwhelmed by a wave of intense pleasure, his eyelids fluttered, and his irises seemed to lose focus, rolling upwards.

The world around Satoru seemed to dim, his focus narrowing to the essence that flowed from your wound. Each taste, each drop, acted like a potent aphrodisiac, igniting a fire that blazed within him. His body responded with a tremor, his pale hands involuntarily tightening their hold on your injured palm. His muffled groans, now a mixture of raw need and aching restraint, reverberated through your body.

Satoru’s soft, warm mouth enveloped the open wound, a fervent kiss that drew forth the crimson nectar. As he sucked on the source of this intoxicating sweetness, rivulets of blood painted intricate patterns on his lower face, a macabre, and yet strangely artistic, display. Despite his immense presence, he remained on his knees before your chair, his powerful form now a portrait of vulnerability. Satoru’s head, heavy with the weight of his longing, found its place on your lap, a gesture that radiated a delicate surrender. His silvery hair, like silk against your legs, contrasted starkly with the increasingly depraved display.

“You really are vile,” you breathed, the sting from the wound shooting up your arm.

Your grip on the dagger in your dominant hand tightened instinctively, and a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursed through you as his tongue lapped at your skin. Your senses keenly caught the subtle shifts in his body language, the telltale signs of his arousal and need. The feeling of his fingers tightening around your wounded hand, his thighs pressing and rubbing with a rhythmic urgency—a plea for something unattainable yet relentlessly craved.

With a languid grace, he shifted his kneeling position, his body settling. As if guided by some unseen force, he positioned himself so that he was seated on one of your boots. His head found its resting place on your thigh, and his mouth maintained its fervent dance upon your hand—his lips and tongue slid over your skin, causing a paradoxical sensation of tension and pleasure that set your nerves alight.

His body responded to the all-encompassing craving that had engulfed him with a feverish urgency. The torrent of desire coursing through him could no longer be suppressed, and his body moved of its own accord. In a desperate bid for release, he pressed his hard-on against your boot, the friction providing a fleeting respite from the intensity that consumed him. Desperate moans, heavy with frustration, escaped him, the sound an unbridled testament to the intensity of the moment.

Finally, his fangs sank into the tender palm of your hand with a swift, hypnotic movement. The moment his fangs pierced your skin, a rush of sensations cascaded through you and a gasp, half surprise and half excitement, tumbled from your lips. The pressure of his bite, a fierce declaration of his need, sent shockwaves through your body.

"Did I say you could bite?" you hissed through gritted teeth.

With a decisiveness born of instinct, your dominant hand moved with purpose. The edge of the dagger's blade found its place against the vulnerable curve of his neck, pressing into his pale skin as his own blood, darker and more tainted than yours, seeped onto the cool metal.

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a desperate apology. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please…”

His lips sought redemption in a sequence of fervent kisses. They trailed across the delicate skin of your wrist, your knuckles, and the tips of your fingers. The gesture, if not for the lingering urgency of his movements, would have held a sweet tenderness, an attempt to mend what had been broken. Amid this tangled web of feelings, the grinding of his arousal against you persisted, a relentless echo of his desire. The moans that escaped him seemed to punctuate each kiss, a wretched symphony of need.

“You’re fucking pathetic. You should see yourself right now,” you scolded, “On your knees for me, grinding against my leg like a fucking feral animal.”

His body moved with a desperate rhythm, a primal need guiding his every motion. With each rutted thrust, he sought an elusive release, a respite from the smouldering longing between his thighs. His movements were fueled by a frenetic energy, his hips surging upward in a rhythm that spoke of desperation and longing. The dagger's lethal caress against his neck seemed only to further stoke the fire within him.

Gasping for air, Satoru’s breaths came in ragged intervals, but amidst the tumult, a single word slipped past his lips—a plea heavy with need. "Please."

“Please what? What are you even begging for, slut?” You laughed at him. “You wanna taste some more? You wanna cum for me?”

“Fuck, please… I need you… I need you so badly, please,” he whined, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, his head still resting on your thigh.

“You want more? More blood?”

“Y-yes, but… more you. I just, fuck… Need more of you,” he panted.

The sound of his own confession served as a catalyst, the final thread that unravelled his restraint. With a loud and unfiltered moan, Satoru fell apart on his knees before you. His hips jerked against you with a frantic urgency as he whimpered. The tension that had been building, coil by coil, snapped like a taut band, releasing a flood of euphoria that consumed him entirely. At that moment, there was no room for thought, only the unadulterated pleasure that surged through his veins. The pleasure, a heady mix of physical release and emotional surrender, overtook his senses, rendering his mind blank and his body malleable under its power. His mouth parted in a silent exhalation of bliss, boring witness to the depth of his pleasure.

Even in the aftermath of his release, his body continued to move in a slow, rhythmic grind against you as the aftershocks of cumming reverberated through him. The room seemed to shimmer with the echoes of his moans.

Your bloody fingers laced into his silky, white hair. With a firm tug, you lifted his head, his body draped across your leg in surrender to the aftermath of his climax. The tip of the dagger's blade traced a deliberate path along his jaw; The steel's cool touch acted as a focal point, drawing his attention to you in his post-orgasm daze. The sensation pierced through the fog of pleasure, reorienting him.

“Vampires are supposed to be scary, Satoru. Where’s the beast I came to slaughter tonight?” you taunted, a lopsided grin splitting your features. Caressing his face with the flat of the dagger’s blade in your dominant hand, your grip on his hair tightened—he winced and whined in pain, much to your satisfaction.

“I’m… I-I am still a monster,” he mumbled in weak protest. “I’m still a monster, even if I need you… Oh, God, how I need you…”

His white, billowing shirt, once pristine, now clung to his skin with a sheen of sweat. The fabric, once airy and light, had transformed into a second skin, moulded to the contours of his form by the heat of his actions. The shirt, rendered translucent by the moisture, hinted at the contours beneath—the rise and fall of his chest, the sculpted lines of his handsome body.

"You're a fucking mess, y'know that? A mess so pathetic, it's disgusting," you remarked, your voice a mixture of exasperation and a touch of distant amusement.

Just before he could retort, you acted swiftly, clapping your injured hand over his mouth. The surprise on his face was palpable, a mix of alarm and intrigue as he found his voice silenced. The sensation of your touch against his lips seemed to ignite a response within him, a mixture of surprise and a familiar yearning. Despite the unexpectedness of the action, his instincts seemed to guide him. His tongue, quick and warm, darted out to taste your blood once more. A groan escaped his lips. His body responded with a shudder, a ripple of pleasure that coursed through his frame.

“Dumb fucking slut,” you laughed quietly. “I’ve been so good to you, and you’re talking back. I’ll teach you manners before I slay you tonight.”

A muffled moan, laden with a mixture of need and surrender, escaped from behind your bloody palm that covered his mouth. The sound seemed to hang in the air. His gaze, fixed upon you with half-lidded eyes, held a certain vulnerability. You leaned in closer, your proximity a tantalizing promise. His half-lidded gaze met yours.

"You need to taste me? Let's see how badly."

The words held a challenge, a daring invitation. The proximity between your lips, the touch of your hand against his skin, the dangerous lilt to your voice—it made him crave so much that he ached for you. Satoru's back arched like a bowstring, his head tilting back slightly as he let out a small, soft moan. You removed your hand from his mouth and retracted the dagger’s blade that had been held against his neck.

In a frenzy born of unbridled desire, Satoru's actions took on a new urgency. His hands, no longer restrained by inhibition, sought purchase against the buttons on your trousers. Fingers that trembled with need fumbled against the fabric, the movements driven by a hunger that consumed him entirely. Each button undone marked a step closer to a line crossed, and the air crackled with the intensity of his actions.

With your trousers discarded, his hands found their place on your bare thighs, his touch both tentative and determined. He shifted between your legs, his form kneeling before you while you remained seated in the chair. His positioning spoke of a certain vulnerability, a submission he had adopted in your presence. His hands traced a path across the expanse of your bare skin, a map of desire that unfolded beneath his touch. Beginning at the inside of your knee, his movements were deliberate and unhurried, a slow exploration of the terrain he now navigated.

“Thank you… Oh, thank you, I need this so badly,” he murmured.

Your breathing had grown laboured, a lazy smile tugging at your lips as you watched. “You’re so desperate, aren’t you?”

“Yes. God, yes, please… I just need you,” Satoru whispered.

The dagger in your dominant hand clattered to the floor, and both of your hands took root in his white hair instead. The sensation of your hands in Satoru’s hair seemed to awaken a primal response, his body shivering and trembling beneath your touch. His closeness, his lips against your skin, painted a vivid picture of his passion. His kisses, once deliberate and slow, had transformed into something more. They were now passionate, desperate—an unfiltered expression lust.

His mouth moved with an animalistic need, tracing a fiery path up your thigh. The pressure of his fingers, his grip bordering on painful, mirrored the urgency that had taken hold of him. The threat of his fangs grazed against your sensitive skin, and your hands gripped his hair harder. Satoru was lost in the sensations that pulsed through him, his body a vessel for the consuming ecstasy that had taken hold. His lips, once soft and reverent, were now a reflection of his unfiltered need—a need that was unashamedly on display, stripped of all pretence.

As his jaw moved against your skin, the strength of his bite left indelible marks, and the lines between pleasure and pain blurred to become one. The room echoed with his cries, each whine and moan a declaration of his longing. Your name, a desperate refrain, punctuated his every sound, the syllables a litany of desire. Saliva glistened on your thigh as his teeth left behind a trail of marks and bruises. His grip on your thighs, unyielding and possessive, held you captive. The drool that trailed down his chin, mingling with his moans, was a visual testament to the intensity of his lust. The sound of his needy moans, louder than ever before, echoed in the air. His teeth digging deeper into your skin were causing bleeding that added to the pleasure.

You let out a sharp exhale, the sound escaping through clenched teeth, your body reacting to the dual sensations. A low groan followed, a mixture of discomfort and an unexpected yearning, escaping from deep within you. Your hips, an unconscious reaction to the intimate contact, shifted towards him—a movement that made him whine needily. The warmth of his tongue against your skin, the wetness that traced the path of the blood and saliva, painted a vivid picture of your shared bloodlust.

"God, I want you so bad... So bad. Oh, please... Please... Don't hold back... Let yourself have me... Let yourself have me..." the words were a broken mantra that emerged from his lips, the syllables heavy with longing.

“H-Have you?” you groaned.

His bites became harsher, leaving even deeper marks in your flesh. But your moans were having the opposite effect, driving him closer to that sweet insanity.

"Oh, God... Please, please... Please..." he begged in a fractured voice.

As his tongue swept over the wounds he had created, an intense heat spread across your skin, merging with the dampness of the blood that trickled forth. Iron lingered in the air, mingling with the primal scent of exertion and urgency. With an unyielding grip, his fingers clenched around your thighs, the strength of his hold leaving imprints. Your senses wavered between the stinging sensation where his nails dug into your flesh and the surreal touch of his mouth at work.

With firm urgency, you guided his face to your cunt, an unspoken directive that he obeyed without hesitation. As your fingers threaded through his hair, a mixture of tugs and pulls that mirrored the ebb and flow of your need, his name escaped your lips like a prayer. In response, a resonant moan spilt from his lips, a reflection of your name, as if he were returning your prayer in kind. Completely at your mercy, his obedience was an unspoken offering, his face moving to kiss the softest skin of your inner thighs.

Satoru’s breath was hot enough that you could feel him breathe against you, as if the fabric of your underwear was a mere afterthought. Inhaling through his nose, the combined sent of your blood, and your arousal pooling between your thighs, made his eyes shutter closed, moaning. His fingers quivered with anticipation, his nails scratching your thighs as he licked a flat, broad stripe across your clothed pussy. He tilted his head and rhythmically moved his lips against you so the fabric was soaked with your wetness and his spit. Oh, how he yearned to taste everything you would offer him, making it run down your thighs just so he could lap it up.

His mouth became a haven of sensations, each deliberate nudge of his nose against your clit igniting a cascade of sparks that danced along your nerve endings. The friction created by his touch caused a cascade of moans to spill from your lips. His devotion was palpable in the way he knelt before you, an embodiment of desire and submission that bordered on divine: His open mouth, his cheeks rosy, his eyes sealed shut in a state of blissful surrender.

“Fuck, maybe there’s a use f-for you, after all,” you murmured.

One of his hands slid your underwear out of the way. The moment hung in suspended animation, a pause that held as he halted his other movements to marvel at you. The vision before him was a masterpiece; You were a masterpiece.

Satoru’s long, pretty fingers dipped between your folds, sliding through the velvety slickness, before bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them. He whined praise at the taste, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes that shined with reverence. His eyes, those pools of cool blue, met yours in a gaze that transcended words, brimming reverence that could only be equated to worship.

He carefully pushed a finger inside you, looking up at you hungrily as he felt your walls hugging the digit. Your breath trembled and hitched, a shaky exhale escaping your lips as you indulged in the feeling—a primal yearning that coiled hotly like a serpent in your abdomen. With steadfast devotion, he turned his attention to your sensitivity, his mouth finding purchase on your clit. The skilled wetness of his tongue traced deliberate circles around the tender bundle of nerves, each flicker of contact a jolt of sensation that reverberated through your core. A plaintive whine emerged from him, the vibration a tantalising echo that melded with your own moans.

Another finger joined the first, the slow glide in and out of your depths accompanied by a lust that seemed to resonate through your entire being. Your body responded, a silent plea that spurred his rhythm, the pumping of his fingers sending shockwaves of heat rippling through you.

Satoru's presence in the moment was visceral, his desire manifesting audibly as he pressed his face against your dripping centre. The noises that escaped his lips, a cascade of moans and whimpers, melded with the wet sounds of your shared pleasure. His fingers were adept, plunging into your pussy with a rhythmic thrust that strummed a chord deep within your core. With each push, his fingers curved and curled, a deliberate manipulation that seemed to coax the most exquisite sensations from your body. The taste of you, an intoxicating blend of your essence and arousal, consumed him wholly. His gaze, though hazy, still found you, his pretty eyes locking onto yours with lustful adoration.

You came undone on his fingers with a moan of his name, his mouth was flooded with the taste of you, as his fingers, slick with the evidence of your ecstasy, bore witness to your release. Your nails dragged against his scalp deliciously, twisting his soft hair, inciting a drawn-out groan from deep within him. He kept you riding that high, guiding you through the bliss he had manipulated. Your body was tingling all over, waves of pleasure radiating through you as you gasped. Every drop of cum, every trace of your arousal, became an offering that he ardently consumed, letting no taste of you go unadored.

As he finally withdrew his fingers, the absence was palpable, but his attention didn't waver; Instead, it shifted to a new focus. Your thighs trembled, but his hands became gentle instruments of comfort and affection to soothe you. He massaged and caressed the tender skin, his lips following a path his fingers traced, each kiss a sweet tribute to you. The chorus of murmured gratitude that escaped his lips lingered in the heavy air as you caught your bearings.

“Thank you, thank you… You taste so perfect, so perfect…” Satoru said, with his voice still broken and raspy from his intense moaning. "Thank you," he repeated, the phrase becoming a mantra.

The timbre of his voice was a blend of vulnerability and sincerity, each utterance a token of his appreciation for you. The emotions that had coursed through him, the moans and gasps that had marked his need, seemed to linger in the remnants of his voice.

"Perfect," he continued, his words resonating with a kind of awe that transcended mere description. "Beyond sweet," he concluded.

You looked down upon him kneeling between your thighs, your hands still in his hair, with a mixture of awe and reluctance. Satoru, this enigmatic creature, had been laid bare before you. The dichotomy of his nature, of his humanity and his vampiric instincts, hung in the air like a question unanswered. What had you done to him?

“You can kill me now, and I’ll die human,” he murmured.

Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?

a/n: I guess you could say he's your #1 fang... Buh-dump tch! LOL, I hope you enjoyed. Be grateful I didn't include Twilight refs, bc I was tempted to. Happy Kinktober, lovelies :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

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tenderleavesbob · 2 days

Text

Legend didn't have time to scream a warning.

He didn't have time to do anything at all.

The darknut's mace swung toward Hyrule's vulnerable back. Hyrule was turning but didn't see the threat. He saw something behind him but wouldn't see his murderer.

Hyrule didn't see Warriors, either. Warriors moved, faster than Legend could have imagined, in a flare of golden magic. Just fast enough to move when Legend couldn't, fast enough to knock Hyrule aside and raise his shield.

Warriors wasn't fast enough to get out of the way himself.

The darknut's mace slammed against Warriors's shield. Everything slowed down as if a spell had been cast. Legend watched Warriors's shield shatter, wooden splinters flying as the mace continued to swing. The angle of Warriors's body blocked Legend's vision but Legend saw Warriors curve into the blow, saw Warriors's feet leave the ground as the impact of the mace threw Warriors into the air. Warriors flew several feet backwards, the broken remains of his shield trailing behind him like dull, falling stars, and he hit the dirt with a thump which sounded too heavy for his slender body. Warriors rolled several times before falling still.

"Captain!" Wind screamed, and everything snapped into motion again.

Time roared and threw himself at the darknut, rage twisting his face. Twilight followed, howling like he was in his other form. Hyrule sat on the ground for a moment and he looked pale and small and young before he gathered himself and sprinted toward Warriors where Wind was already kneeling. Four and Sky and Wild hurled toward the other enemies, fighting them back and protecting Time and Twilight as the pair hammered at the darknut.

Legend stared at the bloody wood shards on the ground. He stared at Warriors's still body on the ground.

Dead. Warriors was dead.

Bloody and still just like --

"Legend!" Hyrule shouted. "I need your help!"

Legend shook his head and bolted toward Hyrule, Wind, and Warriors. No. No, Warriors wasn't done yet. Legend could help him.

Legend could save him!

Wind kept trying to touch Warriors and Hyrule kept smacking his hands away as he tried to assess Warriors's wounds. Legend grabbed Wind and pulled him back. Wind immediately responded by elbowing Legend in the gut, but Legend clenched his jaw and held him close in an unwilling hug. It was worth it for Hyrule's relieved smile before he returned his attention to Warriors.

Warriors's blond hair fell over his face, but what Legend could see of his face was pale and still. Blood stained the grass under him.

He's not dead. He's not dead.

"He's alive," Hyrule said. "He's alive."

Wind keened in Legend's arms. Legend stared at Warriors's white face and fought back his own scream.

"We'll save him," Legend rasped. He wasn't sure if he was reassuring Wind or himself. "We'll save him."

It wouldn't be like his uncle. It wouldn't.

"He'll be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

#lu warriors #tl scribbles #lu legend #lu Hyrule #lu wind

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oneshotnewbie · 4 months

Note

Can you do a natasha romanoff one shot, where she has a younger sibling and they get injured on a mission?!

ᕚ---ᕘ

The mission took place in a dilapidated warehouse, the rooms of which are filled with dark shadows and wild flames. Natasha moved silently through the dark corridors, followed by you. Your goal: Recover highly explosive information that has the potential to shake the world if Thanos gets his hands on it.

You both move smoothly and nimbly, each step calculated and careful. The tension was heavy in the air as you delved deeper into the dark interior of the abandoned facility. The faint glow from the Fire of Destruction barely illuminated your path as you moved forward amid the eerie danger. "Y/n, stay close to me. We have to be careful."

You nodded and followed her on tiptoe, feeling your way forward carefully, the tension literally palpable. Suddenly a loud crash breaks the silence. "What was that?" you asked and Natasha abruptly slowed her pace. She raised a hand to make you stop and still, listening into the darkness. An ominous silence follows before armed guards dart out of the darkness. A moment of silence is shattered by an intense battle and chaotic gunfire.

The shots echoed through the halls as you reflexively ducked for cover. You use every skill you learn to resist the guards' attacks. But in the confusion you didn't notice the security guard creeping up from behind. Several shots cut through the air and you are hit. You fell to the ground, a pained scream escaping your lips.

“Y/n!” your sister shouted in horror, reacting immediately, but every step seemed to be in slow motion. She desperately fights her way through the enemies to get to you. When she finally reached you, her heart sank as she saw the blood stains and trickling blood on your clothes. The smell of lead and fear mingled in the thick, dust-filled air.

"N-nat, it hurts so much," you gasped in pain and the redhead held your hand tightly as she tried to stay calm, looking for a way to connect back with the others and get you onto the jet to take you to Bruce at the base. "Stay with me, sladost'. Everything will be fine. I promise."

You struggled to breathe as Natasha tried to stop the bleeding, pressing her fingers hard on two of the wounds. Every second felt like an eternity as she struggled to steady you while the battle raged on around her. Her heart was pounding against her chest, anger at hurting you fueling her.

"Y/n, listen to me. You have to stay strong, understand? As soon as the others are finished with the mission, we'll get you out of here together," she spoke firmly and you tried to smile, but the pain was too much. Your sister pressed harder on the wound to stop the bleeding as she screamed desperately through the comms. "I need help here, y/n is seriously injured!"

"Hold on, we'll be with you in a moment," Captain America replied seconds later, but when she finally heard the sounds of helicopters from outside filtering through the walls of the warehouse, she knew that her time was limited and working against her. Worry about you made her tremble inside as she frantically waited for the other Avengers to arrive.

"You can do this. Just stay with me. Please, stay with me," she pressed harder on the wound, her voice a quiet promise of hope for her beloved sister. You, on the other hand, just nodded weakly as your eyelids grew heavier. Natasha fought back tears. "Stay awake, please."

The quinjet lights burst through the windows and Natasha felt a touch of relief. Their team had taken out every guard and other helicopters and were now arriving to take you away for much-needed medical attention. The mission may be completed and the goal achieved, but the worry for you were stronger than the happiness about the outcome of the mission.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Natasha rushed towards the Avengers base with you in her arms and immediately towards Bruce Banner. You were pale, your breathing shallow, and the blood on your suit was a frightening reminder of the danger you had just escaped. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she hoped, with racing thoughts and a nagging feeling of fear, for the medical help she knew she could find here.

As she ran in, she saw him already standing ready to take over your treatment. Her steps were rushed and her gaze pierced the young man as he ripped you from her arms and placed you carefully on the table.

Her heart ached with worry, but she forced herself to remain calm so as not to scare you further as she felt your half-open eyes on her. Thoughts raced through her mind, the memory of the scream of pain echoing in her mind. She was caught between the need to be strong and the urgent desire to break down and cry. "Nat, you'd best get out now,"

But she didn't listen to Bruce and just stood there, her eyes fixed on you while he took care of you. The hand at her side clenched into a fist, a desperate attempt to contain the emotions raging wildly within her. Fear, guilt and despair fought for dominance in her mind.

As he begins to cut through your clothes, she is dragged outside by Tony and Steve, reality like a leaden cloak in front of her eyes. The world seemed to stand still as she forced herself to breathe deeper and control her emotions. Her thoughts were with you and with all the things she still wanted to say and share with you. The burden of responsibility weighed heavily on her as the eldest sister and protector. Natasha bit her lip to hold back the tears that stung the edges of her eyes.

But it was the powerlessness that tormented her the most. The feeling of not having done enough to protect you. A feeling of loneliness crept into her thoughts as she waited outside the room for Bruce to give her an update on your condition.

The minutes stretched out like hours, and every second without information about your condition felt like a slap in the face. The insecurity was gnawing at her, and she just wanted reassurance that you were on the mend.

Finally, after long hours, he stepped out, his face neutral, but the seriousness in his eyes told her the gravity of your situation. Natasha's heart stopped as she prepared for the worst, ready to accept any news as long as you were okay.

"She is stable. The bullets didn't hit anything vital, but I had to take out her gallbladder. She lost a lot of blood and is unconscious, but she will recover," he said the words that were like a release for Natasha. Relief flooded through her, followed by an endless feeling of gratitude for Bruce, who had fought for your sister's life. "You can go to her if you want."

Her eyes wandered back to the treatment room and she felt like a statue, caught between the desire to be with you and the need to give you rest so you could get back on your feet.

Natasha's heart continued to beat fast, but now it was the hope that you would make it that influenced her racing heartbeat. "Thanks, Bruce. For everything." She said in a whisper and threw herself into his arms before deciding to go to you and hold your hand until you woke up again.

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rise-my-angel · 11 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

9 - Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn discussions of warfare, description of corpses blood and gore, child death, character death, pregnancy, smut, p in v, nondetailed references to forced sex acts, struggles of internalized trauma

Notes: Difficult chapter for everyone but Robbs war campaign just is in a wild state right now in general. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

The wheels were all in motion, and it may be the only thing giving the man confidence. It was a plan they could get on board with, that maybe they didn’t have to take Kings Landing themselves to end the Lannister reign on the realm. Stannis does the hard work, and the Starks play distraction to give them the time and numbers to do so. Greatjon himself saying, “Aye, we’re better at guttin’ Lannisters then we’d be sailing and breaking down walls. We’re the only ones actually fighting this war.”

It certainly felt that way. You wondered if the rebellion against Aerys Targaryean felt as futile in the middle of it. Looking back, everyone can clearly see the sides that were winning and that the side fighting for liberation were indeed the winning one. Yet you could understand that it likely didn’t feel that way. The Lannisters had not one a single battle against Robb Stark, and there hadn’t been any battle waged against any other. The Iron Islanders could hardly be called an army. More akin to raiders then anything, and the only time they fought as one they were crushed easily in a matter of months.

Yet each day that the war continued on felt as if the North was going nowhere. Brynden had put that into better perspective earlier that morning in a small moment of doubt between the three of you. “Have you considered the fact that we haven’t had any major victories in recently is because the Lannisters aren’t brave enough to come and fight us in the field anymore?”

You had added with, “Tywin Lannister has been holed up in Harrenhal as his men do his fighting for him for how long now? How many days have you been out there, in the front by the sides of your men as an equal and Tywin hasn’t?”

“He and his high lords can sit around their table arguing about strategy and feel like they are accomplishing something, but we’re the only ones doing any of the real work. And we wouldn’t be anywhere but dead a long time ago without you.” Even now, this long into war, Robb still voiced his doubts, never got to sure of himself that it couldn’t go wrong.

Sometimes, on the quietest of nights, you both would speak of what happens when this war is over, what then? So much of your life now, your lives together, had been about war but the truth was it wasn’t fair to ask to much of ‘what then’. The what then of war, was making sure you win because the alternative was death.

Neither you or Robb had asked for this, but the responsibility fell onto your shoulders and if neither of you did it, who would? You had to trudge through the mud, feeling like each day without a win was a loss, because otherwise you have no other choice but to lose absolutely everything.

When you begun to arrive back at the camp, something was wrong. Something was quite wrong, the men were in a state and anger was ripe. A group of men approached at haste both looked to the other with a weary gaze. “Your grace,”

Robb asking what happened as you both climbed down and in an instant you realized that it was going to be something with quite the chain reaction. “The Kingslayer, he escaped in the night.”

The seething silent rage in his eyes was blazing, “How?” They glanced at one another and he raised his voice to repeat himself. They told of the events, of Jaime Lannister bashing the head in of Ser Alton to grab Torrhen Karstark’s attention, and how he strangled Torrhen himself and ran off into the night. That wasn’t what they were speaking of though. Speaking of how he was found, dragged back and yet he still escaped once more. But escaped wasn’t really the right word. He didn’t escape the second time on his own. No, it was far worse then that.

Robb looked to you and found the same feeling within you as well, this only could have happened because you both were gone. Those on the war council had agreed it was the smartest plan to have both of you to confront Stannis Baratheon, and yet one person had used that absence. Robb’s shoulders were tense as his hands flexed in a restraining temper.

It had been an intimidating sight to see apparently, the sheer anger in the King and Queen’s eyes as they moved together in furious haste though the camp amongst the growing contempt the events had caused. One that made quite a number of people back away for fear of crossing your paths. Multiple men were guarding outside the tent and opened it for the both of you where more men stood guard inside, as well as a more composed Roose Bolton, and a Rickard Karstark that you knew had full reasons to be as angry as the pair of you were.

Catelyn sat with a look in her eye, mixing a shame with worry as she looked to her son. Robb’s voice was quiet and even but none were fooled at what lay beneath. “Why?”

It was likely there was a bit of work on her end to keep any tears back at what she knew was coming, “For the girls.”

“You betrayed me.” She tried pleading to him, only getting as far as is name until he raise his voice to her. “No. You knew I would not allow it, and you did it anyways.”

Looking up you glanced to Karstark, a quiet understanding of the pained gaze in your eye behind an almost shaking fury to keep yourself tempered. You and Robb had seen Harrion Karstark die on the battlefield and now he’s lost another son and watched Catelyn send his murderer away. Trying to explain herself you found it hard to rationalize it when you knew too well what this meant.

“Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell, Sansa and Arya are captives in King’s Landing. I have five children and only one of them is free.” And somehow that gave her the right, you thought exasperated.

Karstark for what you knew a night ago would have been unbridled rage, spoke with a quiet agony as Catelyn felt the guilt compound onto her. “I lost one son fighting by your son’s side, I lost another to the Kingslayer. Strangled by a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners? I would carve out my heart and offer it to the father it he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell.”

Catelyn tried to keep her composure, rationalize it, “I grieve for your sons, my Lord-”

You were the one who cut her off. “These men don’t need your grief, they needed justice. And they can’t do that now can they?” What was the point of how hard Robb worked to keep his men running in order, if everyone did what they considered to be fair. It couldn’t be fair, war wasn’t.

“Returning Jaime Lannister might be the only way to buy life for my daughters.” Your eyes narrowed, that didn’t sound like her voice coming out of her and it dawned on you exactly who did. A chill running through you, just what had he been offered this time? How on earth could she even consider his words as any truth?

Your voice in a breathless disbelief that she would ever trust him. You had looked him in the eye with the only trust you and Ned Stark had left, and that trust led you both to knives at your throats and a sword through her own husbands neck. “Petyr Baelish has played you for a fool.”

Robb stared his mother down, his own voice quiet and he played the lecturer and her the one in need of scold. “You realize what it is you’ve done? You’ve weakened our position, you’ve brought discord into our camp. And you did it all behind my back.”

Looking to the men, he gave a final order, ignoring her plea of his name to listen. He had enough of that for one day. “Make sure she’s guarded day and night.” Turning with you he looked to Roose Bolton, “How many men did we send in pursuit of the Kingslayer?”

“Fourty, your grace.”

“Send another fourty. With our fastest horses.” Without another word to his mother, Robb led you outside, making your way through the camp. “He betrayed you, he betrayed my father and now she let him do it again.”

Your voice hissing in an urgency. “If they don’t find Jaime by nightfall, we have to be gone. The Lannisters would have planned this, we can’t risk any chance of them getting word of where we are.”

Robb nodded, “Start getting them ready, we leave as soon as it gets dark. Push onto them and we’ll get behind by the time Edmure draws them out.”

You paused before walking away, looking at him like he was being weighed down by every force and from each side someone or something threw his work right back in his face. An intensity like he couldn’t stop finding new sides to be betrayed from. “Robb,”

His brows narrowed as he looked to you, only the short few steps you took did his eyes wash over him a softer need. Cupping both sides of his face as he drew you in by the waist. His kiss was harsh, but you could feel it in the way he touched you how swirling his head was. Keeping your lips to his for a beat longer then intended, he pulled away pressing a final one to your forehead. Soft only for his ears did you run your hand over his cheek, “I love you.”

Running his thumb over your waist as Robb resisted the urge to pull you right back into him. “And I love you.” Giving you a playful nudge backwards, “Now off with you.”

He watched you walk away, his family tearing itself apart as it all kept resting on his shoulders but the only thing that was keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground anymore was you. Robb couldn’t even be sure if he’d see his siblings again, but then he could look at you and his heart felt full at how much he needed you to breathe.

You believed in him, supported his decisions and had never even argued. Early on he would wonder if you were keeping it to yourself for his sake, but the more he got into your mind the more he just found someone who matched him. Saw the war and his people as he did, and refused to let anyone think you were not right beside him.

Ending the war wasn’t going to be easy, but the more time he spent with you, these past few months especially, the more Robb yearned to bring you home to Winterfell. Watch you spent the first snows of winter swollen with his child and know you can raise them safe and free there. Your nights deserved to be spent in his real bed, being treated like a real Queen not the one you had to be with a sword in your hand.

Robb wished they didn’t, but the red woman’s words had haunted him. So freely speaking of you with his children, the dream you told him that made him take you as many times as you could stand it. His own mother had betrayed him, but at least Robb had you, and a dream of a future where he could be a proper father to those children you dreamed of.

The atmosphere of the camp was miserable to be in, everyone held their own opinion about what happened and none of them wanted to voice it as you passed by in risk of angering their leaders more then they already had been.

What were you to focus on, what were you to prioritize at this point? One of your dearest friends betrayed you, your husbands mother betrayed you, and your own father readied to set sail to King’s Landing in a matter only of days now. You could see his plan perfectly, as well as the one Robb has put into play. Only so much of them you could even control, but as you slammed down a bag over your shoulder with a huff and a nod to the squire passed onto you came to one thought.

If you left in a few hours, there might not be a chance to do so for who knows how long. You had to take the chance now and yet you had no idea what made the thought consume you. Your eyes scouring the camp and found no trace of anyone who would take much notice.

Your feet walked for you, before you mind had a chance and by the time you caught up to the idea you were already pulling back the entrance to the tent in question. “Your grace. Do you require my attention for something?”

As you stared at the man, you swallowed heavily. Eyes ready to sting like it was a mistake to do this, but you nodded. Grey Wind sitting outside the tent dutifully as you made your way inside.

The sky had fallen into a golden colour as you stepped outside finally. The beauty of the light made your eyes sting, and biting your tongue to keep your face steady. However your lungs found it hard to breathe, and your heart pounded harder trying to compensate. A dread you didn’t fully understand overtaking you as you felt the people around you slow down.

Your breathing the only thing you could hear and little in front of you that could be seen, not knowing if the world spun or if it was you. You supposed it was bound to be your turn, everyone seemed to find something to throw onto Robb lately and yet you didn’t think you had anything to add to it until now.

Unsure if you had been standing there a while until you were nudged over by Grey Wind. A whining sound leaving him as he nudged your torso before looking up at you. Tall enough even on two feet that you barley had to raise your arms to run your fingers through his fur. He seemed insistent about something as he nudged you again before you shook out head out of its spin. Narrowing your eyes at the direwolf, “What’s gotten into you, huh?” Whined again as you ran a hand over his ears. “Come, considering I’ve heard to screams to for a Lannister head I assume we’re heading out soon.”

Coming up on the bare bones of the war council’s tent, Robb was sat with Roose Bolton. His blue eyes looking up at you narrowed. You clearly didn’t realize your eyes still tinged with red and a crestfallen expression before you stepped inside. You could guess what this was about. “Still no word?”

Robb watched you still, but you only stepped closer to him on both feet and keeping your attention on the other man. “We’ve sent a dozen ravens. None have returned.”

Arms crossing over your chest you tilted your head with a heavy breath. “There’s no way he thinks we don’t already know, which means he’s trying to hide something.”

Robb finally peeled his eyes from you back to the issue at hand, as Roose nodded in agreement. “There’s an easy way to find that out. My bastard is only a few days from Winterfell, once he captures the castle-”

“Theon has my brothers. If we storm the castle-”

You’re glad Roose seemed to have some confidence, beacuse there was little to be found in either of you. “He wouldn’t dare hurt the boys. They’re his only hope of escaping the North with his head.”

Robb looked up to you, a far away look in your own eye trying to figure out what ever did he think he was going to accomplish with this? What could Balon Greyjoy possibly have said to him that was more important then the over half his life spent with Eddard Stark? Robb’s voice was low as he spoke. “Send word to your son. Any Ironborn who surrender will be allowed to return safely to their homes.”

Raising your eyebrows, you caught on easily to the path behind this thoughts. Bolton looked unconvinced, “A touch of mercy is a virtue, your grace. Too much...”

“Every ironborn with the exception of Theon Greyjoy. He betrayed our cause, he betrayed me and we will hunt him down no matter where he runs.” You didn’t know if your hand was shaking as it rose to run over Robb’s shoulder blade, but it took a lot of focus to pretend like it wasn’t regardless.

Roose nodded as you added, “Ironborn won’t stay locked to the land for long before they need any excuse to leave. They took Winterfell because it was open and Theon wanted it, not because they have any use in staying there. They get an easy offer of life, and they’ll turn on him the minute they hear it.”

“I’ll send word right away.”

Once alone with him, you knew you should tell him, you knew it was important to say it but for once you found yourself unable to deliver the final blow. As he raised his hand to grasp yours, he pulled you down onto his lap. Your hands finding his neck to rest around and him your waist as he leaned in for a kiss. “I want you to keep an eye on the Karstarks.” Meeting his eyes as you pulled back he squeezed your waist tightly, keeping himself rooted in clarity through you. “They’re grieving and angry, and if they take this too personally I can’t have that kind of dissension in my ranks. You have the best eye for that, and I need someone I can trust who won’t mince words.”

Nodding, you could see the struggle in his eyes like the only one he thought he could keep every faith in was you. He had so much on his shoulders from what felt like every corner of the realm and the second something goes wrong out of his control, it all falls to his blame. Stannis didn’t need to take Kings Landing just to turn the tides on this war, he needed to take the Iron Throne if just to give Robb a second to breathe for once.

You opened your mouth to speak, but yet only a sigh came out as you ran your fingers through his hair for a moment. “Most of the first troops are ready to head out, if I leave with them now I can have the scouts up by tomorrow night and we should be hitting them just as Edmure has the Mountains garrison crossed over.”

Robb shook his head, standing you both up, “I’m not sending you alone. Have Olyvar ready my horse, I’ll meet you there before the hour’s up.”

Riding through the night was easy, it was quiet and the only sounds hitting you being the chattering of night above and the trotting of hooves below. Not often anymore did it give you the chance to retreat so much into your mind, but you and Robb both needed that quiet together.

You couldn’t imagine him as such, Theon. Dressed in garb like the Ironborn and spouting their words like he’d always lived by them. You’d grown alongside him watching the surly teenager grow into a man and you couldn’t figure out where that man had went, or if he was never there in the first place. Had he hated the Starks the whole time?

It was the conversation you both had right as you had set out for war, not even crossing past the borders of the North when he brought it up. That Catelyn shouldn’t be treating you like you were not her family, only to bring up your real one. What reasons though, did you have to suspect that he meant it in the manner for himself?

You both had a unique perspective to the other, spent much time in the North without being one in your blood, and both of you had strained, or in Theon’s case non existent, relationships with difficult fathers who never treated you like one. Both had followed Ned Stark and understood the world from his perspective and worked by his side often on the same things.

He knew that you had chosen to go to Robb instead of your father and he tried to broach why you’d do it, maybe shutting down that conversation was a mistake. You knew what being Stannis’s daughter meant, and had you gone to him in the first place you knew what they would make you. Maybe to Theon, it seemed ludicrous to refuse the offer of being a Princess.

If he was Balons last living son, that would in their independence, make him a Prince. Was he really asking you why you would choose against a similar choice because he was already thinking that far beyond? Why swear himself so openly to another King, to someone like a brother to him if he was already considering this new path? The only answers you could come up with, were simply more questions.

What would he understand of such conflict? He wasn’t stuck between two choices from the start, there was nothing from Balon until Theon went to him. He brought the conflict on himself where you had no say in the position. The moment you were thrown in that cell, there was a choice you had to make and between life and death, and when life was chosen you had decide what the family that needed you the most was.

Theon made the wrong choice, and he chose the people that hadn’t known anything about him for so long he returned essentially a stranger. If he were smart, he would surrender with the safety of the boys and accept the justice of his sins. If he were smart.

“You’re going to scare it off.”

The sounds of the flowing water streaming down the river was as loud in your head as it was the memory which followed. It was your last visit to Winterfell before Jon Arryn’s death, over two years ago now but it felt far longer. A life that seemed now to never exist.

You and Theon were crouched down, leaning slightly over a thick tree log that had sat untouched by the riverside. Both with bows in your hand, you had been out there for a number of hours and there was no sign of stopping until he relented.

Close enough that he could whisper in your ear Theon leaned over, “You’re going to scare if off.” Not quite raising your bow, you moved it into position as you eyed the deer. “It’s way too far, you’re not going to nail it and then it’ll take what? Another two hours for you to get a better shot?”

Glaring to the side at his confident face you resisted the urge to shove him over. “I’m not going to miss.”

Raising his eyebrows in a playful jest, he shrugged. Watching you move your arms into position before reaching over to nudge your wrist up slightly. You whipped around to face him, dropping it entirely as you glared at him with a whisper, “I don’t need your help.”

“You’re too high, you’ll barley graze it’s head.”

It had been a number of hours now, the pair of you finding things to shoot at in increasing challenge before he came up with nailing a deer in the eye from such a distance away. Getting on the other’s nerves each time one of you did better then the other, until now as the sun set you both knew he was picking at your stubbornness on purpose. “Going to graze an arrow past your head if you don’t shut up, Greyjoy.”

He turned slightly, his back more resting against the log as you knelt perched forward still. “Knowing you’re aim, you’d have been aiming for my face and missed.” Ignoring him with narrowed eyes forward, you kept your hold on the bow light as you watched the deer kneel its head down to eat. “You can always just admit defeat, there’s no shame in it. Besides the mocking I’ll do ‘till your end of days.”

“And if I hit it?” You turned your head to glance at him with an amused smirk. “What do I get?”

Theon took full advantage of how quiet you were trying to be, knowing any other time you’d shove him right into the lake next to you. “Could think of a few things, pretty girl like you.” Riling you up more he pressed on with a grin you knew was smug as you were too concentrated to argue back, “Find a way to lighten up that attitude of yours real easy. I’ve never seen you with a guy, you’re probably wound up way too tight it’d be easy to get you to relax-”

In an instant, you raised up, drawing your arm back before releasing a shot. Landing it right on target with ease. Theon’s head whipping over to look with a disbelieving, “Shit,” You stood up before him, holding a hand out to yank him up as well as he looked a mix of impressed and shamed for being bested. “I was gonna get you to do all my inventory count.”

Finally, you let out a loud breath of a laugh as you peeled off your gloves finally with your teeth before shoving them in a pocket. “I thought of what my prize is too.” Nodding to the deer with a smirk, “You get to drag that thing back, yourself.”

“Since when did your aim get so damn good, Baratheon?”

You looked back as you walked away, “Maybe you’re just getting worse at it, ever consider that?”

By the time Theon had gotten back, it was obvious he and the river had a bit of an incident trying to get the deer across it, and failed. You and Jon had been perched just outside the walls watching Bran run around with Rickon. The loud slap as he tossed the furs around his shoulder at you was nothing but disappointing to him as it came nowhere near hitting you as he meant.

His face falling flat as the pair of you had a good laugh over it, until that was when Jon turned on you, grabbed you by the arms, holding you back against him as Theon proceeded to dump the contents of his skin of water all over from the top of your head. Lord Stark had come out at that point, seemingly unsure if he should laugh or scold you three for being more childish then the actual children you and Jon had been out there to watch.

Sitting around one of the small fires as you stopped for that night some days later, by morning you’d push onto Harrenhal, and you were far away enough that the men could catch their breathe first. Such days felt so long passed that you could see a different person entirely in them. You laughed, and joked, and still knew how to have fun and now everyday was a crushing pressure that could sent you deep into the earth should you let it.

Coming into your vision were a pair of feet before a body sat down next to you with a groan. “When’s the last time you got any sleep?” Glancing up to see Brynden Tully, you just shrugged looking back into the flames. “Neither of you are very good at that lately, it seems.�� Following his eyeline to Robb who was just as tired yet distracted as you were.

“Hard to sleep when your busy chasing ghosts nowadays.” His twisted face seemed to lighten as he relented. The pair of you in quiet for a moment before you felt a twist in your stomach that spilled into your veins, leaving you more on edge as it flowed through you. “The longer the Lannisters hide from us, the more antsy the men are going to get.”

“We’re at war, your grace.” He gestured to the lot of them all around with a casual degree, “They’re going to be antsy until their back at home in their beds or dead in their graves.”

Your forearms rested on your knees as you leaned forward, just how long would either of those be at this point. How much longer could the men hold out on a war that your opponent refuses to fight. “Everything we’ve done, and I know they all look to us, to Robb, like it’s our fault we’re here. They feel like we’re losing, and I don’t know how to change that.”

Brynden leaned in to match your posture, “You can’t.” Glancing up with a raised eyebrow to him. “Most of these men, they aren’t leaders. Their soldiers. They don’t care if we’re winning the war, they want to feel it.” Pointing to Robb your felt that twist in your stomach sting more. “They’ll all blame the King because the Lannisters aren’t here to take their anger out on, but the smart ones know they’re nothing without him.”

Robb had a good mind for warfare, a great one in fact. But the fact of the matter is that war isn’t just bloodshed and battles, it’s a game of strategy and the side that has no patience is the side that starts to loose. He hadn’t lost his patience, but then you saw those like the Karstarks who didn’t know what to do with themselves if they weren’t taking their grief out on the enemy.

“And the ones who don’t figure that out?”

With a darker, partially far away look as you both met eyes, there was a mutual feeling that came to a similar conclusion. You knew it, he knew it, and Robb knew it but what were you trying to do if he sacrificed justice for morale? What were you fighting for if he didn’t lead his men with the values that shape a good man? And which of the discontent ones would be the first to break.

A hand slapped around your shoulder as another large figure sat beside you pulling you more into her side. Bless Maege for not having any issue with treating you with such a casualness when you were deep inside your own head. “I mean no disrespect, your grace, but you look like shit.”

Face twisting into a bemused grimace as you nodded, “Don’t know how I could possible take that as insult.” Two skins were in her hands, as she nodded to the other man with a look almost saying to leave if you weren’t mistaken. Brynden took no offence, as he unbeknownst to you, recognized the look on her face as one he’d seen many times before ‘leave the women to talk’.

Handing you one, Maege nudged “Have a drink,”

If anything was on your side it was the ease in which you just shook your head without a suspicious sort of pause. “Don’t really think that’s going to help at this point.”

Shoving it in your hands regardless, Maege bit open the cap of her own. “It’s not supposed to help, it’s supposed to trick you into thinking it’ll make you feel better when all you do is feel worse. Besides, yours is full of water, don’t worry.”

Opening it slowly, you peered inside and when finding no scent you took a good sip, the water feeling soothing as it ran gently down your throat. The unsaid words along them having burned you up on the inside for almost two days now. “Been a real shit few days, hasn’t it?”

Maege laughed, giving you a pat on the back as she did so. “Hasn’t been the best, but none of these fuckers have a clue what leading an army is like. They wanna kill something, good for them, that’s not gonna change even if we do get a fight. They’ll be hot for a night or two and then get that same itch, as long as we’re out here.”

Shrugging one shoulder you glanced to her, “What about you?”

Her expression was light, looking around the camp. “Doesn’t matter how I feel. We chose him to lead us, we chose you to lead us and my opinion ends there. King in the North says we jump into a fight, we fight. He says we stand back and draw them out quiet, then we do that.”

Pointing to the Karstarks she leaned into your side a tad quieter, “Either they smarten up, or they don’t but none of this shit is up to them. What the King does isn’t up for debate.”

You bit your tongue, taking another sip after to soothe the sharpness in your own mouth now. “No, it’s not. At least with what they’re arguing about. I’m pissed, furious at what she did but it’s not her fault that Torrhen was killed by the Kingslayer and I don’t think he has any clue how this is all making him look.”

Maege shrugged, “Aye. I can sympathize with what she did, really, and I know you can too. We’re mothers afterall, but that also means you and I know it’s not such an open and shut crime.”

It took you a moment, nodding absently before you felt a shiver run down your spine. Your hands tensed as they sat in front of you as your eyes flickered just enough to the side to see her leaning towards you. “I’ve had five of my own, your grace. I know what that expression you’ve been walking around with is saying. Or not saying.” Nodding subtlety to Robb she asked, “He doesn’t know?”

Your head hung down, a wave of strong crushing guilt slamming you in your heart all at once as it biled up towards your throat. You shook your head no, and Maege in a quiet tone, one softer and fair more consoling asked why.

You shrugged as a fake laugh made it’s way to your face. “Look around you, look what he’s been dealing with? Everyone’s fucked him over one way or another, he’s carrying this war all on his own and now his own mother’s betrayed him. You think he needs me adding that onto his shoulders?”

Her voice was still quiet but strict, her words slow and separate like enunciating a lecture to that of a child. “You are not a burden to that man. You wanna know what we all see?”

When you didn’t answer, she took it as a yes anyways. “He’s so in love with you it’s almost disgusting if it weren’t also so fucking endearing.” The taken back look on your face must have been something because she laughed heartily at however you just reacted. “He doesn’t just call you his Queen, he treats you like one. Looking for any excuse to have a hand on you in any way, kiss you just out in the open like he doesn’t care. Probably because he doesn’t.”

You didn’t have the bravery to look up at him, not just yet but she wasn’t done, “And it’s not just him. You might be the most tense, on edge person in this whole army but the second you look at him, you’re like a puppy.”

Flickering up to quickly glance, you felt your heart sink at the sight of him standing tall and powerful like he was. “Ah, see? That look there, the one on your face right now.”

Flattening it out quickly, you at up and took another drink, wiping the droplets off with the back of your hand. “We’re at war, we’re out in the middle of the West fighting the Lannisters and he needs a firm hand at his side not another thing to worry about.”

Maege looked at you for a good long while. Leaning forward, she took a sip of her own before inhaling deeply. “Do you know why the Mormonts have been so loyal the Starks as long as we have?”

Raising your eyebrow you dryly responded, “Because the alternative is breaking your oath?”

Smiling to herself, you looked up as she was almost lost in her own memory. “The King’s protective of you a lot, he lets it sit right on his face and in his actions how protective he is. All them Starks are really, real pack animals that defend their own. We’re not to different to that. We’d do anything to keep our own safe and damned what comes in the way of that we find a way to deal with it.”

Her eyes glancing to where you both knew Lady Catelyn was, “Even if protecting his own means going against others to do it. He’s not just pissed at what she did, he’s lost too much already and risking our position? Causing this shit in the camp? That just puts you in danger, and you’re the one thing the King has left and he’s desperate to protect it. You’re not a burden, your grace, you’re keeping a man together who think’s hes got nothing left.”

“Sounds like you know what it’s like.”

She shrugged, leaning back as the stress in your shoulders lightened a bit. “Sort of, I know what it’s like to have your family betrayed by one of your own.” Your eyes squinted as you thought to those early days in King’s Landing, “You know about my nephew? Jorah?”

“I know he ran off to Essos, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Her face twisting for a moment as she clearly recalled it. “It was all before you were born, but basically Jorah found himself a wife none of us liked, then when she got too expensive for him he racked himself up in serious debt. So how does he pay it back?” She huffed a bitter laugh. “Of all the crimes he could have committed he starts to trade slaves. Nothing gets him the money to pay off like the lives of innocent human beings, right?”

Gesturing lightly to Robb she continued, “It was Ned Stark who ordered it. Called him a traitor for committing one of the more reprehensible crimes the North ever outlawed, and sentenced him to death. No trial, no question, just called for his execution. You know what we did?”

She looked to her King once more, “We accepted it. Sure it hurt to hear, but not for a second did any of us stand there and argue with him over it. He disgraced himself and what else was there to do but trust in Ned Stark’s judgment? Didn’t make it easier, but we knew losing out shit would only make it worse.”

You looked up to the Karstarks before asking, “What did everyone else think, your men?”

“It wasn’t their business. It’s our family and it wasn’t our place to argue with Stark over it, and so it sure as hell wasn’t anyone elses business how we handled it. Honestly, I think if Jorah just faced his sentence like man maybe it wouldn’t have taken us so long to get our shit together again. Instead he ran off like a coward and now we all have to live with the fact that to everyone else it looked like we just let him get away.” Her eyes squinted as she shook her head to herself.

Being blamed for a crime you had no control over by a member of your own family, you looked up to Robb and yes, you thought. You do get why she hasn’t changed her opinion of it at all. “How’d you deal with it? At the time I mean, after he fled.”

Whistling in dismay she took a drink. “My brother always said I was the one with the temper, but let me tell you I’ve never seen that old fucker more angry then the day he found out Jorah fled to Essos. Fuck I had to be the one to give him the news, went all the way up North just to tell him what I knew would make him lose it.”

Your eyes narrowed in question, “Up North?” Considering where Bear Island was in your memory you came up short as to where this all would’ve taken place.

“Brother’s up at the wall. He gave up his seat and everything to join them and give his boy his chance as Lord, so you can image how mad the was to learn his son threw away everything he passed to him personally.” Given the temper you’d seen on Maege, you could only dream of what those day’s looked like. “It gets easier, you get used to the bad shit and you move on. You and him will move on from it as well.” Nodding to Robb.

For a minute or so you were quiet, a tiny voice telling you to ask and you found yourself vulnerable enough to let it overtake your logic of silence. “How’s he doing? Your brother?”

She smiled, a real smile. “That old bear’s Lord Commander now. So safe to say he’s doing well for himself. We kept in touch in the first few months of this shit, told him what’s happening and to pass that all onto the King’s brother.”

There was nothing to press on there, her brother was Lord Commander and so he passed details of what happened over to Jon. But as you looked up at Robb, part of you thought to yourself that he shouldn’t have to only have you to trust. His best friend, his brother, he should've had the chance to be here too.

It’s not fair Robb only has you now. The other man who was at his side betrayed him and it wasn’t fair because the one person who you know would stand by him better then you ever could was as far way as the brothers could be from the other.

“He has Jorah’s sword now.” You whipper your head to look at her totally confused as she nodded to Robb. “His brother. That’s why I was up there in the first place, Jorah had the decency to leave behind the family sword. Fancy thing, Valyrian steel. Longclaw we call it, been in the Mormont’s family for five centuries and for over twenty years it just sat at the wall mocking my brother.”

“But, then this dark haired Snow comes along and for the first time that fucker finally had a real emotion for once. Had the bear head hilt remade and everything. Carved it to look like one of those direwolves and gave it to Ned’s own boy. Funny how all this shit works out.”

You paused as you looked to the ground, like you could see the hilt in your mind, like somewhere in the mess of dreams that kept you lost at night, you’d seen a sword, the hilt with a white wolf and red eyes and suddenly for the first time in a long time, you almost lost yourself in thinking of how much you missed him. Only broken by Maege before it got too far.

“Anyways, you got me way off track, I came over here to tell you, to do him a favour and be the one scrap of good news that he hasn’t had in weeks.”

Not giving you a second to think, she stood up and nudged you away from her direction as you paused to turn around with a bewildered but amused look, “I’m sorry Mormont, did you just shove your Queen?”

“Please, the King’s about to do a hell of a lot more then just that in a few minutes.”

You’d feel flustered, but the closer you got and the louder the voices became from Robb and Roose, you lost any single sense of that courage. It all ran right out the window, “We should set the siege lines a thousand yards from Harrenhal.”

What were you supposed to do, come to him and distract from a tactical move he’d been planning in depth and so close to it? You weren’t beside him to distract him, you needed to be his support because none else would. Stepping to them you were noticeably distant, something almost high strung about you that set the air around you on edge.

“They won’t be able to hold a siege, not in a ruin like that. If the Mountain’s still garrisoned there, he doesn’t have enough fortification to withstand a siege.” Robb eyed you, something far away in his own gaze that you tried very hard to ignore.

His own voice was rough, like the stress was eating away at him on the inside. “The Lannisters have been running from us since Oxcross, the only way we get them to fight is to push them into one and they can’t do that in a castle that’s barley standing.”

Roose glancing to the pair of you, almost as if he hesitated to voice his thought before giving up and speaking anyways. “The men need a fight.”

Your eyes were sharp as they cut to him, “And they’ll get one when the Lannisters finally decide to give us one.”

What a fight it wouldn’t be. The sun shining over the forever smouldering castle ruins, there was nothing of Lannisters left in there, nothing behind but your own dead. The lot of you arriving in, something felt noticeably wrong. Dead Northmen and yet no single sign of the enemy and not even an inkling that they had drawn forward where Edmure was to lure them in. No, it was like they had just packed up and left.

Turning in place, the sights were ghastly. Blood of the dead, and the burning and rot of those there much longer, ones that weren’t soldiers or any kind but people. Your heart raced and your stomach twisted as you walked towards a pile of men slaughtered like sheep. Had this truly been the first time you’d faced this in months? Had it always looked this morose or were you just naive enough to think a bloodbath would be kinder then this when it wasn’t done by you.

Your gloves sticky as you peeled back the sigil sewn into the men, the flies buzzing around them spoke of a fight that took place too long ago to add up, how long had they been gone? An eagle spread over what looked like a dark field on their persons had you narrow your eyes.

Standing up, you could hear Lord Karstark in the background. “They rot in the ground while their killer runs free?”

You eyed the bodies burned and hanged so black they were like charcoal, the clothes of commoners still hanging off their remains so far burned there was nothing like flesh and meat for the insects to bite into. “The Kingslayer won’t remain free for long. My best hunters are after him.”

Catelyn from where she stood identified what you had as well, “My fathers bannermen.”

Your eyes shifted to Brynden, a tilt of your head in a dark curiosity that had him eyeing the dead with his own judgments in silence. You had been chasing ghosts, but this was not the nothing that was normally left behind for you. This was the remains of a battle you’d missed that had no place in Robb’s strategy.

Turning to his men, Robb indicated towards his mother. “Find her a chamber that will serve as a cell.”

Your eyes drifted before he could catch yours, making your way to a number Umbers clearing out a space below those hanging. “Let me.” Men nodding, as you climbed up multiple crates stacked, balancing carefully to cut down the bodies as they dropped to the ground with little resistance from the rope.

Your hands on your hips as you glanced to the others. “Start bringing down the rest of them I’m not leaving them all to hang for their loved ones to find.”

From what you could see there were at least twenty old ones, and maybe eleven more fresh that still held a burning scent if you got too close. You had been cutting down another pair, some smaller then the rest as your stomach begged you pay no mind to the size. The faces as unrecognizable as the anxiety in your stomach.

Others had begun to care for the dead soldiers around the court as some had names to identify, others had to be made note of their sigil and passed on. Blood weighed heavily in your nose and thick on your tongue, no solace was found in such a task but at least you’d find some use. It was some time later when Roose Bolton came to your side, “Your grace.” Nodding to him you both looked to the scene for a moment, a conclusion that seemed to come to his as well and no doubt had hit Robb.

“We’re waiting on word from Riverrun and Kings Landing.” You nodded, carefully trying to pull the leather from your hands without completely soaking the skin underneath. The attempt was fruitless.

Your voice was tight and rigid as you spoke. “The men you have, looking for the Kingslayer.” You ran your teeth over your tongue in a sting before you shook off the twisting and churning in your stomach. “You trust their loyalty as much as their skill?”

A curious look in his eye, “I do.”

“Good. Because if they catch him, he’ll offer whatever he can to walk free and neither me nor the King have the time for that.” You watched the half smile on his face as his eyes did not match the motion.

His chuckle didn’t either. “I assure you, your grace they have their orders and they’ll do whatever they can to follow them. They know the punishment for disobeying a command.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, he seemed off to you, but it was difficult to place where that was coming from. A suspicion ran through you like something you hadn’t pinned was running through your own mind. “If I may say, your grace. It seems like you’re more on edge then usual.”

Your look was harsh as it was blank as your arms crossed your chest. “I think all of us are more then agitated at this point. Some more then others.”

Whatever it was you were trying to find in the other just wouldn’t come out, but you had no question that there was something he wasn’t saying just as you were. Only the thing you weren’t saying couldn’t have possibly lived in the same area as what he could be ruminating on.

The ruins of Harrenhal were not what you had imagined. A great castle encased by a never ending smoulder that left it haunting and cursed with the dead burned alive inside. Only as you walked through the echoing halls, even as the darkness swooped over the sky, you felt nothing of it. Standing at it’s best, you could envision a mighty fortress. A hundred thousand men marching on these walls and a hundred thousand men would be repelled, now it was a place fought over to be ignored.

On a ledge overlooking one of the courtyards, the space ran as a bridge between once massive structures with carved arches in acting like windows. One foot resting up on the incline as you leaned back against the stone the other foot planted firmly on the ground as you looked high to the night.

Stars were bright, shining and the moon not yet full but bright as ever. No distracting red to shine with an ominous glow, no clouds looming over to pour down over the blood soaked grounds, just the yell of men below and the cawing of birds in the night above.

Maybe you could find the strength to prey to the gods, ask them to spare your sins and turn you into a bird and find a place to live out in painless quiet. You’ve heard Highgarden is beautiful in the summer.

Looking over the raven scroll once more you wanted to scrunch it up and toss it to the wind. Tywin Lannister was now stationed in Kings Landing as proper Hand of the King, the city still stands and Stannis Baratheons fleet suffered a great loss. Just as they were minutes from breaching the gates, coming up behind them in a last minute attempt were Tywins forces backed by that of the remaining Tyrells. Pushing what was left back to the sea.

A sea that burned, the hellscape this very castle is spoken so commonly of was actually that of the Blackwater Bay. Tyrion Lannister had set the water on fire, or more accurately, wildfire. A substance you heard much about, yet never had seen of your own eyes. Bright and green that burned so hot it could not be even stood next to without feeling it’s effects.

Created by the Targaryeans as the last of their dragons died to keep their fire and blood as true words to oppress with. The absence of any life in the West made sense now, they had moved to push on King’s Landing, because they were not drawn in on the other side.

The Riverlands did not draw the Mountain and his troops out, instead they were pushed back enough to give them all time to turn around and make a rescue of their captiol. Many thousands had died in the firestorm of the sea, and no words except that of Stannis himself spoke of any life. None other you knew from your life on Dragonstone had any mention and perhaps you didn’t have the right to it.

That wasn’t the only news though. No it continued to get worse. Roose Bolton’s bastard had gotten to Winterfell and there was nothing left. Just as your own troops had found. A torched castle with scours of a massacre left behind. Bran and Rickon weren’t found, and word from the men there seemed to speculate they were dead.

You could dream, but there were no demands, no rumour of them as a hostage and nothing of the Ironborn were that of kidnappers. Bran was around Shireen’s age, he didn’t even have the chance of life that could’ve meant much. Rickon was six, how much of this war did he even truly understand? No words of their wolves sighted either.

Six Stark children, and only four of them remained, as six direwolves and perhaps only three remained as well. As if he could hear you think, Grey Wind approached you with a nudge to your abdomen. He huffed resting his head there satisfied when you rested a hand over his head scratching his ears. You’d seen this beast rip the hearts of men from their still beating chests and bear battle with his master stained with blood. Yet now he lay across you, no more then a large dog.

The world saw fit to make the wolves stand alone in this world. But Stags? How long had they even lasted? Two were dead, and the third stands against the forth. Somewhere across King’s Landing you had known of Robert’s bastards and yet they were all as alone as the last of you.

Only, as Grey Wind looked up at you, your stomach twisted and suddenly were filled with the blackness of lightheaded sensations. Moving to pull your leg over the bend, you wavered as you stood up. One hand pressing against the stone wall as your eyes closed and a low rumble came from the large direwolf next to you. Nipping at the edge of your shirt he pulled you away from the window as you opened your eyes in shock. “Alright, alright.”

Looking at the dark eyes staring up at you, you ran a hand over his face. Some comfort finding itself nestling in the pit of your stomach as you did so. Nodding your head at him to the side, he turned on a dime and walked you through the halls of ruin.

Coming into the door, you quietly shut it behind you as Grey Wind slipped in. Robb sat on the edge of a bed, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Your heart yearning for the possibility of healing his with no hope behind such a wish. You were slow as you approached, saying nothing before coming to kneel before him. Raising his head, the redness was already passing and his eyes were the remnants of what was once tears.

You hesitated to reach out to him, this was a raw offence he did not deserve. His youngest brothers by what was once a brother to him. Your face was as fallen as it had been much of the day, only now you had to try and be the one there for him regardless. “If I ever see him again, he’d better be thankful that all I’ll do his take his head. Bran can’t walk, Rickon was six what does he think he’s proving to anyone by murdering two boys who can’t even hope to fight back?”

There was a choke in his tone that wanted to yell or cry but had no more tempered energy to do either one. Finding his eyes, you tried to kneel as straight postured as you could, keeping the shaking of your lungs to yourself. “He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone but himself. They found all the ravens dead, he tried to hide this.”

Robb sighed out, his hands falling to rest along his thighs as they curled into fists. “He knew Bran and Rickon their entire lives, they’ve known him their entire lives. They saw him like a brother,”

Catching his eyes, he finally looked into yours properly before closing them again. His exhale much shakier this time. “The Lannisters take half my family from me, and now Theon kills the other half. What am I even left with?” Opening once more he looked to you, a plead for answers in his eyes while his fists tightened in the rage of not having any control.

“Robb,” You started, a breathy whisper before he reached up suddenly. His hand finding the back of your head as he leaned to press your foreheads together. His breathe hot on your skin as he spoke.

“My own mother betrayed my trust behind my back, the only brother I even have left?” His jaw clenched as your hands gently found the courage to dance lightly across the part of his chest exposed to the air. “I let him vow himself to the end of the world because I wasn’t brave enough to stand up for what he deserved. I think the only one I have left anymore is you.”

One of your thumbs trailed over his jaw, as your heart raced. Pushing the images and memories of the other back down deep for Robb’s sake. You couldn’t keep this from him anymore, it was cruel. You didn’t breathe an inch as you spoke, “My love, you have more then just me. I promise.” With nothing but nerves and anxiety racing inside you, you gently opened the tight fist in his lap still, running your fingers along his until he could feel his tensity loosening.

Robb thought you were trying to hold his hand, his brow furrowing when you took it and pulled it off his lap. Barley able to hear you as your own voice was so small, so unsure of yourself as you moved his hand to brush lightly under your shirt over your stomach. “You have us.”

It took him a moment to even register what you had done, pausing before turning to look down at where you held his wrist that brushed over the sliver of bare stomach. “Us?” His eyes were bright as he whipped his head up to look at you, almost confused for a moment as you could see it all hit him.

The nerves in your head ready to make you pass out as he looked back down. “You- you’re really?”

Suddenly in his own mind, Robb put it together. The sudden distance in yourself that begun not long after you returned to the camp, the way you kept away from him and then compounding of everyone having found a way to wrong him and he felt angry. Angry that he had given you the slightest idea that he’d be unhappy with you, that he hadn’t paid more attention.

The way you hadn’t been quite yourself, more needing of physical touch then normal to the point you even commented. You stared at him, for once too scared to try and read past his narrowed eyes and lips parted in shock as he suddenly sat up, grabbing you and hauling you into his arms and straddling his lap as he buried your face in his neck.

He huffed out a laugh in disbelief, before letting out another. More came turning into a laugh of joy before pulling back long enough to press a kiss to your lips. Barley leaving them to speak softly, “My girl,” a smile a real smile that had barley been on his face in weeks painted over, “My perfect girl.”

Pulling you back into another kiss, passion exploding in your mouth as you held the sides of his face as you tried not to let tears fall from them. You failed. Robb sat you on him back a little, one hand on your waist as the other ran over your stomach, “Why would you keep this from me? Why would you think I didn’t want to know about this?”

Your chest rose with a bile that you didn’t want to form into a sob. Swallowing hard the tears did not give such an obey of order. He touched and looked at you so softly, you’d cry if you tried explaining yourself in full. All that came out as like a confession of a misbehaving little girl you once were, “I thought you’d be mad,”

His hand now smoothed over your stomach firmer, thumb running back and forth as he narrowed his eyes in guilt. “Mad? At what for giving me the one thing I’ve dreamt of having with you for two years now?”

Resting now on his shoulders, you held all the sadness for the both of you. “We’re at war, we have no idea when we’ll not be, the last thing you need-”

Your name came out surprisingly stern from Robb’s lips. “Look at me.” Moving to keep your face looking right at his with a warm hand on your cheek. “War or not, you’re my wife, the love of my life. Do not think for one second, that you haven’t just given me the happiest news of my life. War or not, it’s you and me. It’s us,” His hand running over your stomach, “Now and always.”

You wanted to say something back, anything that would return the love but all that came to mind was tears and the relief that he wanted this, he wanted this and through all of the noise inside your head? All you could do was wrap your arms around him back as he kept one of his around you and the other pressed against your stomach.

It had been a long time in this war since you’d thought about what you genuinely wanted, but right here in Robb’s touch you found that answer. This, you wanted this. His voice was deep and the wavering of his was heard over the other clear distinction of a smile. “I hope you like being with child, my queen, because we have a whole list of names to get through.”

The laugh you let out was choked in a sob that he yet was thrilled enough to make him laugh. “How about we have this one first, then we can go from there?”

Robb pulled back, running his nose along the length of yours. “Oh no you’re not getting off that easy. You should know by now, there’s nothing a wolf wants then to see his mate with a whole litter of pups.”

Your eyes crinkled in a mock protest before he kissed you again, rough but quick. “You’re that confident?”

He shrugged as you both grinned, barley leaving the other enough to not feel your breath on your faces as he jested. “My mother had five children and I don’t even think they were trying for that many.” Robb turned his next kiss more sultry. Moving your jaw to the perfect angle to bite at your lip before kissing you with a greed and a tone in his voice that made you shiver. “Me on the other hand, maybe I’ll just keep you pregnant long as I can. Help my perfect little wife make us a perfect not so little family.”

Turning you to lay you out flat on the bed, Robb pulled your shirt up and off, giving him free reign to run his hands and lips over your stomach. “May as well start now,” Crawling up the length of your body until he caged you in hovering over you. His lips brushing against yours in a soft tease, “No harm in practising for later, right?”

Nodding, you reached up to run your fingers through his curls as he consumed you with his kiss. All biting your lips until they were red and swollen before licking his way into your mouth. Pulling away suddenly, leaving a trail of saliva to snap between you as he yanked off his own shirt before moving to impatiently pull yours until you lay bare beneath him.

Your heart raced and your blood burned as he reached for the laces of his breeches only to catch your eye, the hunger in his must have matched what you felt in yours as he then knelt straighter up. Looking at you with an eyebrow raised as he ran a hand over your jaw, “Show me how a good girl treats her King.”

You’d collapse if you weren’t already laying down, a dizziness hitting you as you kept your eyes up on Robb, his blue eyes were as dark as the sky beyond his window. It wasn’t fair how easily he had you at his mercy, how much you wanted to be. Pulling the material down his legs until they reached where he sat on his knees, you braced your palms on his thighs before Robb tsked. Running hand through your hair before finally moving to lay you back down.

Standing, he yanked them the rest of the way off standing bare to you as your thighs clenched together at how thick and heavy his cock was. Coming to sit on the bed beside you, he reached one hand to gently slide between your legs and push a space for his hand. Fingers brushing your clit before gently running over it with a slightly firmer pressure.

“I’ve been a bad husband,” You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “You’ve been upset, and I didn’t even pay enough attention to notice what was wrong.” Trailing down to run along your soaked entrance before sliding back up to your clit in a teasing pattern. “You’ve stood beside everything I’ve said and done, always supported my decisions, but I haven’t been there to take care of you back.”

This time you found your voice, stammering part way through as he slid a finger deep inside of you, “Robb you do take care of- me, fuck,” A gasp making you breathe out the rest in moan trying to hold back. “I don’t need you to be anything but exactly who you are.”

Head thrown back as he slowly slid his finger out before pressing a second in deep to the knuckle, his other hand running along your forehead to move your hair gently off it. “You don’t deserve to be pregnant in the middle of a war, so far from our home.” His thumb running tightly over your clit as your stomach muscles seized at the pleasure growing within. “I should be taking you in our bed, not having you on the battlefield where I can’t promise your safety.”

Your head felt as if it were sinking slowly underwater as your core screamed at you in addictive pressure. Reaching up, you grasped the wrist close to your head, running your thumb along his pulse as Robb picked up the speed of his fingers. “I, fuck, I belong wherever you are.” Robb’s chest rose and fell faster as he felt how wet and tightly you were clenching around him.

Moving to press his lips against yours you wrapped an arm around his neck and into his hair once more. “You stay by my side now, no matter what. We don’t leave the other,” His tone warm and yet a bit possessive as he bit at your lips to gain entrance to your mouth, his hand adding a third to make you whine as his palm rubbed against your clit roughly. Your thighs tense and shaking but just as he wanted, you kept them nice and wide.

Your breathe almost in needing high pitched pants when Robb pulled back, a smile on your lips that Robb could’ve melted at the sight of. You clenched around him and he could feel the pressure building inside you even despite your words. “From this day until our last day,”

Just as Robb ran a hand over the top of your head, he pressed his forehead to yours with gentle shushes as you felt your orgasm shatter. Throwing you off the cliff into the waters below with no warning as his touch kept you from arching right off the sheets. You burned and almost could cry at the waves swimming inside you as he slowly pumped his fingers until your cries turned into unspoken begs of mercy.

Giving no time, Robb kept them inside you as he kissed you again, “Turn over, my love.”

Only sliding out as he climbed behind you, not giving you the chance to get onto your hands and knees properly before sitting on his heels, pressing your back against his chest as he moved your hair. Leaving sloppy kisses down your neck as he slid his cock between your legs, running along the teasing entrance with your hands wrapping behind you. “Robb, please,”

With one hand on your hip, he spread the other wide across your stomach as he breathed heavily into your ear. “If only those men could see what perfect, needy little whore their pretty queen is.” You whined as he pressed his cock to tease more firmly against you. “It won’t take long, they’ll see how well their king fucks his queen soon enough.” Letting one of your hands fall to cover his on your stomach Robb grunted before sliding his cock inside of you. As he so loved to overwhelm you, he sunk as deep as he could go in one smooth thrust.

Pulling a cry from your lips and a growling of swearing from him as he dropped his face more into your neck. Slowly, Robb fucked up into you. Barley giving much force as he drew his cock out and pushed back in so slow that the sound of how wet you were around him was obscene. “Fuck, anyone’d fight a war just for a chance at this cunt, kill whoever it took just to be able to feel how soaked you are around their cock.”

His teeth leaving nibbles and his facial hair rubbing the sensitive marks raw and red as he moved his lips up and down. “Good thing I’m yours then, right?” You wanted to sound sultry but you couldn’t get through the words without almost breaking with a moan.

Robb so thick inside of you, the stretch was a sting you never knew could be so perfect. He slid his cock inside of you so smoothly without ever picking the pace up. Every vein and ridge of his cock pressing against the sensitive wall inside of you that had tears creeping out.

The hand on your waist moved, wrapping to force your face to turn to the side and let him capture your lips. His tongue meeting yours as gently and slowly exploring as his cock fucked you like maybe the world around you would stop as long as you two were intertwined. Only pulling from your lips long enough to slur out, his voice thick and accent strong as anything like he was to deep in how you felt around his cock to care if he was intelligible. “I love you, gods I love you.”

You tried so desperately to say it back, but it was like he teased you by kissing you harder each time or fucking you deeply to tear a gasp from your throat. He smirked when you whined his name and laughed as he could see your brows furrowing when he kissed you again.

Bodies covered in sweat, the coiling in your stomach build slowly as he took his time with you. Never speeding up, and always covering part of you with his hands, kiss, tongue, teeth and never letting go of your stomach. Instead choosing to press your hand down against the skin so he could rest it on top with his much larger hand consuming yours.

Your orgasm is what had the tears rolling down, it was slow and not wild like fire but a slow consumption that took your body into the flames limb by limb before you were engulfed. Your chest felt like it was floating and your head in the clouds as Robb fucked you all the same through it before he followed. Cock buried deep as he came warm and thick into you, pressing his lips to yours as you finally found a chance to mutter out, “I love you, Robb, I truly do.”

His muscles ached as he spilled inside of you before resting his face in your neck as you both slowly started to come down. “You don’t leave my side, either of you.” His hands now both running over your stomach as he knelt you more towards the bed.

Robb turned you in his arms to face you, one hand running over your hip and stomach while he switched between looking at your eyes and below once more. You snuggled as much as you could into his chest, Robb running his nose along your hair as you pressed into his neck.

Tomorrow, you’d have a funeral to begin leaving for, but maybe as cruel as it was, one life was given up for the other. His grandfather’s life leaving to join the gods, so that you and Robb still on the plains of the living could bring a new life together.

A few name ideas for boys rolled around in his head, but he worried not. Robb would share enough children with you to honour all of them. He’d make sure of it just as much as he could see in the hope in your eyes, that you too, wanted all of it.

It didn’t just startle Jon, it almost horrified him. His conscious mind desperate to justify his actions, fighting between telling himself what he knew was true, versus what he was lying to himself about to cope with the reality.

If he didn’t think about it, he could ignore how this was supposed to be with you. He could pretend that it didn’t matter how this played out, or lie to himself and say it felt good because he wanted it. The alternative outside the walls of the cave was death, prove your worth or die and this was the path chosen for him to do so.

As long as it felt good and he lied to himself, Jon could pretend as if he was fine with it. Until the image of you, dragging a hand to your stomach flashed before his eyes. The gentle brush of fingers against a stomach that he somehow knew was pregnant and he flushed with how clearly Ygritte thought such a physical response was for her.

Jon could feel his hand against your stomach, and he could see a dream of a baby. Eyes coloured just as yours but the hair was dark and curls that he knew all too well on himself. Let him think it was for her, and maybe Jon would get through this and just accept that lie as truth.

But Jon could see the child in his mind, the swell in your stomach and your breathless needy sigh in his ear that had been his only source of comfort in the rough beds at the wall. He could see all of it, and he felt shamed that on the other side of you, he could only envision himself, not the brother he knew it really was all for.

Jon could pretend he wanted this, when he knew the opposite was true, that he didn’t send his only protection left away at her demand. He could pretend that she was just like you when the opposites were the reality, and Jon would lie to himself as long as she was with him that he did want it.

Lying to himself about this was easier then admitting the truth, he was a grown man, he shouldn’t get to tell himself that he was forced into it. He should be better then that, and yet the only thought that kept Jon from cracking that resolve and leaving him broken, was the image of you with a child that should have been his.

The image of a pregnant wife that looked nothing like the wildling girl who acted as if such a role belonged to her. The need in the sounds in his head that belonged to you when they were being given to his brother.

He told you to love him, he wanted you to love him. But in this cave, Jon found no solace in the forced pleasure his body was having that you willing shared with his brother. His mind wasn’t settled and it burned him harder each time he could see the woman he was with.

Jon did this beacuse he had no choice, and he would lie to himself about not being forced into it for as long as he needed to to handle such a truth. But Jon couldn’t hide from himself, that every time he saw you as he touched the wildling girl, it fed her delusion of what she was to him. She forced him into it, and pretended as if his pleasure was the only consent she needed. You never did and never would force him into a single thing if you thought he doubted or hesitated in wanting. You respected him like none ever did or still does.

And it fed the pain that made Jon want to scream. This didn’t belong to her. It belonged to you.

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