#it's probably the way the lighting is and the ocean out the window (since i am an island girly :)

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CARDIGAN, AUGUST AND BETTY kim minji x reader x kazuha nakamura

🪩★ ͘ ⴰ yn’s always been a hopeless romantic, her wish is to have the best love story and have the love of her life by her side in the end, but you can’t do that without a little bumps in the road right?

💿 TAPE 01 — AUGUST “ august slipped away into a moment of time cause it was never mine.”

the ocean breeze coming from the window takes over yn’s room along with the soft music coming from her phone as the girl sits on her bed with her face in a book.

it’s calming, it’s the exact break she needed, from all the craziness of idol life, she’s happy minji invited her to this beach house for the second half of the summer, august was always sort of depressing, so maybe the beach house would make it fun.

speaking of minji, yn hasn’t seen her since this morning, but that’s probably her fault, the girl had locked herself in the room that she’s staying in, she was determined to finish the book that she was reading, it was romance obviously.

romance is everything to yn, being in love seems like the best thing that can ever happen to you in yn’s mind, yn’s older sister would probably tell her to get her head out of the clouds but she just can’t help it, having someone’s heart in the palm of your hands and them having yours seems so intimate and vulnerable that it’s beautiful.

the book that yn is reading is about summer love, summer love is probably yn’s favourite trope, she’d love to have a summer love, to swim in the ocean with them and play in the sand.

“yn?” a voice snaps her out of her love filled thoughts, she looks up to see minji peaking her head in between the cracks of her door, “yeah?”

minji opened the door wider and stood fully in the door way, she had a oversized sweater that seemed to be over her swimsuit, “wanna go the beach? you can bring your book.”

yn looks at the girl at her door and can’t help but stare, minji has always been pretty no doubt, but this summer yn felt something different, butterflies would fill her stomach every time the leader would look at her or her hands would feel shaky when minji would talk to her, it’s been getting weird lately if she’s being honest, “sure just let me put on my suit.”

after getting ready yn made her way downstairs where minji was sitting on the couch waiting for her, as if it was on cue the girl looked up from her phone and smiled at yn, “ready?”

“yep.”

as the day unfolded, it felt like something out of a dream. the sky was a perfect blue, with wisps of clouds lazily drifting by. yn and minji spent hours on the beach, their laughter mingling with the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

they built sandcastles, their fingers intertwined as they molded the wet sand, and raced each other into the ocean, the cool water a refreshing escape from the heat of the sun. later, they sprawled on their beach towels, with yn absorbed in her book while minji dozed off beside her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

yn felt a sense of peace, as if all the chaos of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of happiness. it was a contentment she hadn't experienced in a long time, being an idol could be so stressful sometimes.

as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the beach, they reluctantly packed up their things and made their way back to the cozy beach house they had rented for the summer. the evening air was cool against their sun-kissed skin, and yn couldn't help but smile as minji playfully bumped her shoulder.

"today was perfect," minji said, her voice soft but full of warmth. "i don't want it to end."

yn glanced at her, feeling a tug at her heart. "me neither," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

later that night, after they had showered and changed into comfortable clothes, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. the room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the tv screen. as the movie played, minji nestled closer to yn, resting her head on yn's shoulder. yn's heart raced as she felt minji's breath against her neck, a comforting presence that she had grown to cherish.

without thinking, minji leaned in and kissed yn, her lips soft and warm against yn's. yn's eyes fluttered shut as she returned the kiss, her heart pounding in her chest. the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them in that moment. minji's hand found its way to yn's cheek, caressing it gently as the kiss deepened.

when they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless. minji's eyes sparkled with something yn couldn't quite place, but it made her feel like she was floating. "i've wanted to do that for a while," minji admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

yn smiled, her cheeks flushed. "me too," she confessed.

the rest of august passed in a blur of stolen glances, secret touches, and passionate kisses. they spent their days exploring the small coastal town, holding hands when no one was looking, and sharing whispered conversations under the stars. at night, they would cuddle on the couch, the lines between friendship and something more becoming increasingly blurred.

it was yn’s dream, having summer love was all she could’ve hoped for, she had dreams about it, her older sister would call her delusional but this was it, it really was the dream.

but as the days slipped by, yn couldn't shake the feeling that this was all too good to last. they were more than friends, but less than a couple. it was a summer fling, a beautiful, fleeting moment in time that yn desperately wanted to hold onto.

one evening, as they were getting ready to head out for a late-night walk on the beach, minji excused herself to use the bathroom. yn sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently, when minji's phone, left on the nightstand, buzzed with a new message. the screen lit up, and yn's eyes were drawn to the notification.

it was a text from kazuha, a fellow idol from lesserafim. curiosity got the best of yn, and she couldn't help but glance at the message.

"hey, minji. i miss you. I can’t wait to see you." kazuha's message read, accompanied by a heart emoji.

yn felt a pang of jealousy pierce her chest. she quickly looked away, guilt washing over her for snooping, but the damage was done. in that moment, reality hit her like a wave crashing against the shore. she realized that she might just be a summer fling, a temporary distraction for minji.

when minji returned, she found yn sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, her expression unreadable. "you okay?" minji asked, concern lacing her voice as she walked over and sat beside yn.

yn forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "yeah, i'm fine," she lied, trying to sound convincing. but her heart ached, and she knew that minji could sense something was off.

yn was never the best at hiding her emotions, she was an emotional person, her older sister would tell her, that she needs to learn how to hide them.

minji frowned, studying yn's face. "are you sure? you seem… distant."

yn wanted to spill everything, to ask minji what they really were, to understand where she stood in minji's life. but instead, she swallowed her emotions and shook her head. "it's nothing," she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. "just tired, i guess."

minji didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press further. she wrapped her arm around yn, pulling her close, and yn let herself melt into the embrace. but as they sat there, the weight in yn's chest grew heavier. she knew, deep down, that their summer fling was coming to an end, and the thought terrified her.

of course her summer love wouldn’t actually be hers.

[mayghosts]

Little Gold Top: (5) Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: late night dorm confrontations and impulsive decisions

(Previous) (TOC)

Warnings: sad confrontation, wtf, not proof read!

AN: guys i officially have a fanfic author life, like shits crazy!!

Practice was rough. Kate knew it was rough by the way the coaches were whispering on her way out of the gym and how Caitlin looked at her in the locker room. Kate was supposed to be the captain, the glue that holds the team together. With everything going on lately she couldn’t help but feel that she was loosing her skills. Not to mention, an incredibly talented teammate.

She couldn't decide if it was worth it to double text you. Flipping her phone over again, she was met with her unanswered text. Her attempt to fix whatever the fuck was wrong. Is anything even wrong? Flopping into her bed she stared out the window, watching the sun dip below the trees. The idea that at the end of the year she would be graduating, you two would probably never even live in the same city again. She couldn’t help but feel a bit existential.

Quickly this existentialism turned to fear. Wrapped in her comferter headphones pumping Frank Ocean she couldn't help but think about how different you were. Not in a pick me way, but in an emotional way. Kate was always a bit of a hopeless romantic. Plenty of times she's seen a girl in the hallway and planned their futures together. But when she thought about you, she saw everything. You were everything.

As the street lamps outside the dorm flicked on she felt the pit in her stomache return. You were so close, probably only two minutes away; but you've always been so far. Sure the two of you had been physically close, and physically you two knew eachother like a married couple. Emotionally, Kate had no fucking clue who you were. And it killed her. It would probably only take her three minutes to get to your appartement. A two minute run down the street, up two floors, about fourty steps off the elevator to the left, room 203. Kate could see it in all her head. She would knock and you would open the door with a big smile. You would pull her inside and you would watch UP! on the couch and you would tell her about your day. She would listen and love every second of it. The way your hair falls on your shoulders, the way the light from the tv refletcs off your face, the way you light up as you tell her about the dog you saw on your way to class. She would even love the chocolate on your face from the icecream you would eat and your really long monologues about subjects she dosen't really understand, all because she loves you. She really really loves you, and she is so fucking scared.

Kate could feel the panic building in her chest as she swung her feet over the side of her bed. Pulling her shoes on she slipped out of her suite into the kitchen and out into the hallway. Where she was going she wasn't sure, just somewhere, wherever her feet took her. Into the elevator, down two floors. Running through the chilly night air she could feel the tears biting at her cheeks. Into the lobby, scan the emergency key card shes kept since freshman year, into the elevator, up two floors, fourty steps to the left.

Your Pov

You hadn't slept yet. You were deffinately tired, exhausted actually, but whenever you closed your eyes you just saw the missed shots and then Kates face. Neither of these were the right mateiral to lull you to sleep. Sitting on your couch, you let the tears flow. nothing seemed to be going right so far. Fuck Kate for not being able to keep it in her pants. You don't think you've ever been so upset with someone before. You don't think you've ever had someone like Kate before. Techincally, you don't even have her.

The pounding at your door startled you from your haze. You contemplated just opening the door without looking and letting the serial killer in. Maybe he would watch UP! with you, or put you out of whatever meta hell this is. You walked towards the door, stopping to grab a knife in the kitchen. Just incase.

Looking out the peep hole you were met with none other than Kate Martin. You glanced at the clock on the stove. 2:05, late enough to pretend to be asleep. As she started banging again you heard stirring from the room down the hall. dammit shes gonna wake Gabbie up. You unlocked the chain and lock and flung the door open. Stepping outside and shutting the door behind yourself. Kate seemed shocked to see you, funny seeing that she was the one breaking your door down.

"Okay, what the actual fuck-" "I love you." You snapped your head back to look at her in the eyes. For once, everything was silent. You gently dropped the kitchen knife as you reached out to grab her shoulder "Kate what are you talking about?" She shrugged away from your touch, "please I just... I need to... I-" You could feel your heart tear a bit everytime she failed to find the words. You left your hand out like a statue and watched as the tears streamed down her face "God I don't know, I'm scared I've fucked us up. We can't be done yet we have so much left I-" She palmed at her damp cheeks, attempting to dry the tears. Her hair was frazzled, still in the ponytail from practice. It was far too cold for the PJ shorts she was wearing and you couldn't help but wonder if she was cold. "-and I'm sorry it's so late I was just thinking that we have never watched UP! together, and I don't even know your middle name and I have been such a shitty friend!" "Kate, its so late can we-" "No! because I need you to listen. What kind of friend fucks the girl she loves in the back of a toyota? What the fuck happened to us?" "Kate!" You didn't often raise your voice, so it caught her off gaurd. You were most actually speechless.

You felt the emotions of three years of unrequited love pressing behind your eyes. Pulling her by her arm, you dragged her inside. She followed you like a lost puppy. Locking the door behind you pulled her to the couch and threw her a blanket. "Just sit there, and don't say a fucking word." She looked over at you with big eyes, and you pretended not to watch her as she sat awkwardly on your couch. You turned the kettle on, staring at it waiting for the water to boil. Maybe you could just incinerate yourself in the oven? You peaked over your shoulder to see her passed out on the couch, curled up with her head on the arm rest. You poured yourself a cup of tea, turned off the kettle and gently padded over to the couch. Turning off the lights you found your way to a spot on the opposite end of the couch.

Through the darkness you could see the curve of her shoulders, her blonde hair falling over the fuzz of the blanket. Truly a sight you could never get sick of. She really was the prettiest girl you knew, probably the prettiest girl ever. Everything seemed so complicated, these past years with Kate seemed so simple in the moment. Now it just felt like a big mess. How do you even fix this? What even are we fixing? Maybe that was a tomorrow problem. For now you were just happy to have her here.

[cher-rei]

Heyy,

Could u write a Jamal Musiala x reader fic

Where they are both on vacation and just go swimming on the beach but she doesn’t like swimming because she fears deep water,so he helps her

and he propose her later ,at dinner

I know it’s kinda kitschy

xoxo

bottled up– jamal musiala [ J.M ]

I will always love you [godsped– frank ocean]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: a much needed trip to the maldives ends in a wave of emotions and unforgettable memories.

genre(s): fluff and a whole lot of emotions, suggestive content but it's chill

[wc: 2.3k] masterlist

notes: screaming. crying. throwing up. me when????

your jaw dropped at the breathtaking sight of the resort in front of you. jamal had surprised you with a trip to the maldives, saying that it had been so long since you too have been alone together without any interruptions.

and you were so glad that the thought dawned on him because the way that the sun soaked island looked from your hotel room was gorgeous. the azure waters, flourishing greenery, and the vibrant hibiscus flowers set a perfect backdrop for your much needed holiday.

jamal had been looking forward to this trip for weeks, eager to spend quality time with you without any pressure. he shut the door to your suite behind him, a smile on his lips as you gawked at the view from the window.

"this view is making me emotional," you joked and took a few pictures of the sunset scenery.

jamal hugged you from behind, letting his chin rest on top of your head to admire the view and appreciate the feeling of you safe in his arms. "yeah?" he laughed at your eager nod in response to his answer and gently peppered the crook of your neck with kisses.

you felt the featherlight touch of his lips start to roam, causing you to giggle. you shivered at his touch, absentmindedly tilting your head to give him more access. this probably wasn't the best thing to do at a moment like this, especially when you still had unpacking to do.

jamal's kisses grew more insistent, his hands roaming over your body and you turned around to face him, needing more. your lips met instinctively, your fingers tangled in his hair which caused him to let out a satisfied moan.

taking this as a sign, he took a few steps back that had the two of you stumbling back toward the bed, your laughter mingling with the sound of the crashing waves outside. the energy between the two of you was playful, nothing short of a giggling mess. but you loved it.

"I know I said that I was tired when we landed." his kisses moved from your lips to your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone. "but I think I'll be good for another hour."

disregarding your laughing state, he gently pushed you back onto the mattress, the playful twinkle in his eyes never leaving as he looked down at your smiling figure.

you covered your face with your hands in attempt to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. "an hour?" the shock in your voice made him smirk, and he pulled your hands from your face.

"baby, if you want two then I'll be more than happy to--"

"--jamal!"

the following morning, you woke up feeling more relaxed than ever. the atmosphere was enough to lull you to sleep for at least a week, but there was still much exploring to do.

jamal made sure to have you up and ready for breakfast in record time so you could be out for some sightseeing. his excitement for this trip was jarring and it warmed your heart knowing that he finally got a chance to rest after the season he's had back home.

it was filled with ups and downs and you recalled the evenings where he would come home from practice and lay himself down on your chest. no words were exchanged in moments like those, instead you'd gently trial your hand on his back.

in minutes you'd have him fast asleep with his head resting in the crook of your neck, his light snores of exhaustion tugging at your heart as a reminder of how hard he worked. all this at the ripe age of 21, so you knew that your role wasn't just to be his girlfriend, it was to be his support and home.

which was what you were doing now in your hotel room after taking a tour of the resort and eating lunch. jamal's grip tightened on your waist as he cuddled further into your side, basking in your warmth.

"I'd kill to have vacations where we could just lay like this," he muttered through a smile, a warmth spreading through his chest at the low hum vibrating from your chest. and he was just about to fall back to sleep when a wave of realisation washed over him.

he lifted his head to look down at you, flashing his trademark smile. "are you ready to hit the beach?"

you smiled back at him, though with a hint of apprehension. "sure, but you know how I feel about the ocean right?"

the ocean, or rather the depth of it was one of your greatest fears. you were one to appreciate the way it looked, and the beauty of the waves crashing and how it looked on the horizon but when it came to swimming in it, your chest tightened.

jamal understood this better than anyone and ruffled your hair teasingly. "don't worry, I'll be holding your hand the entire time. and we'll just dip our toes in, okay?"

screw jamal and his power over you, because not even 10 minutes later, you were on your way with a bag full of snacks, sunscreen, and a ridiculously sized inflatable flamingo that he insisted on bringing. when you arrived, the beach was everything you'd hoped for— clear waters, soft sand, and surprisingly empty.

your boyfriend wasted no time and set your things beside your lounge chairs, making sure that you were comfortable. before he got too excited you wave him over and took out the sunscreen.

"j, take your shirt off. you can't get it wet," you said and applied some sunscreen to your arms and legs. you were wearing a cute cream linen two-piece— shorts and a button-up shirt with your swimsuit underneath,

janal sat on the lounge chair with you standing between his legs, with a pout on his lips, clearly not wanting to put the sunscreen on. "you just wanted a reason to touch me, I know how you think."

you rolled your eyes as you smoothed the sunscreen onto his shoulders, just the sight of his toned upper body had your heart pounding but you couldn't give in.

he must've been tipped off by your lack of reply though and took it as an invitation to tease you further. there was silence as you applied the last of your sunscreen but your breath hitched at the feeling of jamal fidgeting with the hem of your shorts.

not having any of, you gently slapped his hand away. "we're done here, thanks."

to your surprise, he gladly took his leave and made sure to drag the flamingo to the water. after 10 minutes of relaxation and peaceful sunbathing, he called out to you, saying that it was time to get in.

you happily declined however, and said that your presence and the fact that you took of your shirt and shorts was enough as is. there was no need for you to get in the water instead, you stood on the water's edge and watched as he played around.

"but the flamingo is lonely without you," he whined with a pout, bringing the flamingo floaty closer.

you shook your head and kicked the water beneath your feet, which sent an unwanted chill up your spine. "no thanks. I'm fine over here."

jamal was a baby at times like this, where he would whine and beg because no matter what, he knew that you'd give in eventually. he came up to stand a few steps in front of you, the floaty still at his side.

"come on baby." he extended his hand out for you to grab. "for the flamingo?"

what was up with him and this famn flamingo?

with a deep sigh, and a roll of your eyes, you relented, watching as his eyes lit up. "fine, but if I drown, it's on you."

"deal," he said and took your hand in his, slowly taking a few steps further into the water. "I'll even throw in a free cpr lesson."

a scoff left your lips and the two of you continued to wade into the water which was now resting just above your knees. the comforting grip of jamal's hand on yours made the situation ten times better and you found yourself enjoying the feeling of the water on your skin.

"see. this isn't so bad," he said and lightly splashed you with some water and you splashed him back.

it took a bit but you were more or less fully covered by the water that was now resting at your chest. you floated around on the flamingo calmly while jamal stayed at your side in the water. it was more relaxing than you thought it would be, and you quite enjoyed the feeling.

as the afternoon went on, the two of you enjoyed the water, had fun with the flamingo and took a bunch of pictures with it, and laughed until your sides hurt. by the time the sun began to set, you were both comfortably bobbing in the water, watching the sky turn into a masterpiece of warm hues.

a few days later, you and jamal found yourselves back at the beach, this time with a picnic basket and a sense of excitement. the flamingo floaty was noticeably absent, but there was a twinkle in jamal's eyes that you couldn't quite place.

after a lazy afternoon of sunbathing and snaking, jamal suggested that you should take a walk along the shore. you were a but suspicious at first since it was starting to get late, but agreed seeing as that you wanted to spend more time with your boyfriend in this setting.

as you strolled, hand in hand, jamal kept glancing around, seemingly searching for something. you took notice of this and couldn't help but wonder. "jamal what are you looking for?" you lightly nudged his arm and he turned to look down at you with his lips pursed.

"I have a feeling that the flamingo is following us," he deadpanned, causing you to laugh. his blank expression didn't last long though, and his focus was fully on how beautiful you looked.

the way that the setting sun reflected your complexion was awing and he couldn't help but stare, his heart pounding in his chest. you were breathtaking and it took jamal a while to realise that you were talking to him.

you waved a hand in front of his face. "hello? are you okay?"

he cleared his throat and smiled. "yeah, you're distracting me that's all."

a scoff of disbelief fell from your lips at his comment but you continued to face forward, your interlocked hands swinging at your sides. the stroll continued for a bit but finally he gasped and directed your attention to something.

"it's looks like there's something in it." you squinted, spotting the bottle bobbing in the gentle waves.

jamal who couldn't contain his curiosity ran to the waters edge and picked up the bottle, inspecting it before attempting to remove the cork. he was struggling by the looks of it, and waved you over to help him.

you rolled your eyes but joined in, both of you tugging at the bottle until jamal finally popped it open, almost falling over in the process. he laughed sheepishly as he handed it over to you with a sigh.

"open it, I'm too tired I need to catch my breath," he said dramatically and took a few steps to dramatically fan himself off. you watched your boyfriend with a disapproving look as he walked off but gave in.

you uncorked the bottle and pulled out a piece of paper, laughing at how this was probably something like a few kids did a while ago. nonetheless, you unrolled it was a smile until your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

the paper read, "will you marry me?" but what confused you was that it was obviously in jamal's handwriting. "j, wha--" your sentence abruptly came to a halt when you turned around to look at your boyfriend who was dropped to one knee, holding up the most gorgeous ring you've ever seen.

a knot of emotions formed in your stomach and you were honestly about to throw up. words were lodged in your throat, your gaze softening as you looked at jamal who was nervously smiling. "I love you. I am, who I am because of you— you are every season, every hope and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens in the future, everyday that we're together is the greatest day of my life."

the tears were falling down your cheeks in record time, but you tried to wipe them back as jamal carried on speaking and all you could think of in that moment was how much you loved and appreciated every single thing about him.

a small chuckle left his lips as he watched you blink away your tears. "I have so many things to say right now but you're making me nervous-- seriously you look so gorgeous right now." the trail off was unintentional and after a beat of listening to you laugh, his heart swelled.

"just like the grains of sand that make up this beach, you make up every part of me. so before I start crying— will you marry me?"

your heart raced, a of laughter filling the air as you didn't waste a second to nod your head with an excited "yes, of course I'll marry you!"

jamal slipped the ring on your finger, picking you up and spinning you around as you both laughed. he set you down and kissed you deeply, the waves lapping at your feet as you sunk into the sand and the feeling of utter bliss.

it was when you pulled away that you heard a few more familiar screams echo through the air causing you to look behind you. at a nearby rock, sophia, aaliyah, kai and florian appeared. they were carrying— of course— the flamingo floaty, now decorated with flowers and a banner that read, "she said yes!"

you burst out laughing and looked at jamal who pulled you closer to his chest, kissing the top of your head. "I told you the flamingo was following us."

[lcriedlastnight]

Oscar has been planning on proposing to y/n for a couple of months by now, already bought the ring, tried multiple times to propose to her but every time he felt too scared/ anxious to do it. One time Y/n accidentally finds the ring somewhere in their shared apartment

this is so cute! thanks for the request! ilysmmm. mwah!

tw: fem!reader, swears, scaredy cat oscar, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 2.2k

the sunlight peered through your window, through the see-through blinds you insisted on buying for yours and oscar's shared room. the way the light hits your resting features makes your man sigh out in bliss. every single morning he has the exact same thoughts when he watched you sleep, 'i need to spend the rest of my life with her'.

it had almost been a eight months since he first had that thought. seven since he acted on it and asked your sister to come with him when he was shopping for a ring. a second opinion does not hurt.

the ring had sat in his drawer for a good few weeks, maybe even a month as oscar contemplated how exactly he wanted to go about proposing. this was one area he was completely clueless for. give him literally anything else and he would be able to rhyme off the answer quicker than he could answer for himself. your favourite food? those cookies with the chocolate inside. your favourite film? the lego batman movie. clothes size? you were a small but in most t-shirts you preferred them in a medium so they were a bit baggier on you. how you would like to be proposed to? no clue. oscar knew deep down that it didn't really matter where he proposed, or even how he did it. he was sure you would say yes in if he proposed halfway through taking a shit. it mattered a whole lot to oscar, he wanted it to be a memory you looked back on with fondness and love.

the first time oscar tried to propose, it was a super traditional and basic way. the boy had booked for you to both head on a cute getaway before the season started back up again in february. you had always talked about wanting to go to greece, so he had booked you both in for two weeks in santorini. oscar carried the ring in his pocket the whole holiday even though he had planned out when he wanted to ask you.

the restaurant you had both just eaten in was probably one of the most expensive buildings you had ever been in. you told oscar so. he laughed in response.

"i think the paddock costs much more than than, love." oscars arm was around your waist as you walked alongside him, you were basically leaning on him at this point too. you snort at his words.

"fine, the most expensive looking building i've ever been in." you reword your sentence. oscar laughs. he swears he has never laughed as much as he had in those two weeks with you. oscar had ended guiding you both up to the top of this hill, you barely even noticed, too busy talking his ear off from the glass of wine you had drank with dinner. you were on holiday, why not?

there was a cute little bench that had fairy lights wrapped around it sitting pretty at the top of the hill, over looking the city and the ocean next to it. oscar encourages you to sit. he knew he had made the right choice to propose here when, a few days after arriving you had told oscar that greece was probably your favourite place in the entire world now.

you sit with your head on your boyfriend's shoulder as you watch the tide from far above. oscar fiddles with the ring in his pocket, nerves beginning to eat away at him. you grow quiet as your eyes twinkle in the moonlight. jesus, you looked like something out of his wildest dreams, oscar was sure of it. your voice breaks the comfortable silence between you both.

"i know this holiday isn't finished yet but i really have had the best time with you osc. i appreciate you doing this for me. you do too much for me, i want to pay you back for it all one day." your voice is a whisper because talking at a normal volume just doesn't feel right in the moment.

oscar's nerves get the best of him as you bare your heart to him. here you were being vulnerable with him and he couldn't even build the courage to ask you to marry him. the driver was so unsure of where the nerves were coming from, he was completely sure you would say yes, he knew you loved him yet his hand slipped out his pocket to move towards your thigh to give it a squeeze. a sweet kiss is pressed to your hair before oscar is whispering back his reply.

"me too, sweet girl. wanna stay here with you, forever." a part of his brain tells him that if he just proposed like he was supposed to then you would be able to do this with him forever and it would be promised. he shakes the thoughts from his head as he tells himself that now wasn't the right time awayways.

you had come back from that holiday, still his girlfriend and your finger still void of a ring.

the second time almost caused him to have a panic attack. this time it was less traditional and more relaxed. it had been almost two months since your trip to greece and the sight of your ring finger being bare sent oscar into a spiral every time he caught a glimpse of where that diamond should be.

you finally had him to yourself after a gruelling triple header. those races had actually given oscar some of the best results of the season so far, but it had taken it's toll on your relationship as you had barely spoken to your emotional support boy. the time zones messing you up, plus the fact that you had way too much school work to finish causing you to be forced (by oscar, himself. it pained him to do it but he knew how important this degree was to you and he was not going to let you throw it away just because you missed him and wanted to watch him drive in circles for an hour and a half for three sundays straight) to stay at home.

oscar was sure you would be waiting for him on the couch in your shared living room, it's your routine at this point. when oscar gets back home, it is the late evening. maybe around dinner time. he hopes you haven't waited on him to eat.

as the australian boy unlocked the door, he looked around the apartment. three weeks without his home comforts (you) had taken its toll on him. it is sort of dark in the hallway leading to the living room, the door to the room laying wide open. oscar can see the back of the couch and the blaring light of the tv. it was bright.

the ring had stayed at the back of his bottom drawer in his bedside table. it was right next to you, right where you slept without him for twenty-one nights without him. oscar was desperate to get his hands on you.

as soon as the threshold was crossed and oscar was in the living room with you, your perfume hit him like a brick wall. the brown eyed boy almost started crying at the smell, he had just missed you that much.

your laying on the couch, asleep. this actually surprised oscar. you were never usually asleep, you were so good at controlling when and where you fell asleep, waking up however... that was a different story altogether.

oscar takes your legs and lifts them up softly to slide in underneath them. he was not going to lay down next to you because he knew for a fact as soon as he fell asleep there would be no waking him up until at least midday tomorrow. you were like that everyday.

oscar admires you for a bit before the urge to propose to you comes creeping back. the desperation of being yours for the rest of his life, reared its ugly head as his eyes follow the swoop of your lashes against your cheeks. he thinks about shaking you awake to do it.

the boy is too deep in thought to realise you've woken up. it's like you can tell when he is in mental distress and you come to save him from himself.

"you're home." you mumble into the air. it is left hanging, not responded to as you sleepily blink yourself awake to finally get a good look at him. he's lovely to look at. as lovely as ever.

"you okay?" you ask him after period of silence that is too loud to bring any comfort.

oscar doubts he is any good for you, so for the second time he chickens out and doesn't propose, although it does send his tired and self conscious mind into a spiral that almost brings on a panic attack. he's quick to assure you he's alright, "just tired after all that flying." is his excuse. you believe him and do not have to try very hard to coax him into bed.

once you both had done your night routines next to each other for the first time in three weeks and oscar was laying practically on top of you, he thought about the ring again. just sitting in his bedside table when it should be on your finger as you brag to everyone you see in the shops that you were getting married to the love of your life. it will happen and oscar will see it, he just has to build the courage, next time for sure.

that had been four months ago. the boy didn't even try to think about attempting to propose to you, it all bearing too heavy still. the longer he took the more he talked himself into the idea of you not wanting to marry him.

so when you find the ring on a tuesday lunch time, it is safe to say oscar is shitting himself. oscar had been laying on his side with his head on your lap on the couch watching some documentary on whether or not the remains some archaeologist had found was really an alien or not. you were listening in as you scrolled through your phone, carding your fingers through his hair. it had popped into the brunette's mind that he had forgotten to order his sisters birthday present, it was sitting in the basket, ready to checkout but you had distracted him by asking him what he would do if you chucked your glass of water in his face. so he asked you to log into his account and get it for him.

"it's asking for your card details, osc. where is it?" you ask, reading out what the phone in your hand was saying. oscar groans at the thought of you leaving him for even a second physically hurting him. "bottom drawer of my bedside, love." oscar mumbles, concentration falling back onto the tv. unknowing he had just told you the location to the item that had been plaguing his mind for the past eight months. the realisation doesn't kick in when he hears your gasp, or when he is rushing through to your room to check in and make sure you are okay. it only hits when he sees you sitting on the floor in front of the piece of furniture, turning around to face him with tears in your eyes and a ring in your hand.

"is this what i think it is?" you ask him, voice shaking. oscar really is dumb because he cannot work out his you are crying with happiness or out of sadness. although he is quick to sit beside you, hands reaching for the ring but you pull it back out of his grasp, waiting for the answer.

"yeah," oscar sighs. "i've tried to propose to you twice now but every time i get too scared and don't. i've been trying to for eight months". oscar gets even more worried than he originally was when he sees your frown. there was no way he had just fucked this up with you.

"i could've been engaged to you for eight months?" you ask, you seem genuinely disappointed by this fact and that is what snapped everything into place in his brain. you wanted to be engaged to him. oscar jumps forward to wrap you into a bone crushing hug that makes your heart skip beats.

"i will marry you oscar." you tell him.

"i'm so sorry i chickened out, i don't know what was wrong with me. i could've been almost married to the most perfect girl in the world. my most perfect girl." oscar murmurs his apology into your hair but you had already forgiven him. way back before he had even apologised.

the light still beams into the room, oscar thinks about buying black-out curtains until he sees the way the morning light hits your eyes just after you have just opened them. although they close again much too quickly for oscars liking.

it is like you can feel oscar's stare because you grab his arm, pulling him closer to you.

"love you osc." you mumble into the pillow. eyes drooping again as your face relaxes. oscar presses a kiss to the side of your head as he whispers "love you even more, pretty.".

[slytherheign]

SNOW ON THE BEACH | tasm!peter parker

PREQUEL TO A WALK TO REMEMBER.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

SUMMARY: you start to see your best friend in a different way at the same time the snow starts to fall.

WARNINGS: doubts and unspoken feelings. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. as written above, this is a prequel to another fic of mine but this can also be read as a standalone. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC but if you see something that pertains to a specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS SOTB (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It was late November and the neighborhood was gearing up for the upcoming winter season. Normally, you would stay home for moments like this, staring at the window as you waited for the snow to fall. However, this time was different because your best friend had other plans. He all but pulled you up from your couch where you were peacefully taking a nap to lead you out of your house. Apparently, for him, this kind of weather was perfect for walking along the beach.

You and Peter have known each other ever since you were children. The moment your family moved into his town, he was the first kid who wanted to be your friend. There was no question why you instantly became best friends. Since then, you have shared everything from secrets to dreams. 

Always inseparable, rarely without the other.

Always been “just best friends.”

But a shift has shown itself—unspoken feelings that simmered beneath the surface that neither of you fully understood or dared to acknowledge. For you, it started in your third year of high school, and since then have lingered every time you were with him. As much as you hoped it would go away at some point, it unfortunately didn’t. And it certainly wouldn’t go away right now as he walked with you along the coast, your hand in his, intertwined.

The beach was secluded under the cloak of night, where the only light came from the stars scattered across the sky like pocketfuls of glitter. The ocean whispered against the shore, the waves reflecting the moonlight in a soft, silver glow. The air was cool, almost cold, but not unwelcoming, like the gentle feeling of his hand. The atmosphere is filled with indescribable magic, a surreal blend of familiarity and something entirely new. You recognized a spot you used to visit as kids—a large driftwood log, half-buried in the sand—and nudged Peter to look at it.

“Remember when we used to sit at that spot when we were kids?” you asked.

“How can I possibly forget? That’s where you first told me you wanted to travel the world,” he chuckled. “Remember that spot?” he pointed at the spot to the side of the large driftwood log.

“That’s where we built that crazy sandcastle,” you giggled, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air. “I swear, we thought we could actually live in it forever.”

Peter laughed, his breath was visible in the night air. “And then the tide came in and washed it away. We were probably devastated for like, what—ten minutes?”

“More like ten seconds,” you replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. You turned to him, a playful grin on your face. “We just ran back into the water, forgetting all about it.”

He smiled at the memory, squeezing your hand gently. The temperature dropped as you strolled further down the beach, sending a shiver down your spine. Peter noticed and let go of your hand so he could shrug off his jacket and drape it around your shoulders. The warmth of his gesture seeped through, but you didn’t miss how he decided not to hold your hand again.

“Thanks, Pete,” you said softly. Your heart fluttered in your chest for the kind gesture but you already missed holding his hand. For a second, you were about to reach for his hand but he pulled it away from you to stuff it in his jeans.

In the quiet of the moment, you felt a sudden ache in your chest. You turned to look at him but he was staring straight ahead. He seemed deep in thought and you didn’t bother interrupting him. Besides, thoughts of your own began to find their way into your head at the same time. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you lately. Every time you see him, you feel this… weird flutter in your chest. It was like your heart was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t understand it. You have been best friends for so long. He was always there, always the one you could count on, always the one who made you laugh when you were feeling down. But now… now it felt different. You couldn’t help but notice the little things when he was around. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. And when he wasn’t around, you’d find yourself missing him more than you ever did before. But missing your best friend was normal, right?

But then, why did it hurt so much every time you saw him with someone else? Why did it feel like your heart was being squeezed when he talked to other girls? You should be happy for him, you should want him to be happy. But instead, you feel… jealous? Was it jealousy? You didn’t even know… but you hated it. You hated that you felt this way because it didn’t make any sense.

Life was emotionally abusive but he was the one guiding light that gave you inspiration to wake up every day. You’ve been through everything together, from heartbreaks to triumphs, and you always leaned on each other for support—because that’s what best friends did.

Just best friends. It was all you've ever been.

So, why couldn’t you stop thinking about what it would be like if… if you were more than that? What would it feel like to touch his hair when he sleeps, to look into his eyes that were reminiscent of flying saucers from another planet for hours, to know the feeling of his lips on yours? But then, what if you were wrong? What if this was just some passing thing, and you would ruin everything by saying something? What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you lose him? You couldn’t stand that. You couldn’t stand losing him. But if you didn’t say anything, how would you ever know? How would you ever figure out what these feelings were? Maybe… you were just overthinking everything. Maybe this was just a phase that would pass if you just ignored it long enough… but what if it wasn’t? What if this was something real, something worth risking everything for?

You wished you could figure out what your heart was trying to tell you. Because right now, it felt like it was screaming, and you were too scared to listen.

You just wished you knew what to do. 

Then, unexpectedly, delicate flakes began to fall from the darkened sky, dancing down like tiny stars coming to rest on the earth. At first, it felt unreal—a gentle winter blanket spreading across the beach, contrasting the warm feeling that was in your chest. Other than the falling snow, the sky above was clear, except for a faint, otherworldly glow on the horizon, it reminded you of the aurora borealis, though neither of you have ever seen it in person.

“It’s snowing,” Peter whispered as he looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. The snow gathered in his tousled hair, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his astonishment. You both paused, turning your faces to the sky, letting the soft flakes melt on both of your skin. 

“Snow on the beach,” he mused.

“I know. It’s weird… but beautiful,” you replied.

Peter looked at you without you noticing, catching a fleeting moment when the moonlight seemed to illuminate your face from within, making your features soft and almost ethereal. He smiled.

“It is beautiful…” he agreed. 

You turned your face just to see him staring at you.

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, everything around the two of you faded into a serene silence. You saw that the same wonder you had was reflected in his eyes. And suddenly, all your doubts were cast aside. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you had never noticed before, a silent question that mirrored your own feelings. 

Peter reached out, enveloping your hands with his. The touch was electric, sending a shockwave of awareness through both of you. You paused, holding your breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak, as if knowing that this moment might shatter everything between the two of you.

The snow fell heavier and your hearts synchronized with the rhythm of the ocean. You shared a knowing smile, the kind that held a thousand unspoken words as you both realized what was happening.

Peter broke the silence first, his voice quiet but steady. “Do you ever wonder…” he started, the words hanging in the air like the snowflakes drifting down. He hesitated, searching for the right way to express the feelings in his heart. “If we could… be more?”

You felt your heart race at his words, a warmth that was stronger than any chill of the winter night spread through your body. “Yeah, I do,” you whispered, nervous yet elated. 

It was as if, for the first time, you were seeing each other in a new light, one that revealed what has always been there but was hidden beneath layers of friendship. It was beautiful, but also terrifying, like seeing snow on the beach—something that you felt shouldn't exist, yet here it was, impossibly real.

“Maybe we could try?” Peter suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d like that,” you replied, smiling.

In an instant, everything changed. The world blurred, the periphery fading away until all that existed was the space between you. The stars, the moon, the endless ocean—they all receded into the background, insignificant compared to the look you shared. At that moment, everything clicked into place. The memories of your secret smiles and late-night conversations flooded back, but now they carried a different weight. 

“So…” he started. “Be mine?”

Peter raised a hand to brush a snowflake from your hair and you leaned into his touch with your heart pounding.

“Yes,” you answered with no hesitation.

As the snowflakes continued to drift down, you leaned into each other, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a kiss that felt like everything and nothing at the same time—gentle, hesitant, but full of the promise of what could be. The world around you seemed to hold its breath as if the very stars were watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

When you finally pulled away, the world resumed its quiet motion, but something had definitely shifted. The snow, the beach, the stars—all of it felt different, it was like the universe itself knew and played a part in what just happened and what would happen.

Neither of you spoke, afraid that words might break the spell or jinx everything. 

And in truth, you didn’t need to say anything more. The way you looked at each other, the way your forehead rested against his—said it all.

You continued to walk along the shore hand in hand, the snow crunching softly beneath your feet, leaving a trail that would soon be covered by fresh snow. The future was uncertain, but for now, you were contented in the knowledge that you’d found something beautiful—like snow on the beach.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

[freakassfemme]

(Smut) Captain's Quarters - Yara Greyjoy x CisF!Reader

Summary: Princess Y/N, sibling of Queen Daenerys, has returned with her sister for a visit to the Iron Islands. These visits used to be more commonplace, but the two have not visited the islands since before the Battle of Winterfell. Y/N has a strong attachment to the islands, but finds her attachment has extended to its reigning monarch in a new, unfamiliar way.

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, praise kink (kinda), the works

A/N: Long time no see! I got so sick and tired of there being no reader insert for Yara that I arose from the dead with 4.2K words of yara-posting. Yara-yearning, if you will.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The night was surprisingly warm for the Iron Islands, and the salty mist of the beaches hung heavy in the air and clung to the sway of your hips and undone hair. Your hands clutched your silken robe shut as you leisured through the sand, a soothing waft of lavender from your recent bubble bath hitting your nose with a gentle breeze.

You paused at the base of the shore, where the brine nipped at your toes and you tilted your head back, deeply inhaling into your chest. Your eyes slipped shut.

It wasn't often you and your sister were able to visit the islands, but gods above, you had missed it. Queen Yara had earned a special place in Daeneyrs's heart after her proven loyalty to the Dragon Queen, and thus routine visits were necessary to uphold the alliance between the Greyjoys and the remaining Targaryens. Sometimes it felt like you had grown up here, and sometimes the coldness of Pyke felt more familiar to you than anything back home, despite how long it had been since you had returned.

You would never admit it, but something about the sea and the people on this particular side of the world had consumed you during all these years of visits. Something about the people's wildness and the way it mimicked the ocean that mothered the island spoke to you and whispered to you at night and danced on your eyelids in spirals and swirls.

Some other nights, when the whispers never came, you would hold a large shell up to your ear and pray. The beloved gift had always answered you with the melodic pounding of waves against rocks, against ships, and lured you to sleep. In your dreams, you would sink into your deepest desires.

In this realm, much below the surface level of what was true and probable, you would find yourself standing beside an iron throne. This was not unusual for you -- you had been born to stand behind your brother, and then readjusted to beside your sister. Your duty had always been protecting the honor of this seat and whomever presides in it, and yet this integral piece of your mind, heart, body and soul vanished in these moments, and instead, you found yourself for once atop of the throne.

Well, atop of its monarch.

Clawing at the throne, which was not particularly jagged and sharp like the one your sister sat upon, and clawing at the crowned, whose calloused hands curled inside you and rough lips whispered filthy promises to you in a voice that sounded an awful lot like

"Yara!"

You stumbled away from the shore, whose once soothing pulls had now gone ice cold and stabbed at your feet and at hem of your robe. Your hand readjusted the collar of your robe out of instinct, as your sense slowly settled, though your burning cheeks lingered a bit too long.

Turning towards the disturbance, your eyes caught on the closest (and largest) docked ship, whose windows and deck harbored light and celebration. A group of sailors and soldiers drank merrily and called for a straggling participant, who marched towards the boat and waved them off, enjoying the attention in her own way. In this moment, you were grateful that the shadows of the cliffs behind you hid your so very clearly out of place figure.

Your attention followed Yara as she boarded the ship, and despite the distance, you could make out the way they all greeted her with a clasp on the shoulder, pat on the back, or smack on the bottom. The corners of your mouth turned up at the raw, unabashed display of admiration.

Shudders ran down your back and you ignored the way your stomach turned. For a moment, you thought about heading back to the castle. Nauseatingly, you thought about knocking on your sister's door and spilling these secrets to her and beg for direction, a command, anything.

Daenerys was the closest thing you had to a mother, and the urge to crawl into her arms and wait for guidance on this troubling issue consumed you as it always had, but you were a woman now, a delicate one, but blossomed and bled nonetheless, and you had witnessed your own sister's call to these womanly urges, and it was incredibly reminiscent of this pull you felt to the Ironborn Queen.

Your mind wandered back to your arrival this morning.

"It has been so long since I've returned," you said to Daenerys as you marveled over the aged walls of Pyke. Your hand danced across the slotted stone, digging your finger into chipped areas and rubbing your thumb against the in-between space.

Daenerys smiled knowingly, hands clasped softly in front of her. Missendei, Tyrion, and Greyworm trailed closely behind.

"How long has it been?" You murmured, mostly to yourself.

"Not since before the war, my lady," Tyrion added, and you turned to him, nodding with a solemn smile.

"It has been nearly that long since I have seen the rest of the Greyjoys, as well. Not since Theon."

Tyrion and Daenerys nod respectfully, reminiscing on Theon's death and the bravery that presumed it. A small silence ensued.

"I never understood how you have adapted so well to this cold, my lady," Missendei said, sweetly cutting the silence.

"She is a dragon," Daenerys replied, reaching out to brush a bit of her sister's hair back into place. "She provides her own warmth."

The throne room was modest in size but exuberant in its carvings, luxurious enough to suggest status but rugged enough to represent the people it ruled. You couldn't help but admire it all, it being so vastly different from the outright lushness of Mereen or even Dragonstone.

Of course, the architecture was not the only thing you were interested in. You turned your attention to the throne, and immediately stopped. Your sister continued for only a few steps more, taking her place in front of you.

"Yara," Daeneyrs greeted with a warm smile.

Yara strutted forward with an unmatched level of confidence, and you couldn't help but stare at the way her leather tunic hugged her strong shoulders. You were used to Yara not dressing like any other lady you had known, but couldn't help but always think the natural defiance in her pants and boots exuded power and self-assurance. Yara looked somehow more bold and stronger than you had ever seen her, and it was admirable in an unfamiliar, indescribable way.

"My queen," Yara bowed in her own way, a half-smirk ever-present, "It is an honor."

The two clasped arms, and Daenerys smiled before turning to you.

"I'm sure you remember my little sister, Princess Y/N."

Yara's attention followed, and you couldn't help the way you held your breath and stared up at her with widened eyes. It was like you were seeing her for the first time.

"Princess Y/N."

Yara said your name like she was trying it on, but in truth she had always used formalities in this way, especially towards you. In your aw-stricken mind, you'd like to think that her gaze softened a bit. She had never looked at you like this before.

"Your return has been long-awaited."

She outstretched her hand, and you took it with both of your hands, feeling yourself relax into it. Your eyes watered a bit, and you squeezed, unable to avoid the way you beamed up at her.

"I have missed the islands dearly."

Your sister had given in to her own desires, and she had lived to tell the tale. Perhaps you would too.

The ground seemed to push you towards the ship, and by the time your eyes unglossed and you regained clarity, you found yourself standing at the base of the footway. You of course had been on many vessels that belonged to the Iron Fleet, and you knew the people on board rather well, but you couldn't help but feel nervous now. These men were rather drunk, and you knew you probably should have an escort this late. Not even status could always safeguard a lady from the hands of depravity and sin. Stupidly, you grabbed on to the ropes of the ramp and pulled yourself aboard.

Immediately the overwhelming stench of ale and piss cause you to wrinkle your nose.

"Gods above," you whispered to yourself. Though you had been quiet, the sailors very quickly took notice of your presence.

"Princess!" one called, waving at you with his mug of ale. It sloshed over the sides and splashed, narrowly missing you. The men around him jokingly scolded him.

"Come on Ravos, you don't want to ruin her dress," a dark haired, stout man called Yohn slurred.

"Don't look like she's wearing much of a dress to me."

The men turned to you once more, and your ears burned, now with a much more uncomfortable feeling as they eyed you. One coughed and shifted on his feet.

You wrapped your robe tighter, straightening yourself up like you had been taught. You narrowed your eyes slightly, and responded directly to Ravos.

"Where can I find Yara?" You asked, hoping you exuded more authority than the piece of meat you felt like.

Reacting much more appropriately, he turned and pointing towards the North end of the ship.

"Captain's quarters," he grunted, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, and the fifteen or so men stumbled backwards to allow for a path.

Carefully you stepped over puddles of questionable substances and shards of glass, maintaining as much grace and fierceness as you could muster. Behind you, the men resumed their activities, seemingly already over the drunken encounter. You knocked once on the Captain's door, before hurriedly slipping inside, eager to escape the sailors.

As you shut the door and turned to face her, you had to carefully force out a normal respiration rate. Yara was propped up in her chair with her boots resting on the desk, holding her own stein, though her sobriety seemed much more intact.

"Hello, princess."

Yara didn't bother hiding her surprise. She set her stein down and dropped her arms to the ends of her arm rest. A smirk creeped across her face, and she leaned her head back as she very obviously eyed you up and down, legs spreading a bit for a better view. Despite her brute persona, she did seem to try to hide the way she stuttered over the V of your robe.

You noticed anyways.

"A little far from the dressing room, are we?" She nodded at your outfit. You blushed and nodded with a smile. She smiled back and sat up. "You should know better than to walk around alone at night like that, especially here."

"I'm not alone now," you replied softly. Here in the candlelight, she was able to see you fully.

Yara took notice of the way you wrung your hands together, the way your eyes were glued to the loose laces of her tunic, the rose hue of your cheeks and ears, and your long, snow-white hair falling in loose curls around you.

Yara had known you for half a decade at this point. When she first met you, you were a scrawny, timid little girl who watched from Daeneyrs's shadow. To be fair, you were still quite shy, but you were a woman now, not nearly the little bird of a lady that you used to be. Now, in the warm lighting, she could see that these days you were more of a snow leopard than a cub, and you looked almost regal.

For a moment, Yara wondered what you would look like on the throne instead of your sister. Her hands squeezed at her chair at the idea, and she concluded that that was an image that would inspire millions.

Yara's eyes returned to your face, recomposing her commanding demeanor. She shrugged and stood, traipsing leisurely towards you.

Your eyes' followed each other, studying the other until they met. Yara had never looked at you this way, not that you could recall, and the curiosity in her face sent a thrill down your spine and fueled your ego.

"Oh, but I am as much as of a predator as any man out there, princess," Yara countered.

Peculiarly, you stepped forward, taking Yara by surprise at this newfound confidence. She watched you, and noticed something lurking behind your irises, something Yara was very familiar with and could feel exuding off of your body, but ten fold. She knew why you had come.

"And I am a dragon," You murmured, meeting her eyes without hesitation. Up close, you looked even more feral than before, with the sea spray making a wild mess of your hair, and each rock of the boat interrupting your breaths.

Yara backed up to sit on the edge of her desk, and you followed, keeping the distance small but not yet close enough. Yara waited for you to make a move with unusual patience. You raised your hand to caress the open area of her shirt with your palm, then push it aside just a few inches to trace her collarbone with your index and middle finger.

"Are you scared of dragons, Yara?"

"Anyone in their bloody right mind is scared of dragons," she replied, watching your hand as her breathing grew heavy. You giggled, reaching your hand around to cup the space between her ear and neck, letting your thumb rub her jaw.

"Are you scared of me?" You spoke quietly, like it was a secret meant to be kept safe between the two of you.

"I'm hungry for you," she growled, eyes heavy with desire. You felt your core throb in an entirely new way, letting out a small whimper at the feeling.

Finally, Yara reached out, hand splaying across your lower back, where she could finally feel that the robe was the only thing preserving your modesty, and she could've fainted at the realization.

"I've never been with a dragon before," Yara confessed, halfway a joke, yet halfway entirely all too true. You brought up her other hand to truly cup her face, bring her attention to you.

"I've never been with anyone before," You whispered, and for a second Yara could see that familiar timidness she knew of you flicker between the lust clouding your vision. "You are the only person I've ever wanted."

Yara let out a small noise at this. "Then you must be starved."

You nodded, eyes falling to her lips.

"Can I?"

"Please."

The first thing Yara noticed was how warm you are. Your lips against hers were like fire, and your soft whimpers made her want to crawl inside the flames and be burnt alive. You practically fell against her, knees going week, but she grasped you with both hands and held you up.

This alone was like nothing you had ever experienced. Your ears rung from the intensity and your nails dug into Yara's skin ever so slightly, illiciting a gasp from her that you greedily swallowed.

Yara reached back with one hand, pushing herself off to stand, keeping you slotted between her legs. She turned you both, pushing you against the desk until you were sitting atop it now. You raked your hands over her shirt, grasping at it and pulling her as close as you could. Yara put her hands between you and undid the tie to your robe, hurriedly pulling it off your shoulders. She reached under your thighs, lifting you up by them and letting the robe fall on to the floor.

As Yara angled you on to the desk, you propped your arms behind yourself, baring your legs to her. She paused, staring at your bare form and licked her lips.

"Gods below," she growled, running her hands up your body. You shivered as they danced over your thighs and ghosted over your breasts. "You're fucking stunning."

Yara pushed back between your legs. The warmth of her skin against yours and the cold leather of her pants pressing against your bare sex made you moan. Yara shoved her hand back behind your back and laid you down flat.

"Such a pretty cunt," she whispered, tracing her thumb over you. You gasped at the touch, and watched as she brought it up.

"Do you know what this is, sweet girl?" Yara watched the way the wetness glistened on her finger, and you nodded your head.

She grinned, then brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked it clean. You whimpered at the sight, nearly panting now in desperation.

She leaned down to kiss to you and forced her tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the feeling and at the taste, grabbing on to the back of her head and pushing back with your own tongue. Yara groaned into your mouth and grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss, if that was even possible.

Yara's scent and touch and taste consumed you, feeding into every one of your senses and bleaching them until all that was left was her.

Finally, Yara put her hand against your chest and pushed you back against the desk.

"Be a good girl and open your legs a bit more for me," she commanded, and without a single underlying thought, you obeyed, gasping at the way your stomach turned at the petname. You watched with slightly parted lips, panting, as Yara sunk to her knees, staring into your eyes so intensely that you couldn't even think about looking away.

She settled between your legs and brought her hands to rest up on your thighs, just in case. You pushed up on your elbows, trying to see what she was going to do, when she pressed a firm kiss to your sex. You groaned, cheeks going pink, and Yara reacted similarly.

She kissed again, this time open mouthed, and gently sucked on your growing bud. You could feel your cunt pulsing, and your thighs quivered around Yara's head, but she held firm.

She licked stripes around your clit, teasing you before giving it a direct swipe that had you balling your fists and curling your toes.

"Yara!" You gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, because the voices outside of the room suddenly quieted. You froze, looking down at her in panic, but she didn't share the same concern.

Instead, Yara chuckled, murmured your own name against your cunt almost tauntingly, and without any warning, eased her tongue inside of you. Your whole body stuttered, and you slammed your hand against the desk. Yara gripped your legs even tighter and repeated the motion, and you couldn't find it in you to keep quiet, not with the way Yara was working you like she was eating her last meal.

"Fuck," you groaned, back arching. You head fell back, curls falling with it, and Yara swore she had never seen anything more stunning or satisfying. Yara's own cunt throbbed impossibly hard, but she continued her merciless assault, drawing curse after curse from you, until Yara was certain the men outside knew exactly what was going on and with whom.

Yara stood and pulled your hips closer to the edge of the desk. Holding you by your hips, she rocked her hips against your core, and you gasped at the new sensation. You grabbed her shoulder, holding yourself up.

Yara cradled your face with one hand, and you buried yourself in her arm, ear pressed against her chest, whining and whimpering. She pressed kisses into your neck, nipping at it and bruising it. Slowly, Yara stopped her hips, and just as you started to get question it, she spoke.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?" She teased, and you cried out, nodding desperately into her arm. Yara laughed, and then when you felt her middle and ring finger prodded at your entrance, you clenched down, gasping.

"Relax, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing right behind your ear. "I'm going to take good care of you."

You shuddered against her, but tried your best to settle down. Yara started pushing in again, and you clenched again out of instinct, this time clamping down on her fingers. She groaned into your ear.

"You're so tight," she whispered, and you pulsed around her fingers, whining. Once she was entirely inside, Yara curled her fingers, and your whole body reacted.

Your legs wrapped around her, holding her in place, and your fingers dug into her lower back while you saw stars. You bit down on her arm, at least still attempting to keep quiet, and Yara moaned loudly. When you finally loosened you grip on her arm, she pulled your face back by your hair.

"Does that feel good?" She whispered against your lips, and you panted, pressing kisses between each breath.

"Yes, y-yes," You cried out, and she pressed a knowing kiss to your temple.

"I'm going to move them," she warned, and you nodded, eyes glassed over and lips parted. She kissed your fiercely, then held eye contact as she started pumping her fingers. You groaned loudly, then started moving your hips to meet her hand. As your body adjusted to the foreign feeling, you grew confident.

The sound coming from it was obscene, and you pulled Yara down to sloppily kiss her. Yara pushed harder, and so did you. Soon, you developed a rythym, and you could feel a pressure building up in your stomach. Yara glanced down at her hand, then back up at you, eyes unbelievably filled with even more lust. You followed her gaze and practically melted at the sight.

Thick, hot cream spilled out of you and on to Yara's hand, and gods above, her hand was huge. Her palm practically framed your whole cunt, and the sight made you dizzy.

Yara flicked her thumb over your clit, and you choked, grabbing her neck to hold you up from falling backwards. Your whole spine tingled, and your vision started to blur.

"Y-Yara, I'm," you gasped, but you weren't entirely sure what was going on. "I'm, I think I'm gonna -"

"Cum, sweetheart," Yara groaned. "You're going to cum for me." She pumped her fingers harder, and you sobbed into her arms, feeling your stomach ball up tighter, tighter, tighter, and then burst.

You screamed into her shoulder as your cunt gushed over her hand, and Yara moaned your name into your ear at the feeling. Your hips stuttered, but Yara kept pumping until you were shaking uncontrollably and babbling nonsense. Then, she eased out of you.

She tilted your head up with one hand, then brought the other soiled one between the two of you. You looked up with watery eyes and red cheeks, and watched as Yara licked your cum off of a few of her fingers. Then, she prodded your lips with the remaining two, and you opened your mouth, accepting it gratefully.

You pushed her fingers farther and farther down your throat, chasing that high and letting the bittersweet flavor swirl and cloud your taste and mind. You looked up at Yara through wet lashes, and she swore she could've creamed herself.

"Fucking hell," she groaned, and pulled her fingers out of your mouth, worried you'd probably suffocate yourself on them if she let you work at them any more.

You coughed and gasped, and regained your breath just before she pressed a firm kiss against your mouth. When she pulled away, you stared at her with wide eyes and she panted down at you. You couldn't pull a single word to say off your tongue.

She kissed your temple, then the side of your head, and rested her forehead against yours. "Gods below, are you sure that was your first time?"

You nodded breathlessly, swallowing thickly.

"You fuck like a-"

"- I want to do it again."

Yara pulled back, studying your face. Her face was expressionless, and for a moment during the silence, you were worried you had angered her, or somehow shamed her skill. Then, the corners of her mouth curved into a smirk.

"You want to do it again?" She asked, tilting her head until her lips were almost slotted against yours. You nodded your head.

"Is that okay?" You asked, no shyness left to spare.

Yara laughed loudly and kissed you. She stepped away, running her hands through her hair.

"Yes, fucking absolutely," she assured. She reached down and grabbed your robe. "But not in here, I have other things to show you."

You quickly got dressed. Your body shook, so Yara helped you with it extensively, and kept you steady. You looked up at her quizzically. "Other things like what?"

She grinned wickedly before pulling you up into her arms, one arm under yours and the other under your knees.

"You'll see, princess," she assured.

In her brutish style, Yara kicked open the door to her quarter's. The soldiers remaining on deck went absolutely silent, staring at the two of you with both terrified and amused expressions.

Yara coughed loudly and you buried your face into her shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

"If you gentleman will excuse me, me and the lady are going to retire for the night."

[kingofthe-egirls]

LOVE CONFESSION: LUFFY x Y/N

Summary: basically, y/n goes to Luffy’s cabin in the middle of the night to confess they have…needs they want him to fill ☠️

(cw: kissing, sex, fluff, haki, food mention)

(a/n: hi hi hi! it's been a while since i wrote a standalone fic. welcome back! i love him. so much. also my goal was to write over 2k words, which i did! proud of me proud of me luffy would also be proud of me)

Songs: "Green Light" by Lorde

words: 3.4k

You twist your fingers, hovering outside your captain's quarters.

He's snoring, quietly, you can hear through the door. Almost giving up, you roll in your lips and step back. The wooden deck creaks beneath your feet, and the snoring stops.

Shit.

"Whaddya need?" Luffy asks sleepily, hanging on the door with half-closed eyes. Pillow lines crease the side of his face with no scar.

This is stupid, you think. There’s no way he’ll say yes to this. He’s just affectionate with you cuz you’re his friend, he’s probably not even into sex in the first place—

“Y/n?”

Luffy asks you, tilting his scruffy head. His raven hair is all mushy from sleep. You want to weave your fingers in it and pull.

“So…,” you start, clearing your throat. Then, you lift your chin up and plant both your feet on the floor. You’re a Strawhat crew member, and “cowardice” is not in your vocabulary. “I want your help.”

Luffy purses his lips, curious. “Hm?” He asks, “Help with what?”

You look around furtively, glancing around the deck for any stragglers. Nope, seems like everyone’s gone to bed. You twist your lips.

“Can I come in?”

****

Now, you’re seated on the captain’s soft (messy) bed.

“Whaddya need, y/n?” Luffy is smiling at you with one big, warm hand on your knee. You’re both sitting crosslegged while the dark ocean waves crash outside. The moonlight trickles in like quicksilver through the porthole window.

“So…,” you start again lamely, face hot and fingers wrestling in your lap. “D’ya remember saying you’d help me with—anything?”

You gaze up at him, awkward as all fuck, to see him nod. “Course!” He boasts, hands balled into fists. His knuckles are blistered, still bruised from his latest fight. “I’ll help my friends with anything! ‘Specially if it’s you,” he leans in with a monkey’s grin.

You shy away, dazzled.

“Why won’t y/n look at me?” Luffy asks with a serious pout in his voice.

“Scared,” you whisper, knotting your hands into fists, yourself. He skims his fingertips over your knuckles, delicately tracing the veins along the back of your hand. His voice is soft, now, lower.

“Y/n is braver than anyone!” Luffy reminds you, ducking his head so you meet his eyes. They twinkle inside his sweet face. “Whatcha scared of, anyway?”

You snort, “Scared of you saying no to me.”

Luffy frowns. “Unless it’s food, I won’t say no!”

You shake your head. “Ya haven’t heard what it is, yet.”

“Don’t need to!” He blows up his cheeks, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You smile, and reach forward to ruffle his hair. You straighten it, a little. So it’s not smushed to one side anymore. He whines. “Tell meeeeeee!!!”

“Okay, okay, fine!” You throw your hands up into the air. Might as well say it: now or never.

You cross your arms.

“I need your help…,” you hedge, swallowing through a now-dry throat, “With cumming.”

He blinks. “Coming where?”

“In bed, Luffy.”

He sits for a second, before the lightbulb clicks. “Oh!” He grins, proud of himself, “You’re horny!”

“Ugh,” you drop your head in your hands. “Not just horny,” you admit miserably, “All I can do is think of you.”

He stops.

Breath hangs in the air, suspended for one, two, three—

“Like…when you’re in bed?”

He asks with his head tilted to the side, like a crow analyzing a puzzle.

You nod.

He grins: a slow, syrupy thing that engulfs half his face. He flicks his eyes up and down your form, with a heat you barely recognize. You shift, under his hungry gaze.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He giggles, leaning forward to cup your jaw in his hand. “I can help ya with that,” he says, low. His voice is all gravelly, now that his lips are two inches from your face. You close the distance, eagerly.

Kissing Luffy is magnetizing.

You’re stuck in place: rooted to his lips by some inescapable force. Is that—is that his haki, pulling you in?

Red flickers at the edges of your vision, eyes half-closed from kissing him. He runs his hands up your arms, squeezing gently. He groans into your mouth.

“Tastes good,” he mutters, fingers going to card through your hair. You close your eyes at the sensation.

“Thanks,” you breathe, “You too.”

If it is his haki freezing you in place, you’re more than happy to comply. He must sense it somehow, because the overwhelming pressure loosens up, slightly. You giggle against his lips.

“Afraid I’ll run away?”

He bites his lip, caught. “Sorry,” he scratches the back of his head, “Never really done this before.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised. He kisses so well—you thought for sure he’s had at least some practice. You tell him as much, and he laughs.

“Nope! Just you,” he nuzzles into your face. “And myself, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, running your hands through his hair. “I like kissing you.”

He beams, and wraps his arms around you. He lifts you into his lap, and rubs your hips against his clothed cock. You gasp at his daring.

“Wh-what did ya wanna do?” You ask, terrified. Luffy giggles, looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Whatever ya need.”

****

“Take whatcha need from me,” he murmurs, “Make yourself feel good on my cock.”

He is giving himself to you, wholly and completely, with no strings attached.

He rocks against you gently, hardness already poking your leg. You wrap your arms around him, and nod.

“Mkay.”

He grins, happy to help, and lifts you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He stumbles a bit, but makes his way over to the wall. He presses your back against the cabin wall, nosing into your hair. He places a kiss along your collarbone.

“Smells nice,” he whispers, rubbing his nose along your cheek. You shiver, wrapping your limbs around him tighter.

“Thanks, captain,” you whimper, already desperate and hungry with need. Luffy hums, readjusting himself so he can press his clothed cock against your heat. His eyebrow twitches as you moan.

“Hah, is that whatcha needed? Hm, pretty girl?” He tilts his head, rubbing his hips against yours. Your pussy spasms, involuntarily. You need him inside you, now.

“Mhmm,” you moan, letting your head thunk down onto his shoulder. He giggles.

“Shishishi,” he adjusts, lifting you up higher. He reaches down with one hand to unzip his shorts, and push your own panties to the side. “S’okay if I fuck you like this?”

You nod, uncontrollably shaking from desire. He takes pity on you, and slowly starts to press his cockhead against your entrance. You hiss.

“Fuck yes, Luffy—,”

“Captain,” he corrects, sharply, “It’s Captain Luffy, for you.”

“Yes, captain!” You breathe, letting your muscles melt in release. His cock pushes deeper inside you, and you moan. “More, please?”

“Hm,” he cocks his head, running a strong hand over your shoulders and down your arm. He nuzzles into your hand, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. He kisses your fingertips, before meeting your gaze with a wicked grin. “Have you been good for me?”

“Mhmm!” You nod, childish, wanting only ever more of him inside you.

Luffy, however, doesn’t mind teasing you and instead of fucking you hard he opts to keep stroking your entrance with his tip. He shoots spasms through you, and only giggles as your thighs quiver around his waist. He pecks a kiss onto the tip of your nose.

“Say please.”

You gasp, already teased past your fucking limit, and start babbling praises for your Captain Luffy to smile at. “Please, captain! Please captain fuck me, I need you so bad you’re so fucking hot pleasepleaseplea—,”

He cuts you off with a sharp thrust of his hips, your begging now a gasp as you feel all of him inside you at once.

“Fuck, Luffy!”

“Hey,” he frowns, pulling back to squeeze at your tit. He harshly thumbs at your nipple, and you hiss. “Bad girl.”

He starts fucking up into you hard and fast, catching your breaths with his mouth in sloppy, eager kisses. You moan, fluttering walls squeezing around the length of his hard cock. You never thought it would feel this good—

“Hey,” he commands, a strike of his haki flickering around the room. The lamplight goes out for a second, before coming back on. He bites at your neck, letting out a gruff moan. He slows his hips, now languidly thrusting into you at a maddening drawl. You whimper, banging loose fists against his shoulders.

“Captain…?” You beg, letting him see the pleasure in your half-lidded eyes. He regards you with a pirate’s smirk, eyeing you like a piece of golden treasure. You bite your lip.

“What is it, slut?”

Your mouth falls open, shocked. You stammer, trying unsuccessfully to find the words to describe the utterly ruinous sensation of having your captain (and best friend) call you such a dirty name. You wanna hear it again.

“Cmon, slut,” he gifts you with another title, “Speak up.”

All you manage is a groan, before needily whining a hazy, “Faster?”

He giggles, grinning at you like the devil, before speeding up his hips and slamming into you with reckless force. He bites his own bottom lip, gripping your ass with both of his strong, sure hands. A raspy moan leaves his lips, decorating the skin of your shoulder he breathes it into. You tighten your arms around his neck, letting him lazily lick the sensitive spot below your ear.

“S’good, baby,” he praises you, lifting up to claim your lips in another kiss. His cock is pulsing inside you now, all the veins and all the length helping push you toward a quivering orgasm.

He sees it on your face, feels it in your clenching walls, and laughs. “Atta girl!” He speeds up, smiling like hell as he rams into you from below. Your voice comes out cracked and broken, not caring who hears your screaming praises.

“Fuck, Lu—fuck, captain!” You somehow catch yourself in mid-orgasm, but not before he lands a surprisingly hard hit onto your rear as you gasp, and then whine, as you realize your cresting wave has passed you by.

Luffy slows down.

“How are you, baby?” He gently pulls out of you, letting your feet fall back to the earth. He steadies you with his hands on your shoulders, while you shift back and forth on wobbly legs. He ducks to make you meet his eyes. They’re grey, like clouds in morning light. You shake your head.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, all trace of his punishment gone. He tickles the sides of your face with his fingertips, sticking out his tongue in a funny face. He nuzzles at your nose, cooing little sounds of encouragement and praise, until you’re a giggling mess beneath him.

“There!” He says, proudly straightening up. He fixes his straw hat atop his head, from where it’d gone skewed while he fucked you.

“Thanks, Luffy.”

He frowns down at you. “We’re not done.”

Your face lights up, your forgotten orgasm still pulsing between your legs. Your clit is aching.

“Ya wanted Captain ta make ya cum, right? Have you cum yet?”

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

“What kind of captain would I be if I didn’t satisfy ya, hah?” He tilts his head, cheeky, before leading you back to the bed with one arm. He snakes it around your waist, setting you down gently with your knees spread.

He sits down with his face between your thighs.

You shiver, already nervous, before he pushes his hat back without ceremony, and dives into your cunt facefirst.

****

Licking and slurping sounds fill the captain’s quarters, the air now musky and filled with the scent of sex. The summer air clings to your skin, humid and muggy as Luffy eats you out.

“C-can we open a window?” You complain, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. It comes away slick with sweat.

Luffy kneels up, springing to the porthole without a second thought. You see his chin (and cheeks) glistening with slick, your own wet shining on his handsome face.

He opens the window, and blessed cool air wafts in with a breeze. You sigh, dragging your hands through ruined hair. Luffy waltzes back over to you, searing your skin with his fiery gaze. He licks his lips.

“Can I fuck ya again?”

You nod, pushing back on the bed to make room. He lies down on top of you, pressing your body into the mattress, held down firmly by his weight. You snuggle up under him, grinning softly. His mouth parts in awe.

“There it is,” he croons, leaning down to kiss your appled cheeks, “There’s my baby’s smile.”

You arch an eyebrow, trying to hide the butterflies in your chest. “Your baby?”

He looks up at you, confused. His half-hard cock is still poking you in the thigh. You wriggle, under him.

He places a hand on your hip, keeping you still. His eyebrows are furrowed down over his face. “Course,” he says, “Ya didn’t think I’d do this for just anyone, didja?”

You stare, wide-eyed and dumbfounded. “I-I thought you were just…being a good friend!”

Luffy frowns, still pressing down into you with his full weight. He supports himself with one elbow sinking into the mattress beside your head. He regards you with a deadly calm.

“Nuh uh,” he says, firmly shaking his head, “I wanna help you.”

You blink.

He strokes your temple with his thumb, softly smiling down at you. His voice is hoarse, as he whispers, “So, my flirting hasn’t been working after all, huh.”

You pause, already panic-stricken and out of breath from the turns in this conversation. You feel Luffy’s haki broiling behind his shoulder blades. You wonder if he’s going to sprout wings.

You reach up to stroke his forehead, delicately tracing the slight line of his widow’s peak. The dark hair is soft against your fingertips.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

He pouts. “Been trying to…,” he purses his lips out like he’s embarrassed. You giggle: you can’t help it. He slaps your shoulder lightly. “Don’t laugh!” He complains.

“Sorry, sorry,” you shake your head, cupping his cheek with one hand. “You’re cute, is all.”

He grins, wide and ferocious, before leaning down to kiss you again. His tongue pushes past your lips, and you let him in. He tastes like you.

Your mouths slide softly together, moans creeping their way up your throats, and tumbling into the salty air of his bedroom.

“Like you,” he says, pressing his forehead into yours. His voice is raspy. Hoarse. He swallows. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you too, Luffy,” he closes his eyes at the sound of his name, and you hum. You trace your thumb below his cheek, softly squishing at his baby face. “You’re pretty.”

He kisses you again, beaming his gorgeous smile directly against your lips. You mmph! in surprise. “You’re pretty,” he corrects you, “But thanks!”

You giggle, charmed by his boyishness, and let him cuddle you into his chest as he pleases. Luffy smells like salt and cinnamon, and sorta like weed. You’ll have to ask him for a hit, later.

“Welcome,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips against his spine, still left bare from when you’d ripped his shirt off earlier. “Wanna fuck me now?”

“No,” he pouts, sitting up. He supports himself on one elbow, regarding you seriously. “I wantcha to be mine, first.”

“‘M yours!”

You blurt it out, no thoughts needed, before burying your face in his chest. He giggles, and wraps you in a double-rubber hug. “Mine!” He squeals happily, rolling you both over so you’re no longer beneath him. He lets you crawl over him instead, straddling his hips with your thighs. His arms are still double-wrapped around you.

You wiggle your hips into his a bit, smiling at his breathy moan. His fingertips stroke the soft skin of your back. You shiver, arching slightly beneath his touch. Luffy slowly unspools his limbs from around you. The ship rocks gently in the waves.

"How did you flirt with me?" You ask, basking in the afterglow of your unexpected (yet long awaited) tryst.

"Food...," Luffy trails off sheepishly. A slight honey blush tints his squishy cheeks. You poke at one, softly.

"Sharing your food with me was flirting?" You smile, beaming inside at the thought of how he's been handing you sly snackies at every meal. A drumstick here, a potato there, a cookie when Sanji wasn't looking. All affections you had accepted keenly and wholeheartedly: falling farther in love with your captain as you did. "I liked it," you admit. And then, softer, "Special."

Luffy grins. "So it did work!" He leaps off the bed, sending you careening off the side. He pumps both fists into the air, cheering himself on. "I was right!"

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, pushing yourself off the floor. You're used to his antics, by now. "What else did you try?"

Luffy spins back around to you, grinning like a mad scientist. His torso is bare, and his shorts are still unbuttoned. They hang low around his hips, the sharp line of his V proudly disappearing into the waistband. "Sunsets!" He declares, fists on his hips in victory.

"I liked sunsets, too," you giggle, and motion for him to take your hand. You’ve thrown on your clothes again, haphazard shirt dress half-buttoned and uneven over your knees.

Luffy lets you lead him, following along after you onto the deck and onto the grassy lawn. Someone has a light on in the crow's nest.

Stars burst overhead, shimmering in their rivers of space-dust like silver ribbons. The midnight sky is deep indigo, and all the constellations Nami knows how to name twinkle like firelights.

You breathe in deep lungfuls of fresh, night air. The wind is cool and crisp, even in the summer. Fireflies flicker around the tangerines.

Luffy steps up beside you, squeezing your hand softly. He strokes his thumb along your knuckles, and you hum. "Sorry for not cumming," you say, staring at the stars.

Luffy tugs on your hand, and you stare at him, instead. His eyes are dark, hazy in the firelight. The campfire still glows red with embers.

"Sorry for what? Not your fault," he slips out, casually, "But I didn't cum either, so it's even anyway. Is that okay?"

He scuffs his heel on the ground, and you start walking along the edge of the grass. He skips a stray stone over to you, and you kick it down the way. It skitters across the lawn, bouncing a couple times, before landing at the base of the farthest tree. A firefly winks at its roots.

"Not like it was our last time," he grins at you, tugging on your hand. You skip a little, stumbling, but he catches you with one hand pressed to your lower stomach. His strength is terrifying.

"Careful, princess," he teases you, and you almost stumble again. As it is, you open and close your mouth like a fish. He snickers, fully pleased with himself. He swipes under his nose with his finger.

"Okay, king," you counter, trying to ruffle his hair, but he ducks out of the way. You don't miss the faint blush tinged on his cheeks, though.

"Shishishi, I like that!" He straightens up again, tugging on your arm to pull you away from the trees. His arm stretches out long, space elongating between you, before he snaps you back in to hold in his arms. He shifts you around so you're piggyback, and you giggle.

"Let's go steal something from the fridge," you whisper, and Luffy gasps in love and adoration. He turns over his shoulder to you with stars in his eyes.

"I love you," he says, unabashedly. You swallow, and nod.

"I love you too, Captain Luffy."

"Like, really really love you."

You snicker, burying your face in the bare skin of his shoulder. His arms flex from where they hold your thighs. "I really, really love you, too. 'M in love with you, Luffy." You stroke your fingertips along his chest, from where your arms are wrapped around his neck. His black hair tickles your cheek. He hefts you up higher in his arms, smiling with his eyes crinkled shut.

"Good! I'm in love with you, too. Sorry I didn't tell ya sooner."

"Me too," you mumble, and Luffy heads off to the kitchen, with you in tow.

****

[madhatterbri]

New Deal | HOOK

Summary: Y/N's friend betrays her to the Senerchia family.

Author's Note: @99hook Thanks for everything, boo. When we finally meet, I won't throw your ass into the ocean. ❤️😂 When is that next part coming out?

Tag List: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @multi-fandom-things730

Pure fiction ❤️

"They won't give us an extension, you know. The Senerchias. They said they've been too lenient with us and don't want people to think they are getting soft," your friend whispered from behind the counter that was once her family's restaurant. Almost everything was sold to try and pay off their debts, but they couldn't come up with the money.

"Why are you whispering?" You asked with the same soft tone. With no customers around, it wasn't like anyone could hear. She nodded towards a corner of the room. A camera was pointed at them. The look of fear in her eyes made you realize one thing. The Senerchias had the place bugged.

The Senerchias were known all throughout New York. They helped the community by giving out money to those who needed it. They expected to be paid back by the agreed upon deadline. What many didn't know was the extremes they would go to get paid back.

"I hear the boss is an ass, but maybe you could talk to his son. You went to school with him. Maybe things will be different," you spoke hopefully. You knew the answer the moment she frowned at you.

"Tyler was the one that told us they were coming sometime this week. He didn't seem too thrilled to see me, either. I guess he won't be coming to the high school reunion. I'm wondering if I'll even make it," she gulped.

A car's headlights shined through the windows. The lights turned off as soon as the car shut off. Your friend gulped yet smiled at you. She took out her phone from her pocket. Her mouth dropped open when an idea popped in her head.

"Do you mind letting them in? I just have to go out back and make a quick phone call to my uncle to let him know they are here," she spoke. "It'll take like a few seconds,"

You nodded, and your friend hugged you tightly. She told you thank you and slipped out the back door. Two men appeared at the front door. One was bald with a snake tattooed over his right ear. He was bigger than the other one and appeared to be the muscles of the group. The second man was balding. He seemed more like the talker of the two. Both men wore suits with gold chains. The man with the snake tattoo was shaking the handle impatiently to be let in.

"Coming!" You called out, trying to sound confident. Your legs felt like jello as you made your way towards the door. Nothing could be heard except for the loud pounding in your heart. You opened the door wide enough to let them in.

"Look at this, Enzo. This dude let his niece take the hit. That's some punk shit," the man with the snake tattoo scowled.

"No one wants to mess with the boss. Man probably hiding somewhere shaking like a leaf," Enzo chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not the niece. She stepped out back to call her uncle to let him know you were here," you informed them and pointed to the back door.

"Just go check it out, Cobra. Ty gave them clear instructions yesterday," Enzo shooed the other away. Cobra grumbled about how this better not be a trick as he walked towards the back.

He opened the wooden back door and stepped out. A blast of the cold night air filled the restaurant. Seconds ticked away. It felt like an eternity of waiting for the man to come back. When he did, your friend was nowhere to be found.

"Either you are making up the story or your friend crossed ya, which is it?" Cobra asked roughly and slammed the door behind him.

"I'm not lying. She said she was going to step out to call her uncle. I've been friends with her since middle school. I believed her," you whispered the last part. A sudden realization hit on how stupid that must sound to them. They probably didn't trust many people.

Cobra nodded towards Enzo at the front door. In one quick movement, the man grabbed your wrist tightly. The force made your teeth clench and hiss. You were sure he was going to leave a bruise.

"You are coming with us," Enzo instructed and led you towards the waiting car. A man sat in the driver seat, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"I'm not the niece," you begged and tried to remove his grasp from your wrist.

"And my misses made roast tonight, and I ain't letting it get cold," Cobra announced and opened the back door while running to the other side. The man sat in the back seat. Your captor shoved you in the car before sitting next to you. You now sat between the two men involved in your kidnapping.

"We will make it easy for you," Cobra smiled and pulled out a gun. You gasped and looked at him with fear in your eyes. He placed the barrel to your head. "Play a stupid game, and you'll win a stupid prize, capiche?"

"And please don't do anything stupid," Enzo sighed and looked down at his suit. "These are quite expensive, and I'm banned in all of the dry cleaning shops in New York and New Jersey,"

Your mouth opened to speak, yet nothing came out. Tears quickly pooled in your eyes. You closed your eyes and nodded quickly.

"They get softer every year," Cobra grumbled and rolled his eyes.

The car ride was not as expected. The driver hummed a lively tune, much to the annoyance of the two men sitting with you. You tried to keep quiet. Mentally remembering anything and everything just in case you were able to escape.

The car ride ended by some old abandoned buildings. Broken glass littered the floor, and graffiti riddled the buildings. A limousine, clearly out of place given the area, was parked. The driver stopped the car and stepped out. He leaned against the car and started to smoke. Enzo was the next to vacate the vehicle. Cobra followed and dragged you out.

A tall man with brown hair stepped out of the waiting limousine. He wore a suit similar to the ones that the other men wore. A gold chain with a cross hung from his neck. He took a few steps towards them and crossed his arms. Something was clearly wrong.

"Here she is, Ty," Enzo announced. "Where do you want us to put her for that ransom video to uncle?"

Tyler moved as if looking around you to see someone else. He had a scowl on his face. A vein popped out to show his annoyance at his men. He wanted to send Anthony, Dante, and Darius for the job, but his dear old dad insisted these fools.

"This isn't the right girl," he spoke calmly, yet his words were drenched in anger. His nostrils flared. "I gave you a picture of the girl. Get rid of this one somewhere and get me the right one,"

Tyler started walking back to the limousine. He muttered under his breath about the incompetence of others.

"Done," Cobra shrugged and pulled out his gun. The barrel was once again pressed to your body. You felt the cold ring of the metal against your temple.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You begged and threw your hands up. "I'll help you get her,"

Tyler stopped and turned to look at you. He mulled your words over before entertaining your idea. Hell, you were even shocked that you would help them. Then again your friend deserved it.

"Pretty dangerous proposition you are making today. Making a deal with the mafia. Are you sure you are up for it?"

"She betrayed me. She and I hang out all the time. I can just come up with a lie," you assured him.

"Forget the girl. Give me the uncle, and I will let you live, deal?" He asked and reached out his hand to you. You stared at his hand briefly. You wondered how many lives it had taken before.

"Deal," you answered and shook his hand. For someone so rough they were surprisingly soft.

[outerbankies]

so I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep, and I'll watch you forget me like I used to feel you breathe..." for the prompts

new light: last kiss

new light masterlist a/n: thank you for sending this in!! the 2k prompt celly slooowly trucks along. this takes place in part 9 of the og series!

When Rafe told Topper that Ward had called him home, he should’ve expected this exact scenario.

And yet, it’s still somehow a surprise when Topper and Kelce pull up to Tannyhill on Friday evening, mere hours since Rafe even pulled in himself. It was an exhausting drive home, and an even more exhausting talking-to from his father afterward. Add onto that that he hadn’t been sleeping much at all in the past week, and Rafe felt like half-dead climbing into Topper’s Jeep.

“Lodge?” Topper had asked. 

Rafe had shrugged, looking away with intention before he could see the look his friends exchanged between themselves. But the view out the window was no better when Topper drove right by your house. 

You were everywhere here.

Rafe knew coming home would be taxing. But it was like he could feel you in the stubborn humidity still hanging around in October almost as clearly as he had felt you in California only a week ago. In June, you’d insisted on leaving a window open to sleep because you missed the sound of cicadas in the summer, and Rafe would wake up sweating buckets to find you sleeping peacefully to his side, bodies pressed so closely together he could feel your chest moving when you breathed.

And it was he could hear your laughter in the sound of the ocean waves crashing on his drive right by the water, all the way out to Figure 8. The salt in the air, the chaotic noises of the marina. 

After a few drinks, Rafe figures he’ll probably be able to see your outline walking through town.

Topper’s whistle is shrill in his ear, and Rafe really needs to do a better job pretending he’s alright if he’s going to make it through this weekend without spilling anything. 

“Dude. What’s with you?” Rafe is asked. Even Kelce, never not known to fill an awkward silence, is looking at him silently from across the table. 

“Nothing,” Rafe decides sipping down the rest of his IPA until its foam. Wordless eye contact with Charlie at the bar, and another one’s coming.

“Old man give it to you pretty good today?” Kelce asks.

“Kinda,” Rafe answers. He can’t really remember at this point. It was a lot of the same; a lot about you. His distraction, his hindrance. His everything.

“Alright then. So… shots?” Topper asks hesitantly. Rafe shrugs, his go-to for the night he supposes, and Kelce nods emphatically; Topper’s taking that as good enough, venturing to the bar. Rafe watches him try and fail to cut through a pack of tourists with no luck. Tourists, at Rafe’s dingy bar on The Cut, this late in the season.

“Rafe.” Kelce says, and it sounds like it might have been the third or fourth try.

“Sorry, dude,” Rafe replies. “You know, I think I’m going home after this round. I’m exhausted—been driving all fuckin’ day.”

“No, no worries,” Kelce says. “I was just asking if you saw McCall’s story the other night.”

Rafe sees Kelce’s phone in his hand and averts his eyes as quickly as he can, squandering the urge to start choking on his spit by loudly clearing his throat. He trains his focus on his empty pint instead, dragging the glass and its condensation back and forth across the table, wondering when his new one—or better yet, that round of shots—will materialize. “No. I haven’t. You follow McCall?”

“Yeah, she’s hot. And shit was so funny, dude. Y/n/n was hammered last night,” Kelce laughs.

Rafe should’ve know that’s where this was heading—why else would Kelce bring that up. But he’s 15 again. Then 19, 20 and 21, too. All those ages in between. He’s every age he ever was before he finally got you to fall in love with him, dreading the moment Kelce inevitably brought up your name. 

Things were a little different this time. Rafe’s not an embarrassed and lovesick teenager willing his blush to creep back down his neck. He supposes he’s more of a man now, jaded and stuck walking around his hometown like an open wound, while you’re out with your friends. But he guesses he is, too. 

He should be happy, shouldn’t he? That you seem to be having fun? He’d ended it. You’d agreed. Even though he could tell you didn’t want to, you had. In way, you’d let him go, too. You’d made a choice just like he had, and maybe it wasn’t getting you down as much as it was him. He’d broken your heart, and you’d deleted your photos together and went out drinking with your friends. 

God, where are those shots?

“I didn’t even know Y/n still drank like that,” Kelce continues. “Not without you around anyway. I’m talking senior ditch day levels of shitfaced, if you remember that.” 

You blacked out on Kildare’s senior ditch day, Rafe remembers it well. Because he’d been the designated driver for Matteo’s party, which meant he was the one who had to then decide which friend was sober enough to watch the rest of your friends while he got you out of there, safely out of that house and into your own, all without losing it on whatever guy from the lacrosse team had got you that way and whatever friend of Rafe’s hadn’t been watching it closely enough. Rafe had been the one to hand you off to your younger brother, praying to god Dylan wouldn’t tell and make Rafe complicit in your parents’ future disdain. And he’d been the one to receive an embarrassed text from you the next day. And he’d been the one who didn’t care, just glad you were okay. That Rafe could never fathom sharing a first kiss with you, but the last one would make a lot more sense to him.

“Yeah, well. Not really my problem anymore,” he snaps, before he can decide to do otherwise, residual anger from that day toppling over the mess of emotions he already was.

Kelce rolls his eyes. “Please. You were making her your problem before she ever even was. And I’ll drink to that, actually—I wonder where those shots—”

“I broke up with her.”

Kelce cracks a grin, letting out a surprised laugh. A few seconds go by, and the grin falls. “I know you’re not joking about that, Rafe.”

A sad country songs takes over on the speakers, and Rafe hides his face in his hands, unable to bear the look on Kelce’s face when it finally dawns on him. It was hard enough around the only others who knew, and Rafe would honestly prefer his roommates in Georgia were still as oblivious as Kelce had been a few seconds ago, and as Topper still is at the bar right now. He’d tried to keep it that way, for a while at least, but it didn’t take long after Graham picked him up from the airport for his best friend to figure it out. 

Graham must have passed it on to Sawyer and Cody soon after, because he didn’t get a second of normalcy before the kid gloves came out. Those guys didn’t even know you, hadn’t even seen Rafe around you save for grainy FaceTimes over the summer, the ones Rafe had cut off in favor of giving you his undivided attention. He can’t believe he was even nervous at the idea of you meeting them at this point—he’d give anything to stress over something so idiotic now.

But Kelce knew you, better than he knew Rafe or maybe just the same. And Rafe didn’t know what to make of Kelce having no idea of what had happened, indication you’d told him as much as Rafe had. When his friends showed up at Tannyhill today, he’d half expected the death glare he’s getting right now when Rafe picks his head up again.

“Say it again.”

“Kelce,” Rafe groans, pained.

“Say it again,” he presses. “Say it one more time, Rafe, and I’ll know you’re serious.”

“I broke up with her,” he says. “We broke up.”

“You broke up with her?” Kelce repeats. “Or you broke up?”

“Whoa.” 

Topper’s reappeared, a flight of shots in his hands that Rafe is shocked actually make it onto the table and don’t smash all over the sticky ground. 

“Whoa,” Topper repeats dumbly. “What? Who broke up with who?”

“I don’t know, Top,” Kelce says, scooting his stool back, the feet scraping loudly on the same sticky floor. “‘Cause I’m having trouble understanding, too.”

“Can you not be so fucking dramatic?” Rafe sneers, picking the shot glass closest to him and downing it without a thought. He downs the second closest, too, just for good measure. 

“I’m gonna call her right now,” Kelce warns, his phone already in his hand. “You have one more chance to tell me this is the dumbest fucking joke you’ve ever told.”

“Guys,” Topper says hesitantly. He glances between Rafe and the only remaining shot, worried.

Rafe looks to Kelce, and having no doubt he’s serious, gives the only reply that comes to mind. “Will y’make sure she’s alright?”

“God fucking dammit, Cameron,” Kelce sighs, beelining for the front door, somewhere Rafe is glad he won’t have to hear whatever comes out of his mouth next. 

Topper sits down, looking bewildered, picking up that third shot. He offers it to Rafe, who waves him off, before taking it. “I’m sorry. What?”

Rafe hasn’t cried, Rafe doesn’t cry, but if his best friend makes him say it one more time then he might have to put stock into the tightening in his throat or the pressure behind his eyes he’d been feeling since he left California. 

He’d been sleeping in your bed a week ago, waking up hours before you because his body was still ahead, content to let you sleep as long as possible while he took in everything he felt being close to you again, how your face and hair and nails had subtly changed since he last got to see you in August. How you had pictures of him by your bed, stuck on your mirror in your bathroom, hanging in the hallway and even under magnets on the fridge downstairs. How your blinds were in need of fixing, your sheets smelled just like they did back in Kildare, how the stack of books on your bedside table—one of their pages split down the middle by a polaroid he knew was of him and Wilbur—was so close to falling off Rafe barely dared to set his phone and wallet down but did anyway. 

Because they fit, just like he somehow fit in your bed and in your heart and in your life, so grateful in these moments he got to love you without thinking twice about it, wondering how he ever got along without them. And you’d wake up with fake annoyances that he hadn’t woken you up with him, kissing him sleepily before going downstairs to start a pot of coffee. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Top,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well—tell me what happened, to start,” Topper says. “Or—are you ready for that?”

When Charlie finally, finally, brings over another beer, Rafe figures he might was well try. “I felt like I wasn’t doing anything right. She’s crying all the time, I’m fucking up and pissing her off left and right. Her friends… fuck, I don’t even know if they liked me. I’m sure they don’t now.” 

“But that’s not why…”

“I know you’re trying to understand, but—”

“And I can’t, dude. What? You broke up with Y/n/n?”

“Yes, dude, fuck! Alright? I broke up with her. I fucked it up. I don’t know why everyone’s so fucking surprised—I was bound to screw it up at some point, wasn’t I? I’m a mess, I lied to her, I was never gonna be good enough for all of it or her.”

“You lied?” Topper asks. 

“I lied to my dad,” Rafe corrects, frustrated. “Why  do you think I’m here? This is my life. This. My job, my dad, this shitty bar on this shitty island. And she’s…”

So good, too good. Way too good for Rafe.

Topper must agree to an extent, and Rafe doesn’t know why that makes him feel better, that his friend lets the silence drag for so long. Maybe it gives Rafe time to convince himself he hadn’t fucked up, that he’d made the right move in letting you go. He doesn’t know how he ever convinced himself this wasn’t the only way this could end.

Topper finally nods his head in recognition. “That’s heavy. No chance you’ll work it out?”

He barely thought at all this week, going through the motions like a zombie, ignoring his roommates when they changed their tack and decided Rafe needed to get over it by going out or calling up an old favorite. The nausea that kind of thinking gave Rafe left him with no other choice but to start locking his door and stop answering their texts until they’d worried he died.

Kelce approaches the table again, and Rafe looks for any sign he can that will indicate how it went, but he only addresses Topper.

“I can’t get a signal outside—fuck The Cut—I’m gonna try the bathroom. And you,” Kelce says, pointing at Rafe. “You better find your own way home until I can figure out if I need to punch you in the face or not.”

“Stop, Kelce, what the fuck, man?” Topper says, watching him go. But he stands to follow him before turning back to Rafe. “I’m gonna go cool him off, alright? Don’t go anywhere, you’re shitfaced. We can work this out.”

Rafe watches them walk away, wondering briefly if he’s gonna lose either of them over this. He might deserve it, he decides as he ignores Topper’s only instructions, tossing a few bills at the end of the bar along with all three shot glasses stacked neatly inside the empty pint he’s holding. Charlie nods at him as he does.

Rafe pushes the door open, deciding he could use the walk.

[transhuman-priestess]

Sigma-38 is an assimilator unit out on her first raid. Her target: a young man deemed perfect for assimilation as an incubator.

The New Flesh is a gory, violent smut story for consumption only by adults over the age of 18 who are cool with dubcon, noncon, drugging, gore, light cannibalism, surgery, forcefem (kinda/sorta), brainwashing, weird gender shit, and probably a bunch of other stuff i forgot to mention

April 2

0313 Earth UTC

200 Million Kilometers beyond Jupiter

Sigma-38 fixed her vacuum helmet to her chassis. They were 2 minutes out from their target, a John Henry-class mining vessel, the Blair Mountain. The ship carried 2,000 metric tons of platinum-group metals, 20,000 tons of common ores, and 5,000 tons of water ice. None of that would be taken. When the Blair Mountain would be found, several months hence, her cargo would be entirely accounted for. What happened to her crew would be a mystery, the sort of thing that old astronauts talk about in hushed whispers at Jovian saloons.

The raiding party consisted of two K-class interdictor vessels, each containing 10 Gamma-type assault drones, 4 Mu-type engineers, and 1 Sigma-type assimilator. This was 38’s first raiding party, the drone was eager for the opportunity. Raids were one of the few times when command and control of the hive was allowed to devolve to individuals. Like water rushing in to a cave as the tide rises, the party would disperse into the target ship before washing its contents back out to the ocean of stars.

Nobody had to speak the 30-second warning. Logistic commanders were unnecessary for the hive. Antithetical to it, really. They would have a 15-minute window to subdue and extract the crew and whatever provisions they could before the Blair Mountain came out of a dead zone in the deep space network.

10 seconds. 38’s vessel, K-19, was aligning itself with the main crew hatch. The other interdictor, K-13, was covering the emergency hatch. 5 seconds. There was a soft thump through the floor of the cabin as K-19 achieved hard dock with the target. The airlock decompressed and the force field deactivated, allowing Mu units 76 and 45 to go to work wiring into the Blair Mountain’s airlock controls.

Zero.

The door opened, and the 15 drones of K-19 flooded into the airlock. The Mu units immediately set about bypassing the second door. 10 seconds later, the party was in. Sigma-38 pushed her way through. Screams erupted from the cramped quarters inside. Intelligence pegged the number of crew at 20. The hive had calculated a loss rate of 25% would still result in an acceptable gain, but a dead body was only good for its biomass, nothing more. Nonlethal weapons unless absolutely necessary.

38 followed the sound of screaming down the hall to her right, 4 Gammas behind her. 10 meters in, they came upon a small dormitory. She turned the handle on the door, feeling resistance as the 5 crew members behind the door pushed all their weight on it to try and keep it closed. 2 of the Gammas joined 38 and together they rammed the door down. Sigma-38 grabbed her first quarry of the raid. A young engineer’s mate, no older than 20. Tears filled his eyes as he begged, “Don’t kill me! Please! Don’t kill me, please!’

38 did not respond, only applied a shock from the stun rod embedded in her forearm. The engineer’s mate collapsed as 3 of his shipmates tried to knock her down. The assault drones pulled them off, applying their own stun rods to their prey. It was over in 20 seconds. One of the Gammas put magcuffs on the humans. 38 left the room and continued down the hall as a Mu used a gravcart to haul the humans back to the interdictor.

3 minutes had passed since the airlock was first breached. Mu-76 had patched the hive into the ship’s computer. 38 absorbed the data as she walked down the hall, zeroing in on the captain’s quarters.

The ship’s manifest listed the captain as Theresa “Terry” Holder, 37, a 10 year captain in the civil navy. A picture of the captain appeared in the corner of 38’s vision as she walked through the hall. Though she long ago gave up on being human, 38 still appreciated the form of them. The picture of Holder showed a strong-jawed woman with long brown hair and a swaggering smile, dressed in a grease-stained tank top. 38 felt her cock grow warm underneath the armor plating.

38 found the captain’s quarters, opening the door without hesitation, and was immediately met by the noise of a gunshot and a blast of kinetic energy as a .45 caliber round struck her left chest plate. She noted it, but felt no damage beyond the superficial. Four more quickly followed. Holder’s grouping was good. It would not save her.

Sigma-38 made eye contact with Captain Terry Holder as she approached. Something about her sent a thrill down 38’s spine. Holder’s gun jammed at the same time as a curious expression overtook her stubbled face. Not just fear. Confusion, maybe even a hint of recognition.

“What!?” She shrieked, as she frantically worked the pistol’s slide, trying to clear the jam, “You’re dead. You’re dead! You have to be dead! I shot you! I shot you and you’re dead!”

Sigma-38 grabbed the captain by the neck, lifting her half a meter into the air, and spoke, “Do not resist. You will become beautiful.” with a twitch of her wrist, a needle shot a sedative into the captain’s neck. This was the part 38 had been waiting for. The part where the prey knew it was beaten. that help would not come, that there was no more point in fighting. She locked eyes with the captain as the latter slipped out of consciousness. Though Holder could not see it, 38 was smiling

*****

All told, the raid, from infil to exfil, had taken 12 minutes. Only 2 of the crew of the Blair Mountain were lost. Their bodies were taken, their biomass useful for the synthesis of hormones, amino acids, and neurotransmitters. The other 18 would join the hive. They would be kept sedated until their assimilation began. It was a 4 day flight back to the hive’s nexus, and in that time 38 had planned to assimilate around half of the take.

The first, she decided, would be that engineer’s mate. One of the Gammas brought him to the assimilation chamber. 38 looked him over. Young, thin, around 19 or 20. No tattoos, sandy hair. She affixed a respirator mask to his face and, after checking that he was properly restrained, pressed a button on the stretcher to pull him out of sedation.

He stirred slowly, eyes bleary with drugs. So vulnerable, so innocent. 38 couldn’t wait to assimilate him.

“Where am I?” he said, “I...my name...my name is...Phillip Ellis...203243…”

“Your name,” Sigma said, “is of no concern to us.”

“Phillip Ellis, 2-oh-3, uhhhhh, 2-4-3”

“You have been selected to become an incubator for the hive.”

“What?” confusion crossed his face. Soon would come the fear.

“Your body will be modified and augmented to perform the function of incubator in the hive’s breeding chambers.”

“I...what?” The fear was starting to creep in. 38 had a choice now. She could administer the gas, which would clear away all that fear and doubt, or she could push him just a little further into terror. The choice was not difficult.

She waited for a few seconds and then said, “Do not be afraid,” It was too easy, really, “we will alter your body surgically and mechanically. Superfluous limbs and organs will be removed. You will be conscious during this process. You are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.”

Phillip Ellis’s response was simply to begin screaming. A high pitched, entirely undignified wail of dread. With a smile, Sigma-38 turned on the gas.

Ellis could only scream for so long before his lungs ran out of air. When they did, he had no choice but to inhale. His body was operating on adrenaline, he couldn’t have held his breath if he’d wanted to. He took a deep breath, already preparing to scream again, but the gas worked quickly. Before he finished inhaling it had already worked its way into his brain. A powerful aphrodisiac, it would arouse him, making the next step much easier and faster.

38 felt her cock begin to swell, and said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. I want you to lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”

Ellis resisted, somewhat half-heartedly, “No, I...I don’t want to,” he said.

38 frowned. She dialed up the gas and again, said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. Lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”

“I…” Ellis trailed off. His pupils were dilated, his mouth hanging open, a wide, crazed grin on his face.

“If you will not comply,” said 38, “I will compel you.”

Her cock was aching now. She didn’t feel like waiting for him to lift up his legs. He was so blissed out anyway that he probably couldn’t do it on his own. She grabbed his ankles and lifted them over his head. She held them there with one arm, and with the other, she took her cock and pressed it up against his asshole. He provided no resistance, “oh,” he said, “That feels good,” he was smiling. 38 smiled, too.

Slowly, she began to slide in and out of him. His thin, pale body squirmed and bucked in time with hers. He was hairless except for his head and groin, his cock engorged. She felt his ass grip her cock, and began to fuck him faster. As his moans grew louder and louder, 38 felt herself approaching orgasm. To her, this was foreplay. What came next was the main event.

The first convulsion twitched behind her cock, another, seconds later. The pressure began to build. It would be soon now. She could feel the replicators in her prostate working overtime on their payload. Another pang, the pressure now sustained. Ellis’s moaning was joined by 38’s and she felt her eyes close and her cock grow hard before it finally let go. She felt the pump of her prostate and her balls as they shot 10ccs of assimilation nanites into Ellis’s ass.

Ellis moaned, then groaned, and finally started screaming. This part was always painful, but it would only last for a minute or so. The nanites in 38’s semen were already dispersing themselves through his bloodstream, turning his veins a dark grey, his skin pale as they worked their way through his capilaries. In 10 seconds they had found their way to his brain. There, they began working to redirect the pain signals from his body into the pleasure center, and soon his screams of agony had become cries of ecstasy as he felt his tissue being remodeled on a cellular level.

38 pulled her cock out of his ass, a few grey pearls of cum dripping onto the floor of the chamber. Idly, she touched her finger to the end of her cock and brought it to her mouth, licking her own nanites, a metallic rush on her tongue.

“Nooo,” came Ellis’s pathetic voice, “please don’t stop. I need more.”

“You will get more.”

Ellis smiled. Sigma-38 reached for her first tool, a long, curved knife.

The first thing to do would be to cut through the skin and muscle on all four limbs. The last ¼ by the torso would be allowed to remain. She pressed the knife to Ellis’s left bicep, and whispered in his ear, “are you ready, dear?”

“Yes, yes please!”

She plunged the knife into his arm, feeling it slip through the skin and muscle and thunk down onto the bone below. Ellis screamed from the pleasure of it. Sigma allowed herself to remember this feeling from before the hive. It was bliss. She felt her cooling pump speed up just thinking about it. But she had to focus on the task at hand.

The wound did not bleed much, the nanites already replicating, aiding in clotting and building contact points and hookups for later. Ellis would make an excellent Iota-type incubator.

Soon, 38 had carved away a 3-centimeter wide section of flesh around each cut point on Ellis’s femurs and humeri. She put the knife back in its slot on the wall and reached for a circular bonesaw. She held it to his left humerus, but did not turn it on yet. Instead, she reached down and gently stroked the exposed bone, feeling Ellis shudder under her touch, hearing him moan in pleasure. She looked at his cock and saw a drip of precum fall from it on to his taught, hairless stomach. Almost a pity he wouldn’t have it anymore within the hour. Almost.

She turned on the bonesaw and began removing the limb. Bone chips and marrow spattered on her face, she idly licked them away from her lips. The salty, copper taste drove her mad. She lived for this. It was her purpose.

The next step was to install the hookup sockets to his residual limbs. She touched the side of her head to take a lidar scan of each, before sending them to the replicator in the corner of the room. By the time she’d made her way over, four fresh limb sockets were waiting. She brought them back to her quarry and began fixing them to each limb in turn.

These would be hooked into the breeding chamber back at the nexus. They would carry everything this incubator would need to survive. Nutrition, water, power, networking.

“There,” she said to him, “Isn’t that so much better? Don’t you feel so much lighter? Freer?”

“I do, 38.” He used her designation. A good sign, this meant that the neural connection with the hive was already being established. Usually that took longer. Ellis would likely not reject the hive. That was always a concern. Incubators rarely experienced rejection, but fixing it was always a messy proposition that left the hive with a less-than-fully-functional drone.

“Do you know what’s next, Iota unit?” she asked him as she hooked his limb sockets into a temporary life-support machine

“I do not have access to that information at this time.”

38 smiled and said, “Next we install your chestplate unit, dear.”

She walked to there replicator and pulled out the unit. It resembled a mechanical simulacrum of human breasts in shape, although its function was quite different. This would be the Iota unit’s biomech support device. Hormone synthesizers, nutrition processors, oxygenation units, heat exchangers, blood filters, and an assortment of other devices were included.

Gently, lovingly, she lowered the device onto the Iota unit’s chest. Microhooks dug into his flesh, and he let out a moan of pleasure. Grey lines appeared under his skin as tubing and wiring melded itself with flesh and bone underneath.

She cupped his left breast with her hand, squeezing gently. The silicone skin gave little under her touch, but the Iota gasped and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on her, before lying back and relaxing again.

It was time for the best part. “Dear,” 38 said, “after this next step you will become Iota-723. Do you know what the next step is?”

“The next step is…” the incubator was thinking, “You give me my womb and pussy, correct?”

“Very good! That’s right!” 38 was beaming ear to ear. 723 was doing very nicely already, and 38 was eager to feel as he felt during this part.

She took a scalpel in her hand, “Just so you know,” she said, “You won’t be able to talk out loud after this until the incubator hardware is installed,”

“That’s okay,” she heard, not out loud, but through the wire. This one was learning quickly.

“Alright” she thought back, “here it comes”

She pressed the scalpel into the soft flesh of his underbelly, just below his sternum. A bit of blood wept from the incision. She carved down and around the lower perimeter of his ribcage, down and around his abdomen to his pelvis, then across his belly, back up to the other side of his ribcage, and back up to the sternum again.

“38,” she heard, again through the wire, “I think I might cum.”

“You have to wait, not yet. Trust me.” she thought back.

Tenderly, she reached her fingers under the skin, and peeled it back, exposing the organs underneath. No longer were they the bright pinks and reds of a normal human’s. Grey filaments spiderwebbed across them, the nanites inside already processing them for use later.

38 went about removing 723’s intestines, stomach, liver, lungs, pancreas, kidneys, bladder, and spleen. Soon, all that was left in the hollow chest cavity was 723’s heart. It was beating fast. Though its owner was quite unperturbed by the situation, the heart itself seemed terrified. 38 once again allowed herself to remember her own assimilation.

Lying on the table, a strong feminine hand reaching inside her, up under her ribcage. Pleasure aching through every remaining fiber of her flesh. Her heart pounding as if trying to knock down the wall of some impregnable fortress. She let this memory swim to 723, letting it communicate through feeling rather than words what was to happen next.

38 reached into 723’s ribcage, and gently clasped his heart in her hand. She reached the other hand in, the one holding the scalpel, and quickly cut through the vessels and ligaments holding the heart in place. It kept beating as she slowly pulled it out and presented it to him.

But 723 didn’t see. He was screaming, or rather, trying to, the pleasure overtaking him. His eyes rolled back into his head and the muscles that remained in his body flexed rhythmically as he experience the most powerful orgasm of his life.

When 38 had been assimilated, her orgasm had lasted for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. She sat there, stroking 723’s short, sandy hair, for more than 15 minutes, until the last waves of ecstasy left him.

When he finally relaxed, 38 stood up and retrieved the incubator hardware from the replicator. The main part of it consisted of an expandable tank, for growing embryonic drones. Other equipment included amniotic filters, immune augmentation, and a vocal synthesizer that would hook up to the throat to allow the unit to speak normally.

She lowered the hardware into the cavity, easing the accessories under 723’s ribcage and attaching the mount to his lower spine. When she was finished, she gently caressed the small window of the tank. “You’re going to make us such beautiful drones, dear.”

“That is all I want,” said 723, out loud now, “to serve the hive.”

“Well,” 38 replied, “you’ll need a pussy to be a proper breeding device, won’t you?”

“Yes!” he cried, excitedly, “give me my pussy!”

38 went to work. She opened up his scrotum first, removing the testicles and gently placing them aside. The next step was to remove the erectile tissue from the penis. She took great care while doing this not to cut the nerve that ran to the head. Damaging that would mean there wasn’t anything left to make 723’s clitoris, which would be a shame not just for him, but for the entire hive. An incubator that could not feel pleasure was no incubator at all.

She pressed the now-inverted penile skin up into 723’s abdomen, and felt the incubator hardware grasp and attach to it. She opened a small tube in one of her fingers and injected pleasure nanites into the cavity. They would lubricate and protect the birth canal, as well as make it more sensitive for both 723 and 723’s end user.

38 took some nano-suture and sewed small details into the skin outside, she placed the clitoris under a nice little hood, sewed small wrinkles into 723’s new lips, and, rather tastefully she thought, bunched up the pussy lips so they were nice and plump.

“723, would you like to see your new pussy?”

“Yes! Yes I would!”

Rather than hold up a mirror, 38 simply showed 723 how his pussy looked through her eyes.

“Oh god, it’s so cute!” he said, “I can’t wait to use it.”

38 smiled, “All in time. For now, you need rest.”

“Understood,” 723 said. He closed his eyes and slept while the nanites in his body finished up the finer details of installation.

Sigma-38 picked Iota-723 up, and carried him to the adjacent conditioning chamber. Gently, she hooked him into a wall mount, before turning and making her way to preprocessing.

723’s assimilation had taken only an hour. Incubators usually took less time than full drones, though. 38 stepped into preprocessing, and looked over the remaining 16 humans, (Sigma-47 was working on assimilating another) held by mag restraints on vertical beds. Her gaze fell on the captain.

Terry Holder’s sedation was just now wearing off, as 38 had planned. Groggily, the captain opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on 38. She struggled, ineffectually. The drugs were still in her system, still keeping her slow and weak. There was that look of confusion again, from her quarters, and recognition. Her eyes grew wide as it dawned on her, and she said, “Jenna? You’re alive?”

“Hello Terry,” said Sigma-38, “The Jenna you knew is long, long gone.”

[maximwtf]

“You’re stronger than that.”

                                    Jasper x gem reader

words: 1100

google docs pages: 2

Warnings: claustrophobia(ish), some bruises, Jasper is kinda mean, but we love her. 

opening: The ship is going down, and it takes Jasper for a while to figure out where you are after finding her way out from under the burning ship pieces. She tries to ‘help’ you in her own way. 

AN// It’s been 6 years and I’m still so down bad for her, someone help :”D Anyway, I’ll get this out and then probably post the second part for the Peridot fanfic !^^ (Sorry this is all taking me so long ahah!)

              “You’re stronger than that.”

The ship had been going down at full speed, and after surpassing the earth’s atmosphere it had set on fire. Peridot had escaped on her own, but you hadn’t had time to do that. It was your duty to stay by Jasper’s side and help her if she needed any help, but she was gone as far as you knew. Though, something had definitely hit the heart of the ship and caused it to start going down, and you had a bad feeling about what it had been. A quick look out of a window showed the flames surrounding the ship and the clouds that were going by fast. While gritting your teeth together, you closed your eyes and held onto a pole. There was no time to get out of here anymore either. The ship crashed down, causing you to fly against the nearest wall. There was only time to groan, before the hit caused the entire ship to blow up on the beach. No memories of what happened after were left, only darkness, and then the memory of laying against wet sand in a dark place.

There were pieces of the ship flying here and there, some of them falling into the ocean and some on the beach. The green fire lit up the evening on the beach, illuminating its light against the sand. There was something heavy on top of you, crushing you down. It was so dark under all the heavy trash, you couldn't even see a grain of sand. All the attempts of trying to lift yourself back up had failed, there were simply too many heavy pieces on you. Another piece fell on the pile, pushing your body back and further against the sand. You could feel waves from the ocean hit your arm that was stretched out and stuck under something. There must have been an opening. It took everything in your power to keep your form together while splashing the water with one arm. Somewhere in the distance a familiar voice echoed, the voice was talking about fusions…Jasper. Her voice cut off after you yelled out for her. It was dead silent for what felt like ages, but must have only been minutes. The quartz had spotted your hand peeking from under one of the piles. “Can you not lift yourself up?” She laughed at you, but from the small hole you had to peek out of, you could see she was stumbling herself as she walked. Talking was hard since you couldn’t get much air for being pressed down. A growl echoed from under the pile as you used all your power to try and lift yourself up, but it was no use. Only the very top pieces rolled off to the sides, making Jasper chuckle once again. She crouched down, not that you could see much of her anyway. “Are you that weak? Come on..” She sighed, shaking her head. You tried to move again, pressing your eyes shut. It was almost like you could hear her call you useless under her breath. “Jasper, as much as I’d like to..I clearly cannot..” You mumble against the sand, gritting your teeth to keep your form. The pile of trash quakes as Jasper hits it with her boot, some of the pieces fall off yet again. “Stop..” You grunt, eyes closed. “You’re stronger than that…” Jasper’s hoarse voice replied, kicking the pile again. It feels like the pieces push you down even further. “Jasper…” A whine comes out, your form shaking. “What a sad excuse of a gem.” Jasper states, standing up with a grin on her face. You felt like crying, but no tears came out. Instead, a burst of anger caused you to take in some air and rip your arm out from under the piece that had fallen on it. Jasper’s brows lowered as she watched this go down. You crawled up, using everything in you to push your hand through the ship materia, then pushing your body up to get out. The pieces that had been pushing you down fell off, revealing your bruised form. “There you go-” Jasper hummed, grinning. “I told you to stop..” You mumble. Stepping out of the pile causes you to stumble forward into the water. Before you’re able to hit the water though, Jasper grabs your wrist, swinging you back. She held you up a little to make sure you didn’t fall. You stared at her for a moment, hair covered in sand and form bruised. By some miracle your gem was okay though. 

“Are you okay?” You asked when she dropped you back to your feet. “Of course. She only beat me because she’s a fusion..” Jasper looked away. She was so serious about winning every single battle she was in, that it wasn’t even hard to guess she’d be upset over this. It was like she had to prove to everyone that she was better, no matter what it took and who she was up against. “If only I had someone to fuse with…” She mumbled, looking over at the Crystal Gems. Her gaze then landed on you, causing you to take a step back. “You. Fuse with me.” Jasper got closer, something new in her voice. “Be stronger that way, with me.” She had almost a crazy grin on her face, but then again..when did she not. Your body shook a little. This was against every rule you’ve ever been taught. But truthfully, you had no energy left to fight the gems on your own, so if this was the only way to win.. You turned to look at Jasper, offering a hand to her. The grin on her face only grew as she took a hold of you once more. With eyes closed, you felt Jasper spin you around. Both of your gems started to glow faintly in the darkening evening as she dropped you onto her other arm. Her hair was messy, some strands coming to her face. She looked so beaten up. Jasper’s gem illuminated an orange light to your chest and to her face. That was the last look at her you got before you fused. 

AN// This is really short, but I’m too tired to write anything longer, haha. I’ll try a little more next time!^^

[tanjamikaelson]

STRANGE LOVE - CHAPTER 1

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 1: | IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK |

Allison hadn’t seen the Outer Banks since she was seven years old. Now, years later, she was back, her heart caught in a delicate mix of excitement and anxiety. The memories of her childhood summers spent here flooded her as soon as she stepped off the boat. Aunt Anna was standing on the dock, arms wide open with a welcoming smile. When they hugged, it was more than a simple embrace—it was the warmth and comfort of all those years apart, melting away instantly.

As they loaded her suitcases into the trunk and began the drive to Aunt Anna’s house, Allison gazed out the window, soaking in the scenery. The Outer Banks had changed, but it had somehow stayed the same. The sprawling beaches, the giant houses, and the crisp, salty scent in the air felt both foreign and familiar. There was an ache in her chest, but it was softened by the thought of being here again.

Finally finishing school had been a huge relief, and her parents letting her spend the summer at the Outer Banks was like a dream she’d been waiting to relive. She had missed this place more than she ever admitted—the sandy shores, her sister Kie, and her best friend Jessica, whom she'd known since birth. Though distance had kept them apart, Allison and Jessica had somehow managed to maintain their friendship over the years. The thought of reuniting with her brought an excited flutter to her stomach.

Arriving at the house, Allison’s heart pounded in her chest. The house stood before her like a relic of her past—different, yet still carrying the same charm. And there, on the porch, was Kie. Her face lit up the moment she saw Allison, and they both broke into a sprint, running toward each other. They collided in a tight embrace, tears of joy brimming in their eyes. It had been far too long. The house itself had the same cozy atmosphere, with its wrap-around porch and the familiar scent of blooming flowers mixed with the ocean breeze. Inside, the warmth of the family photos lining the walls brought a rush of nostalgia, the space feeling lived-in and loved.

Kie pulled back from their embrace, her eyes shining. "Can we go somewhere? We have so many things to catch up on," she said eagerly.

"Two of you should probably stay here," Mark interjected, his voice tinged with concern. "They said the hurricane will be bad.”

Allison laughed, brushing off the looming threat with a light-hearted joke. "First night back and already a hurricane? Didn’t know I had that effect on the island."

Both girls burst into laughter, the tension easing.

"Help Allison move into her room, and we’ll start dinner," Anna suggested, giving them a knowing smile.

Kie nodded and grabbed one of Allison’s suitcases. Together, they made their way through the house, down a hallway that ended with a familiar door. When Kie opened it, Allison paused to take it all in. Her eyes landed on the nightstand, where a framed photo stood. It was from the last Midsummers before she moved away—Allison, her parents, Kie, and Kie’s parents, all dressed up for the event. Allison picked it up with a bittersweet smile.

"This is still happening, right?" Allison asked, holding the photo.

"Yes, unfortunately," Kie replied with a hint of disdain in her voice.

Allison raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Why unfortunately?"

"I’m not a fan of Midsummers anymore," Kie admitted. "Too many stuck-up Kooks in one place."

Allison let out a laugh. "But we are Kooks," she pointed out, teasing.

"Oh no, maybe you are. I’m with the Pogues now," Kie corrected her with a proud smirk.

"Really?" Allison’s surprise was clear, her eyebrows shooting up in curiosity.

"Yeah," Kie confirmed.

Allison couldn’t help but prod further, a playful grin tugging at her lips. "So, boys, girls, both?"

"Only boys," Kie answered with a roll of her eyes.

Allison’s grin widened as she leaned in, teasing her sister. "Are they cute? Is that why you're hanging around with them? You like one of them?"

Kie’s defense was immediate, and her cheeks flushed slightly. "No, I don’t. No Pogue on Pogue mackin'," she said with mock seriousness, though her smile betrayed her.

Allison laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, like that rule ever works."

For the next half hour, the sisters caught up on their lives, filling the gaps that distance had created. They unpacked Allison’s belongings, reminiscing, joking, and reconnecting in a way that felt like no time had passed at all. When they were almost done, Kie’s parents called them for dinner.

Afterward, Allison took a long, soothing shower. The warm water cascaded over her, washing away the fatigue from her journey. She let herself relax, the anticipation of the summer ahead finally starting to settle in her bones. By the time she crawled into the queen-sized bed, her body was heavy with exhaustion. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim her, her dreams filled with the promise of new adventures.

・ • ・ • ・

The next morning, Allison woke to the soft sound of birds chirping outside her window. The golden light of dawn spilled into the room, casting a warm glow over everything. She stretched and got out of bed, feeling refreshed and eager to start the day. When she glanced out the window, though, she saw the damage left behind by Hurricane Agatha. The backyard was a mess, and though the sight wasn’t pleasant, she was grateful that she had slept through the storm.

After taking a shower and going through her morning routine, Allison headed downstairs. The rich smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen.

"Morning, sweetheart," Anna greeted her with a smile as she poured a cup of coffee. "Did you sleep well?"

Allison nodded, smiling back. "Morning! Yeah, I slept like a rock." She sat down at the kitchen table. "How bad was the storm?"

"It was pretty rough," Anna admitted, handing her a plate of waffles with chocolate syrup. "But we're all safe, and that’s what matters. Breakfast?”

Allison thanked her, digging into the waffles with enthusiasm. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the sweet taste of syrup hit her tongue. After finishing, she leaned back, satisfied. "Where’s Kie?" she asked, noticing her sister wasn’t around.

"She’s with Mike at the restaurant. We should head over soon. There’s some cleaning to do before we can open again," Anna replied.

Later, when they arrived at the restaurant, Allison and Anna quickly got to work alongside Kie and Mike. The hurricane had left quite a mess, but they worked efficiently, the hours slipping by as they cleaned, organized, and prepared the restaurant for reopening. By the time they finished, Kie had packed some sandwiches and was ready to head out with her friends. Allison watched from the porch as they arrived, deciding she would meet Kie’s new crew another time. There was still plenty of summer left.

・ • ・ • ・

Later that day, as Allison organized her room, her phone buzzed. It was Kie, inviting her to a kegger party at the Boneyard. Allison couldn’t hide her excitement. She always loved parties and was eager to meet new people. After applying some light makeup, and slipping into her bathing suit, and a short summer dress, she made her way to the party, the energy already buzzing within her.

When she arrived, the party was in full swing. Pogues, tourists, and Kooks mingled under the twilight, the air filled with the sound of music, laughter, and waves crashing in the distance. Despite the clear divisions, everyone seemed to be having a good time. Allison scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on Kie, who was sitting on a fallen tree, talking to a guy. She waved, catching her sister’s attention.

Kie beamed when she saw her. "My friends can’t wait to meet you," she said, grabbing Allison’s hand and pulling her closer.

As they approached, Kie's friends — John B, JJ, Pope, and Jordan — were laughing and holding beer cups. Their attention shifted to Allison as Kie introduced her. "Hey, guys, this is my sister, Allison."

Allison smiled warmly, shaking hands with each of them. "Hi, nice to meet you." She couldn't help but notice Jordan. His quiet, laid-back energy drew her in, and there was an undeniable attraction between them.

Jordan, too, seemed captivated. He kept his gaze on her a little longer than the others. When their eyes met, he poured her a cup of beer with a small smile. They exchanged glances that were more than polite—a silent understanding that neither of them needed to voice.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the music. "Allison, is that you?"

Allison turned around and her heart swelled as she spotted her childhood friend, Jessica. "Jess!" she exclaimed, running over to hug her. "I can't believe you're here!"

Jessica’s face lit up. "I can’t believe you’re here! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?"

"I wanted to surprise you," Allison laughed, soaking in the reunion. "Looks like it worked."

They spent the next hour catching up, dancing, and laughing. Jessica filled her in on the local gossip, while Allison updated her on her life away from the island. The beers kept flowing, and soon enough, Allison was pleasantly tipsy, the weight of the day lifting as the night unfolded.

As the night wore on, Allison decided to find Kie and her friends again. She made her way back to where they had been earlier, but only Jordan remained, sitting alone with his beer.

"Hey, where's Kie?" Allison asked as she approached, her curiosity piqued.

Jordan shrugged casually, his easy smile making her heart race a little. "Not sure. She’s probably off somewhere with JJ, John B, and Pope."

"Mind if I join you?" Allison asked, feeling the pull between them grow stronger.

Jordan nodded, shifting slightly to make room for her beside him. "Of course not." His voice was soft, the kind that could easily put someone at ease.

The atmosphere around them felt intimate, despite the loud music and crowd. The connection was undeniable. As they sat together, their conversation flowed easily, with Allison teasing him playfully and Jordan responding with a mix of humor and charm. When Jordan noticed her empty cup, he offered to refill it.

"One more cup and that’s it for tonight," Allison said with a grin, grabbing his hand as he stood up. "But only if you drink too."

Jordan smiled down at her, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Okay, one more cup for me too."

"Good," Allison teased. "I don’t like to drink alone."

He handed her a fresh cup, and they clinked their drinks together. "Well, here’s to new friends and being back," she toasted.

"I feel like it’s going to be a great summer," Jordan said, raising his cup to meet hers.

"Now that I’m back, of course it will be." Allison winked, playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

Jordan laughed, clearly enjoying her confidence. "Confident, are we?"

"Always," Allison smirked, taking another sip of her drink.

"As you should be." Jordan leaned closer, his tone a little more serious now.

Allison felt a spark of attraction flare between them. She edged even closer, her breath mingling with his. "So, do you like confident women?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"Who doesn’t?" Jordan replied, his gaze locked on hers.

"Some guys don’t," Allison teased. "That’s why I’m asking."

Jordan’s smile deepened. "I like confident women, but I also like making women feel confident."

Allison raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Now that’s a good answer," she said, her attraction to him growing by the second.

The firelight danced in his eyes, and the pull between them intensified. Allison bit her lower lip, feeling herself lean closer.

"But," she said with a mischievous grin, "I hope you don’t have a crush on my sister."

Jordan blinked, surprised, then laughed. "What?"

"You know, four guys, one girl," Allison teased. "It’s hard not to start liking someone."

Jordan shook his head, his laugh rumbling softly. "No, I don’t have a crush on her. But I can’t say the same for the others."

Allison rolled her eyes playfully. "I don’t care about the others. You’re the cutest."

Jordan smirked, his gaze darkening slightly. "Oh yeah?"

Without hesitation, Allison stood up, taking his hand and pulling him with her. "How about we move this somewhere else?"

Jordan allowed her to lead him away, curiosity and excitement playing on his features. They wandered to where she had parked her car. Allison hopped up on the hood, pulling him closer as she locked her legs around him. Their lips met in a heated kiss, her tongue softly licking at his bottom lip.

Jordan’s hands slid over her thighs, gripping her skin and pulling her dress up higher as their kiss deepened. Allison’s heart raced as she guided his hand to her inner thigh, just grazing the edge of her panties. She moaned softly, the heat between them intensifying.

But just as the moment built to a peak, Jordan pulled away, glancing around nervously. "Someone will see us."

Allison’s brow furrowed in confusion. "So?" she asked, her voice breathless. "You’ve never had fun in public?"

Jordan chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. "We could move into the car."

"Hmm, maybe later," Allison teased, her voice filled with desire. "I want you to touch me here, now."

Jordan’s gaze darkened, and he let out a soft laugh. "Okay, okay, just be quiet if you can."

Allison grinned widely, leaning back against the hood. "Yes, sir," she whispered, pulling him closer again. Her body responded to his touch, her skin warming under his fingers as they slipped beneath her panties.

But the sound of chanting and the word "fight" suddenly pierced the air, cutting through the intimate moment. Jordan paused, his head turning toward the noise. They both looked toward the water, hearing the crowd chanting the names "Topper" and "John B.”

Curiosity and concern replaced the passion as they rushed toward the crowd. Just as they reached the clearing, Allison’s breath caught in her throat. JJ had a gun pressed against Topper’s head, his face a mask of fury.

"You move, broski," JJ warned, pressing the gun harder into Topper's temple.

The crowd watched in stunned silence, some starting to back away, fear creeping into the air. A few stayed, holding their breath to see what would happen.

A girl Allison didn’t recognize stepped forward. "Put the gun down, JJ," she pleaded.

JJ hesitated, then slowly lowered the gun, but the tension didn’t dissipate. He lifted the weapon toward the sky, firing two deafening shots into the air.

"Okay, everyone, listen up!" JJ shouted, his voice ringing out above the chaos. "Get the hell off our side of the island!"

The sound of gunfire sent people running, scattering in every direction. Allison stood frozen, her grip tightening on Jordan’s arm as the shots echoed in her ears. Her heart raced in her chest as she watched Kie and Pope rush toward JJ.

"Are you crazy?" Pope yelled, pushing JJ backward.

Allison stood frozen, shocked by the violence and chaos. This wasn’t the carefree summer she had imagined. The summer that began with nostalgia and excitement was quickly turning into something much darker and more dangerous.

A/N: Just letting you guys know that Rafe will show up in the third chapter.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 8: Crash And Burn]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, actual sex (18+ readers only), near-death experiences, health crises, hospitals, questionable tattoos, trout with Trent.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​​​@elsolario​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @courtenbae​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ 

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“He broke up with me.” Kimmie hasn’t taken a single sip of her Miller Lite. She’s staring right past you and Heather, her eyes glassy puddles shimmering with reflections of multicolored Christmas lights. It’s Monday, December 13th, and Dale’s stereo is playing Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas. You’re in the usual booth and waiting for the boys to get off work. Outside the frosted windows is an ocean of darkness punctuated by narrow aisles of murky streetlight luminescence. “He actually broke up with me.”

Heather snaps her fingers in front of Kimmie’s face. “Uh, Kimmie, Earth to Kimmie, yeah, can you give us a little more exposition, please? When exactly did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” Kimmie says, slightly more present now. “He’d been weird since the hike, super depressed, super boring…he wasn’t even interested in doggie style, and he loves doggie style!”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather pleads.

“So he called me to come over last night and I went to see him and he was…like…sitting on his couch with his hands folded in his lap like it was a freaking job interview. And he explained that he thought I was totally great and that we’d had a lot of fun together but now he had to break things off for personal reasons.”

“Wow, personal reasons, wow,” Heather muses. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but she does kick your boot under the table. You pretend not to notice.

“Wow,” Joyce echoes wryly, flipping a page in her current fantasy novel. There’s some stately prince on the front cover: crown, sword, shield, long flowing hair like a river of white gold.

“I don’t even care that much,” Kimmie realizes as she’s saying it. “I mean, it was nearing its expiration date anyway. I’m going to get back together with Brad, Aegon’s going to presumably resume sleeping his way through Juneau…or maybe try out taking a vow of celibacy, who knows, he’s been very monkish the past few days. He can be fun sometimes, and I like him, and I wish him all the best, but there’s no future for us. I just realized that he’s the first guy who ever broke up with me instead of the other way around. It feels…not great!”

“Congratulations, you’re a mortal,” Joyce says, not looking up from her book.

“So you wouldn’t care if Aegon got with someone else?” Heather asks Kimmie innocently. This time, you kick Heather. She winces but bites back a hiss of pain.

Kimmie considers this, finally taking a swig of her I’m-a-cool-girl-who-likes-hockey-and-trucks beer. “No, probably not.”

I won’t do it, you vow to yourself with false stoicism, imagined iron you wish you were really made of. I won’t date him, I won’t sleep with him, I won’t fall in love with him. And yet part of you already knows it’s too late. Part of you knows this as if it’s been inked to your skin like the scrawled, secret entries of a journal.

Ursa Minor’s front door bangs open, and what you see when you turn to look doesn’t make any sense. Rob and Trent—both dripping wet, their hair plastered flat to their heads, their boots squeaking on the hardwood floor—rush inside. There are shouts and gasps and people leaping up out of their seats to get a better look. Trent is carrying something over one of his lumberjack-broad shoulders. He kneels to throw it down onto the floor. It’s Aegon: limp, bluish, unconscious.

“Someone call somebody!” Trent bellows. He’s staring down at Aegon in panic, in terror, not knowing what to do. Beads of water run down his face. “An ambulance or 911 or a helicopter…or…or somebody!”

“Got it!” Dale says, darting for the phone behind the bar. Kimmie is shrieking. Joyce is trying to calm her down. And by then, you’re on the floor beside Aegon feeling for a pulse on his carotid. He doesn’t have one. He’s cold and he’s silent and he’s medically dead.

“He fell,” Trent says franticly, helplessly. “We were bringing the boat into the harbor and he got tangled in a net and fell overboard. I pulled him out, but he was underwater for a while and we couldn’t…we couldn’t wake him up…”

“Aegon?!” you scream, shaking him, slapping him across his icy, vacant face. “Aegon, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

Heather is next to you. “What can I do?”

“Help me get his wet clothes off. Hypothermia.”

She yanks at his boots, his socks, his jeans. “You know how to do CPR, right?”

“Yeah, on a dog!” Still, you have to try. How long can he go without a pulse until he’s braindead? Four minutes? Five? The cold might buy him extra time, but not much. Minutes. You rip off his red flannel shirt; buttons go careening across the wet floor. As you place your palms over his heart, you notice—fleetingly, dazedly, like sloshing through a dream—that he has a scattering of scars on his chest, gashes and punctures and knicks…and two tattoos. There is a dragon spiraled around his right collarbone. Just below his left, there are three words written in light, graceful cursive: I’m a killer.

You start chest compressions. How many am I supposed to do on a human? Ten? Twenty? You can’t remember. You’re sobbing; you aren’t sure when that started, but it’s in full force now. Heather mops the tears from your face with her sleeve so you can see.

He’s going to die, you think. He’s going to die lying on the floor of this bar in his boxers, and he will never tell me anything again, and he will never see his family again, and he will never get better. The channel killed Jesse and now it’s killed Aegon too.

“Is he dead?!” Kimmie yelps from across the room. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

Heather hurls back: “You’re going to be dead if you don’t shut up! Let her work on him!”

You tilt Aegon’s head back, lift his chin, pinch his nose shut. Then you exhale into him. You can taste the dark ancient salt of the sea on his cold lips…but beneath that there is rum as well. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much at work. He doesn’t usually. What’s different? What’s been bothering him? But you think you know the answer to that.

There’s nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Aegon’s chest rises and he rolls onto his side, choking out torrents of seawater and gasping for air. People are cheering and chattering, but you barely hear them.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, and if you were sobbing before now you’re properly bawling, breathless and hysterical. It’s uncontrollable, you can’t seem to stop. You cling to Aegon as he shivers violently and peers around with half-open, profoundly confused blue eyes, warming him with your own body heat, turning his flesh from blue to white to pink.

“Go get coats and stuff to warm him up,” Heather says to Trent, shoving him away. And you do actually need coats…but also, you think, Heather is trying to get rid of her brother. Because it should be obvious to anyone what’s going on here; it should be obvious to anyone that you’re in love with this white-blond man on the floor who not so very long ago was a stranger.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon rasps, pawing clumsily at your face as if to comfort you, almost poking your eyes out in the process. And then he asks, with genuine confusion: “What the hell are you crying about?”

You start laughing, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “You, idiot. I’m crying about you.”

“I’m fine, Appletini,” he croaks. “Shh. Shh. Stop. No crying.”

“I thought you were dead, I thought…I thought…”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Aegon says, his eyes dipping shut. Outside in the blackness somewhere, there are sirens whirling. Trent returns with an armful of coats and together you pile them on top of Aegon, burying him in a tomb of L.L.Bean and Patagonia and The North Face. “Trust me. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, the hospital won’t let Aegon have rum and Cokes. He pushes his morphine button almost constantly, even though the doctors and nurses tell him he’s already maxed out. They began by keeping Aegon overnight for observation, and then he developed pneumonia, and then the first type of antibiotics didn’t work and they had to play roulette until they found one that did. Now it’s a full week later—December 20th—and Aegon is finally feeling like himself again and is due to be released tomorrow. Sunfyre has been staying with you and your parents. He loves it, he gets constant attention and enjoys gazing out the window to see if his new best friend the cow moose will show up. Meanwhile, Trent has convinced his boss Rusty—another high school classmate of your parents, another hulking bearded specimen of the enmeshed Juneau ecosystem—to let Aegon keep his job despite the extended leave; Trent even managed to get Aegon paid time off for the first five days. This is all rather heroic of him. It makes you feel bad for thinking he might be a serial killer. If Trent knows that Aegon was drunk on the job, he hasn’t mentioned it to anybody.

“I got you something,” Aegon tells you when you get off work. It’s just after sunset, the last whisps of pink and lilac dusk vanishing from the sky. Things have been slow at the vet clinic as Christmas draws near, which is good in that you can leave early and visit Aegon more often. It’s bad because you’re less busy, less preoccupied; you have all the time in the world to think about him. Aegon is propped up in bed on pillows—his hair slicked back from his face, his eyes sleepy and racoonish—and wearing a hospital gown that’s too big for him. You can see his collarbones and his tattoos, though you’re trying very hard not to stare, to wonder. He points to the table beside his bed. There’s a bouquet of blue roses lying there.

“For me?!”

“For the person who literally brought me back from the dead? Yeah, I don’t think it’s too extravagant.”

You give him one of the hot chocolates you bought from the hospital cafeteria. It’s not as good as his, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. He clutches the Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam rolling up into his face. He inhales the scent, closes his eyes, sighs deeply with a smile. “I hope they aren’t stolen,” you say about the roses, only half-kidding.

“They’re from the gift shop. I dragged myself down there after lunch. They really weren’t that expensive, I think the cashier gave me a still-attached-to-an-IV discount.”

“Was she cute?”

“She was eighty years old.”

You laugh and sit down in the chair beside his bed, sipping your own hot chocolate: thin, watery, weak. You admire the roses, threading velvety cerulean petals through your fingers. “I love them, really, but I wish you wouldn’t buy things for me. I know you’re chronically short on money. And I am somehow skeptical that you have health insurance. Do you have health insurance?”

He grins toothily. “Nope.”

“Aegon,” you lament.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll bill me, I’ll never pay, it’s all made up.”

“You might need a halfway decent credit score one day.”

He shakes his head. “I’m never going to try to get a mortgage. I’m never going to apply for a job at a bank or a law firm. I’ll be fine. I’ll live in a tree if that’s what it takes.”

You rest your palm against his cheek and then his forehead, checking for fever. His skin is warm but not hot, pale but not bloodless. You can feel his eyes on you, trying to catch your gaze like a hook through a fish. You avoid them.

“How do I look, vet lady?”

“I’m not really qualified to evaluate humans.”

“I don’t want to get better.”

Now you do stare at him, direct and mystified. “Why?”

“I’m worried you won’t be nice to me anymore.”

You chuckle, relieved. “I’ll still be nice to you, Aegon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

A nurse pops into the room, young and springy and jovial like a kitten. She must be new; you don’t recognize her, and you’ve been here a lot. “Good afternoon, I’m just swinging by to take your vitals. I see you’re scheduled to go home tomorrow, how exciting!” The nurse squints down at the chart she has pinned to a clipboard. “Aegon…?”

He smirks long-sufferingly. “It’s Greek.”

“It’s lovely!” the nurse recovers. She measures his temperature and heartrate and blood pressure, his reflexes and his oxygenation. He passes all inquiries with flying colors. She congratulates Aegon on his recovery and flits off to tend to more needy patients. You think of the nights you’ve spent curled up in this chair, listening to Aegon’s labored, rattling breathing and watching blooms of flare-hot crimson fever creep across his face. You think of how much it’s going to kill you to lose him someday. You find yourself staring at his tattoos, ink that someone else put there in some other city, remnants of the life he had before.

“You can ask,” Aegon says. “I’m sure you’re wondering.”

You set your hot chocolate on the table and move closer to him, ghosting your fingertips over the words: I’m a killer. He jolts a little, although not in a bad way, not in an unwelcome way. He doesn’t lean away from you. In fact, he leans in. “What’s up with that?”

“Would this be an awkward moment for me to confess that I’m the Ice Fisher?”

You smile. “You have to admit that it’s a little weird. There’s a killer on the loose, you have a tattoo that says you’re a killer, I think any reasonable observer would have questions.”

“Kimmie didn’t.”

“Reasonable observer, I said. Reasonable.”

“It’s not a confession. It’s a Johnny Cash lyric.”

“Really? Which song?” You know a fair amount of Johnny Cash thanks to your dad’s extensive vinyl collection. You skim through his discography in your head: Walk The Line, Ring Of Fire, Get Rhythm, Folsom Prison Blues, I Got Stripes. You can’t remember any of them having that line. It circles around in your skull, only sounding like Aegon’s voice: I’m a killer, I’m a killer.

“I’ve Been Everywhere,” he says. “It’s a cover, actually. Some other guy did it first. But I didn’t know that when I got inked. And I loved Johnny Cash’s version when I heard it. It was like my theme song.”

“Ohhh, right, that’s the one where he lists all the cities he’s been to, like Reno, uh, and Chicago, and, uhhh…”

Aegon sings, deep but hoarse: “Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma—” He breaks off with a coughing fit.

“Stop,” you beg, laughing. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You trace the cursive letters lightly. I’m a killer. I’m a killer. “Kimmie never had questions about that?”

“I don’t think Kimmie really sees me. She just sees adjectives in the shape of my silhouette. But you…” He puts his hand over yours, pinning it to his chest. You can feel his heart under there somewhere, beneath muscles and bones and a pitch-black sea crawling with monsters that have evolved to live in the extreme gravity, in the depths: ghosts of the past and sirens of the future. He smiles. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.” You study his scars. They’re random like a scatterplot, none large enough to appear life-threatening. “How did you get these?”

“Car accident. A long time ago.”

“Before you left Miami?”

He gazes absently out the window, where snow is falling. You can see it drifting down to the earth in the gloomy beams of streetlights. “Yeah.”

Now there are new lyrics bubbling up in your mind, not anything by Johnny Cash but Cake’s The Distance. No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine, he’s haunted by something he cannot define. And perhaps you know something about what that feels like. “Do you really think I’m a coward?” you ask softly. “I know you’re trying not to lie to me. So I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. You might be the only person who will.”

Aegon pauses before he answers. “I think a lot of people are cowards in one way or another,” he says diplomatically. “And I think that if that’s your greatest flaw as a human—that you don’t want to disappoint your parents, that you don’t want to hurt them, that you want to repay them for being so wonderful when there are people out there who beat and murder their kids—you turned out alright.”

You think of how easy it would be to rest your head on his bare, scarred chest and let him hold you. You think of how much you want that, want it in a sudden and ravenous and unbearable sort of way. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“No problem, Appletini.”

There is a knock on the door, and you jerk away from Aegon. You pick up your hot chocolate and slurp it as you sink into the chair. Aegon laces his hands together and wrings them. Trent walks in. “Sup, bro?!” he pipes cheerfully.

“Bro,” Aegon offers in return. They bump fists.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I definitely am.”

“Still getting let out tomorrow?”

“Yup. Like a prisoner who made parole. Kimmie already offered to drive me home.” Then he adds: “Platonically.” Kimmie’s the only one in the friend group without a real job. Her parents are both university professors—you aren’t sure how none of the genius chromosomes made their way down the genetic Plinko board to her, but they didn’t—and she gets paid to be their ‘research assistant’…which means she works rarely and with no accountability whatsoever.

Trent’s eyes dart to you, to the blue roses, to you again, finally back to Aegon. He’s beaming, but there’s something hollow about it, like if you struck him across the face it would crack like porcelain. “Flowers, huh? That’s dope.”

“Yeah, I figured it was the least I could do since she saved my life and all.”

“She’s fantastic,” Trent agrees proudly, like he owns you. “In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here.” He turns to you. “I called the house and your parents told me I should check the hospital. I wanted to…you know, now that Aegon’s basically better and we all know he’s not gonna die…I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, stupidly, like you’re unfamiliar with the concept. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, someplace nice. Candlelight and fancy dessert, the whole deal.”

A date. That’s definitely a date. You stare at Trent. He stares at you. Aegon frowns at you both, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Dinner,” you say awkwardly, but with more conviction. “Totally. Dinner would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Trent thunders. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds good!” you say with overcompensating enthusiasm. Trent swoops in for an unexpected hug—nearly spilling your hot chocolate—and gives Aegon a parting fist bump. Then he’s gone.

“I owe him,” you explain to Aegon, speaking quickly, nervously. “He saved your life, he fished you out of the channel like a goddamn salmon. He’s responsible for you keeping your job. He’s getting you paid time off. He’s been around the hospital a lot this week, he’s been so helpful, selflessly helpful…I can’t just tell him to fuck off after all that.” And then you say: “But it’s only dinner! Only one dinner!”

“Need some condoms?” Aegon teases, trying to make you smile. It works. “I have a box I’m not currently using.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good to know.”

“I doubt your condoms are horse-sized anyway.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not about the number of inches, it’s about how you use them.”

“I’ve heard some very interesting things. About your inches, I mean.”

“Oh no,” he groans, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“I didn’t say bad things. I said interesting things.”

“I wouldn’t mind you knowing from firsthand experience,” he says with a sly little grin you can’t quite read. It’s playful, it’s sharp, it’s baiting, it’s sad.

“About what?”

“About my inches.”

You both burst out laughing, so hard Aegon launches into another coughing fit. You reach for him instinctively, pressing your hand to his chest again as if you can cure him, not a palm reader but a faith healer. A miracle worker. A professional fixer.

“You think it’s safe?” he asks, seriously now. “Dinner, I mean. With Trent.”

“I think he’d have a hard time strangling me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And everyone’s going to know we’re hanging out together tomorrow night, he’d have to be more than stupid to kill me. He’d have to be all brainstem, like an alligator or a shark. Besides, he doesn’t want me dead.”

“I know. He wants you to be his wife.” There’s nothing to fill the uneasy lull but the pounding of your own heartbeat. “Call me,” Aegon says abruptly. “When you get home tomorrow night. So I know you’re okay.” So I know you didn’t get murdered. So I know you’re not at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“What if it’s not until really late? I don’t want to disturb you while you’re recovering.”

He looks out the window: into the frigid void, into nothing. “Still call me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Trent takes you to the Red Dog Saloon, Juneau’s idea of fine dining. You intentionally dress to look not-sexy: dark blue flannel (you’ve warmed to the fabric since Aegon wears it so much) with a T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots, minimal makeup, hair in an I-really-don’t-care messy loose braid. Trent doesn’t seem to notice that this isn’t supposed to be a date. He’s wearing a button-up maroon shirt and khakis. He chats away blithely as you survey the menu. He’s had the servers bring out candles to put on the table. He’s ordered craft beers for you both. You wrinkle your nose and shudder after each thick bitter sip, chasing the beer with desperate gulps of water. Whoever owns the Red Dog Saloon does not share Dale’s devotion to Shania Twain and Christmas music; the stereo is playing Savage Garden’s Crash And Burn.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asks, casting former-football-star Trent a flirtatious smile just in case he’s single. He is! you mentally shout, hoping for telepathy. He just doesn’t know it!

“Yeah,” you begin. “I think I’d like to try your brisket—”

“Oh no, no no no,” Trent says with a chuckle. He flips his hair; in your head, you hear a neigh. “They have a great special. Trout with risotto. How fancy is that?! I don’t even know what risotto is! We gotta try that. We gotta make tonight special.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” You give the waitress a tight smirk as you hand her the menu. “The trout special. Two of them, I guess.”

“You’ll love it,” the waitress promises, tossing Trent another smile like a penny into a fountain. She takes both menus and disappears into the kitchen.

“So,” Trent says, drinking his beer. “I didn’t know you liked Aegon so much. I thought you kind of hated him, actually.”

You shrug, peering into the foam of your unwanted beer. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering. It doesn’t matter who.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you encouraged me to get along with him because you want him to stay in Juneau so he can be in your band.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay, never mind. I was just…curious.” Another hair flip.

“Look, Trent…” You gather your courage like raking up autumn leaves. “We’re friends, right?”

He chortles. “Well, I’d like to think we’re a lot more than that.”

I bet you would. “But we never…like…we never put a label on it, you know?”

“Do you need a label?” he says. You had worried he might be mad; instead, he’s amused. You aren’t sure why that makes you feel worse. “Is that what makes it official, us using the words boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, whatever?”

“Maybe those words don’t really apply to us, and that’s why we haven’t used them yet,” you try hopefully. “Like, if we were supposed to date, it would feel more natural for us to date. But maybe it doesn’t feel so natural, so we’re better off staying friends.”

Now he puts his beer down and stares at you. The glass thumps against the glossy wood. He’s bending towards you, though you don’t think he’s even aware of it; he props his elbows on the table, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. And there’s something else in the lines of his face too. Anger. Indignation. Betrayal. “You want to be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” you amend swiftly. “I just said maybe we’re better off as friends.”

He slaps his palm against the table—you flinch, hating that he has that power over you—and laughs in amazement. “I’m just…well, I’m shocked! You’re fine with kissing me, and watching movies in your bedroom, and hanging out all the time, and getting drinks together and playing pool and showing me off to your parents, but you’re horrified by the thought of calling it dating?! You’re too much, ladybug. You’re really too much.”

He's going to pretend he doesn’t see that I want out. And he’s going to keep pretending until he’s on his knees with a fucking ring from Zales. “I don’t think I’m looking for a relationship right now, Trent. With anyone.” Oh, and that’s such a goddamn lie.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He studies you; but that’s too kind a word for it. His eyes flay you down to the bone. “I’m a good guy, you know.”

“I know,” you lie, nodding agreeably.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” he says. “It’s not like you have forever to find someone to settle down with. I go to work, I’m popular, I’m presentable, I care about you, I take you on dates, I move your furniture around whenever you fucking ask me to, I’m a good guy. I get that maybe this is progressing a little fast for you, and we can slow down if that’s what you want. But I think it would be pretty stupid to give something like this up. Don’t you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a threat. Don’t you? Don’t you? “You’re right, Trent,” you hear yourself say, like it’s someone else’s voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

The waitress arrives with your dinner and—not so subtly—slips Trent her number. He makes a great show of ripping it up in front of you. The trout and risotto thing is great, actually. It’s not what you walked in wanting, but it turned out just fine. And maybe that’s what the rest of your life will be like too: other people making choices, you hoping you’ll like the taste.

After dinner and dessert—a Baked Alaska, another of Trent’s suggestions that are more like nonnegotiables—he drives you home in his massive rumbling truck. You talk innocuously about your vet clinic clients, dogs and cats and hamsters and reindeer, until you roll to a stop in front of your parents’ house. You begin your goodbye, opening the truck door. Cold December air floods in.

“Okay Trent, thank you for a lovely night—” He cuts you off with a kiss he didn’t ask for, a hand on your face that feels hot and smothering. You’re so stunned it takes you a few seconds to try to push him away. He ignores you until you shove him so hard he can’t pretend not to notice.

“What are you so worried about?” he demands, he implores, like he’ll fix anything if you just name it, like he’ll strike the nails with his bare hands. But he can’t fix what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m in love with Aegon Targaryen. “Are you scared I’ll be bored of you once you give it all up? Are you worried about getting pregnant? Aren’t you on the pill? I saw the pack in your bedroom.”

You’re nauseated that he noticed, that he’s imagined you like that: naked, compliant, vulnerable. “Yes, Trent, but that’s for me, not for you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You tell him the truth. Not the whole truth—not enough to enrage him—but the crux of it: the spine, the heart. “I always thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like, but now I’m…I’m…”

“Well this is what comes next, right?” Trent says. “You check the boxes for school and work, and then it’s time to settle down. Get married, buy a house, have kids. I’m ready to give you that. I want to give you that. Don’t you want it too?”

Aegon is going to leave, you think with steel-cold dread. Sooner or later, he’ll disappear to start over again in some anonymous new city. And what will my life look like then? What will I have when he’s gone? “I guess I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Trent nods, his jaw clenched tight, looking out into the darkness through his windshield. “I’m not criticizing you for waiting. I’m just wondering what the hell you’re waiting for.”

Inside the house is hushed and empty; your parents are enjoying a night out with your dad’s bowling league. They even took Sunfyre with them. You drag yourself upstairs, each step a mile. You brush your teeth—twice—to get the taste of Trent and craft beer out of your mouth. And then you stand in your bedroom surrounded by posters and magazines, surrounded by fantasies that you will never wrap your hands around. You glance at the box full of Jesse’s journals; you can see the cardboard edge of it poking out from beneath your bed. He’s gone, and he wasn’t perfect, in fact in many ways he was a curse, was a plague, was a monster. But I think my mom would give anything for one more day with him. After all these years, I still think she would.

The blue roses Aegon gave you are in a vase on your nightstand, right next to the phone. They’re already dying. And now your throat is burning, and your eyes are wet with tears, and when defenseless sobs rip from your chest there is no one here to hear them. I don’t want to protect myself from what it would have been like with him. I want to know.

You snatch up the phone, find the Post-it note with Aegon’s number written on it, call him before you have time to change your mind. When he answers, it’s clear you woke him up. His voice is slow and groggy. “Hello?”

“Can I come over?”

“Huh…?”

“Can I please come over? I need to come over. I need to come over right now.”

Now he’s awake. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I’m fine, I’m safe, I just…I just…” You swipe the tears from your eyes and take a long, trembling breath. “I just need to come over.”

“No problem,” Aegon says. He is puzzled, he is concerned…but you think a part of him is glad too. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

You drive your Jeep to his apartment building and park it—badly, crookedly, like he would—under a streetlight. The night is fiercely, brutally cold when you dive out into it. The full moon is an island; the indigo, star-flecked sky is an ocean deep with secrets and bones and wreckage, splinters of swallowed lives dissolving into the blue. Upstairs, Aegon’s door is already unlocked. He’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and green flannel pajama pants, his hair disheveled. He’s also making hot chocolate.

“Hi,” he says casually, filling the mugs. He adds splashes of French vanilla coffee creamer—plus some 99 Whipped for his green mug—and swirls of whipped cream, then shaves on a generous dusting of Hershey’s chocolate. He gives you the blue mug. You take it in quivering hands. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m amazing.”

“Okay.” He waits, patient and watchful, sipping his hot chocolate.

You feel better after a few minutes tick by. Aegon’s apartment is serene and still. The tv is dark; there’s no music, no voices, no distractions. You can barely hear the screech of the Arctic wind outside. The only light turned on is the one in the kitchen; the rest of the apartment is shadows. The hot chocolate is warm, rich, comforting, safe. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty great,” Aegon replies. “Normal.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He gazes at you, still waiting.

You finish your hot chocolate and put the mug in the kitchen sink. You take your hair out of your braid and shake it loose, surveying his apartment with aimless steps: his couch, his guitar, his litany of refrigerator magnets, his unmade bed. Aegon sets his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Appletini,” he says. “Why are you here?”

You turn back to him, but you can’t find your words. It’s on your face, it has to be; it’s in a language Aegon can speak fluently. You see the understanding flicker in his eyes like firelight: sudden, bright, exhilarated.

“Say it,” he prompts. “You have to say it, or I’m not going to believe you.”

You try, you really do try. But you can’t get the words to leave your lips. You don’t know how to put what you want from him into words at all. Anything, everything.

He smiles, softly like a whisper. “Me first, huh?” Then he begins undressing. He yanks his Nirvana T-shirt over his head—further tangling his hair—and tosses it across the room. He slips off his pajama pants, and then his boxers too. He’s standing there in the florescent kitchen light, flesh and ink and track marks and scars. “Okay, your turn. If you’re still interested.”

“I want you to do that part.”

He crosses the scuffed hardwood floor, his footsteps quiet. His fingers find the top button of your flannel shirt. His eyes are fixed on yours as he unhooks the first button, another, another after that. He leans in to press his lips to your throat, just beneath your jaw. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, he kisses his way down to your collarbone as he unfastens the rest of the buttons and gently pulls off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He slips his hands below the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing underneath and lifts it away, his knuckles grazing your belly, your waist, your ribs, the lace of your bra. And then he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with exceptional, reverent slowness, like you’re something that could shatter. You can’t reconcile this man with the sort of wild acrobatics that Kimmie had described. And then you’re not thinking about Kimmie at all. The past is a black hole, the future is an empty sky. There’s no room in this lightning-brief sliver of eternity for anyone else.

You breathe him in: sweetness, warmth, the bite of alcohol, fire and shadows and light. He unbuttons your jeans, unzips them, kneels down to peel them off of you. He touches his lips to your thigh—first the outside, then the downy-soft inside—and hesitates for a moment before he stands to kiss your lips again. His hands skim across your bare back towards the clasp of your bra, raising goosebumps like twilight stars. And then again, he hesitates. His hands come back to your face, his fingertips calloused but lithe.

“You’re nervous,” you murmur, smiling. You tuck his escaped lock of hair behind his ear, pressing yourself against him: hips, chest, soul. The sapphire blue lace of your bra and panties rustles across his skin. You can’t get close enough to him; it’s not possible, it’s not fathomable. He’s holding himself back, you can tell. He’s panting with the effort. In the midnight silence, you can hear every sound he makes with crystalline clarity. The moonlight pours in, painting you both in ghostly silver light.

Aegon chuckles shakily. “I am,” he admits.

“I think you’ve done this once or twice before.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“I want this,” you say, your lips to the curl of his ear. His skin is hot with eager, rushing blood. “And I want you to be the one to set me free.”

Something snaps in him, something breaks like a wave. Your bra tumbles to the floor, your panties are whisked away, you and Aegon are on the bed together tangled up like arteries flush with life. There is a breathless sort of desperation in it: in the way your fingers intertwine, in his gasps and your moans, in the sustained pleasure—so intense it borders on pain—that causes euphoric tears to spring up in your eyes, in his deep, startlingly powerful thrusts that begin slowly and then build to a furious rhythm. And you know then that he agrees, it’s not possible to ever get close enough to each other; but still, you resolve to try.

“Look at me, baby,” Aegon whispers as you arch into him and you beg him not to stop, his palm turning your face towards his. “Look at me, look at me, look at me…”

You unravel like thread torn from a spool until its empty, like a mystery, like stitches clipped from a healed wound. There’s an insurmountable sort of peace that follows it. Nothing is okay, and yet everything is, and you can conjure up no words but only colors: the white of snow, the indigo of the night sky, the gold of the rare unclouded midday sun, the ethereal green-violet glow of the Northern Lights. Aegon empties himself inside you, crying out and kissing the side of your face over and over again, tasting heat and salt and your unnamed love for him. You can feel the serenity settling over him as if it’s your own pulse slowing, your own mind cleared like the horizon after a storm. You are irredeemably etched into each other. You are two sides of the same coin: too weightless, too rooted, unable to leave, unable to stay.

As you lay side by side in the moonlight, your fingers tangled in his hair, Aegon says: “You are the only thing that’s ever made me want to stop running.”

“You could stay. I want you to stay.”

“For a while.” He pulls you against him. You rest your head on his chest: ink, scars, slow thudding heartbeat. His fingertips draw invisible paths up the length of your spine. “Not forever. But for a while.”

She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“I don’t want to have to forget you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Not yet,” Aegon vows. It’s the only promise he can make. He kisses your forehead, sweeping the tears from your cheeks with his hands. “Not yet.”

[whoreish-behaviour]

Revenant 11

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10

Na'vi!Colonel Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Warnings >~< = none

You continuously paced the floor, your tail whipping behind you in nerves and your entire body rigid.

Something was wrong..

You didn't know how long Miles had been gone for, your body clock having been completely screwed since stepping foot on this ship.

Your head spun and you felt as if you could be sick.

You hated him.

You hated that your mind was reeling at where he could be, if he was safe. You hated him for making you care.

Unable to take the feeling of uselessness any longer, you treaded over to the bolted door.

Lifting your first, you slammed it against the door.

The surface vibrated under you, your hands continuing on and on until eventually you slowed to a stop.

No one was coming. Not even him.

You stifled the feeling of abandonment down, looking over your shoulder and at the window.

The ocean did little to calm you down, like it usually did. The realisation only further pushing you further down in your pool of worry.

This was the first time he had left you for so long in the many days you had been here.

You breathed out a shaking breath and sighed deeply.

However, you almost jumped out your skin as the door flew open, a body immediately coming through and into your space.

You immediately stepped back and hissed as a unfamiliar scent invaded your nose.

You zeroed in the tall figure standing over you, their head tilted down at you.

You squinted as the light bounced off their blue sunglasses, reflecting straight at you, eyes taking in the familiarity.

You relaxed once again when you recognised him, his green eyes furrowed but not surprised at your reaction.

'Let's go,' he moved his shoulder, allowing you passage.

You didn't budge.

'Move it.' His voice was more demanding this time and your ears barely flicked at the change in his tone.

Watching silently, you saw him lift his hand before running it down his face in frustration.

'You want to go home or not?'

You visibly perked up, ears raised to a point as you took in his words. Home?

He question had threw you for a loop, this whole time you didn't have a choice - you could use the excuse of loneliness for your actions with Miles.

Although you knew better..

But now?

Now there was no reason for you to be here, you were being given an out and no excuse to not take it.

No one would be here to force you to stay, so why did you want to so badly?

'Five seconds or I'm walking.' You snapped your eyes back to the man in front of you, his hand now back at his side.

He looked as perplexed as you probably did, his lips downturned into an almost soft snare, one ear up.

Knowing you'd never have the words, you nodded grimly - ears flattening as you crossed your arms over your chest.

'That's what I thought.' You looked down as he spoke, your regret already building in your stomach - tail stiff behind you.

A snapping of plastic made you look back up, eyebrows furrowed as you watched him step closer to you.

'I didn't say you won't be restrained, your always pulling stupid shit, come on.' He reasoned.

You didn't have it in you to fight, unwrapping your arms and holding out your wrists.

This would be a first.

Once you were secured, you felt a hand on your shoulder gently guiding you out the door and down the hallway, the sliding door audible.

You lip almost trembled as Miles and your's scent slowly dispersed to nothing, your feet instinctively slowing down, nose twitching to seek more.

You stumbled as you were shoved to pick up your pace, scowling over your shoulder.

This was what was supposed to happen.

You knew this would come one way or another.

So why was it so hard?

'This way, I'm flying you back.' You felt the hand on your shoulder push you left, your body obediently following - your fighting spirit no where to be seen.

The floor below you looked endless, you head bowed as your emotions fought in your chest.

However, you immediately planted you feet on the floor as soon as you heard it, mouth going agape as your ears twitched up.

In the distance you could hear Miles shouting, every cell in your body drumming to life at the mere sound of him.

This time the hand on your back couldn't move you even an inch, your feet unmoving.

Looking left, you saw steps going up to what seemed like some sort of landing - your body moving on instinct.

'Hey!' You felt the hand that was previously on your back move to grasp you forearm from behind.

You immediately shrugged him off, casting him a glare over your shoulder before taking off - Miles voice growing louder and louder.

You couldn't help the utter relief filling the pit in your stomach, that same feeling of safety taking over and he wasn't even in your eye sight yet.

Hurried footsteps could be heard behind you and you only pushed harder.

You felt a smile peeking as you came onto the landing, the various uniforms soldiers around you throwing you off slightly but not hindering you.

That was until you came closer to where they stood, their guns aimed at one thing only.

You steps slowed, your body freezing as you took in the sight before you.

A large net was hung just above the ship landing, holding what looked like a omatikayan child and one of your own.

Her bright blue skin contrasting against the younger child.

You breath left you as a third person was revealed, his arms tensing as he held onto the net - hissing to his captives below.

What was going on?..

Looking down, your eyes landed on Miles.

He was stood tall, arms crossed as he surveyed his catch, lips set into a disgusted scowl as the kids were dropped before him.

He wasn't phased at their panic and fight, instead only smirking down - tail swaying behind him as he spoke down to them.

At his normal tone, you weren't able to hear what he was saying - you almost didn't want to because as soon as he was finished, his crew were grabbing his captives.

You flinched at the little girls screams, your legs beginning to feel weak.

Because this was probably the biggest slap in the face, a hard reality check of the man you thought you knew.

The very same man that was now threatening what you knew to be three innocent lives, of children no less.

You didn't feel the hands on your arms once again, only their attempt to drag you away pulling you out of your head.

'Stop! Let go!' You angrily snarled, baring your teeth before completely spinning around.

Clearly blue sunglasses wasn't expecting your quick turn, his body unable to suspect you incoming hit.

You shoved your tied hands hard into his chest, his choked breath leaving him as you watched him stumble back.

Not giving him a second to fix his footing, you spun back around - your footsteps determined as you shoved you way through numerous smaller soldiers.

You walked all the way until you where behind him, you body stiff as stone.

You voice quivered as you called out to him, his ears perking up.

You watched at Miles looked over at you briefly, his brain probably not registering what he was seeing as he quickly double took his stare.

Your bottom lip shook as he turned and stared at you, his face showing nothing but pure surprise.

'What is this.?' You were quiet, eyes flicking over to the children who were now tied up - their cries unwavering.

You clenched your fists as his lack of response.

'Miles?!' You prodded, feeling your vision going blurry as your emotions took over, no physical pain mounting up to the piercing in your chest.

Everyone had gone silent, no one having two words to speak.

Miles felt has it his tongue weighed too much to move, no words being able to leave his lips.

What was he supposed to say?

The raw emotion on your face shook him to his core, the only immediate response coming to his head was that you needed to be taken into his arms.

Soothed until you were curled up into his side once again, your body completely relaxed and moulded to his.

However he knew he couldn't as the hundreds of eyes on him made him freeze.

Watching and guessing his next move.

He was their Colonel. Their leader. But you, you were only temporary.

He knew the only solution to ease the pain you were feeling was if another emotion to take over and completely block out your hurt, cloud your vision until you weren't able to think of anything but your hate for him.

Swallowing thickly, he looked left - eyes on the wall, unable to look at you as the words left his lips.

'Tie her up.'

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[fiddleabout]

(more grishava here)

There’s a town on the horizon, windows glowing in the fading sunlight as they crest a ridge.

Ava draws up to a stop, burrowing further into Beatrice’s cloak.  They’ve been trading off time with it since yesterday, since Ava fell and Beatrice caught her, since Beatrice pulled her out of a crevasse and offered her hand and her name.  

Beatrice stops next to her, hands folded together in front of her.  Ava glances sidelong at her, then back to the first town they’ve found since crawling out of the ocean.  The buildings are utilitarian dark wood and plaster, Ravkan in their dourness, with none of the bright colors Fjerda favors for their homes this far into the north where the days are shorter and nights longer.  

“We passed another hunting cabin,” Ava says eventually.  It’s not safe for her anywhere, in Ravka or in Fjerda, but it’s just as unsafe for Beatrice and the wolf’s head on her shoulder and Fjerdan accent here as it is for Ava. 

“I know,” Beatrice says.  She doesn’t look away from the town for a long moment, and Ava turns more fully towards her, follows the line of her profile against the twilight.  Last night, they had found an hunter’s cabin, and Beatrice had dug out a rickety bow and splintering arrows and disappeared while Ava built up a fire, returning half an hour later with a rabbit for dinner.  Ava had filled the quiet like she so often does, rambling about Diego and Keramzin and all the places she’s ever wanted to see, and then had started flinging questions rapid-fire at Beatrice.  It’s not the first time she’s tried to pry information out of Beatrice, but the first time she’s gotten a response, and she tucked away every new piece of knowledge like a gemstone.

Beatrice, Ava had learned, is two years older than her.  Her mother’s family was Fjerdan as far back as anyone can trace, but her father’s father was Shu, and Beatrice had entered the world looking more like him than anyone else and it had set her in her parents’ poor esteem from the day she was born.  She had been recruited into the druskelle when they came to the smoking husk of her village and found her burying her parents, quiet and contained and bursting with anger.  She’s a crack shot with a gun and a bow, excellent with a sword even by her own modest admission, but prefers hand to hand combat: the close quarters mean she’ll never forget that her opponent was a person just like she is.

(“Even grisha?” Ava had said, the last of her bland unseasoned dinner forgotten, captivated instead by the soft sound of Beatrice’s voice.

Beatrice had paused, gaze drifting towards the fire between them, teeth closing around her lower lip, a flash of white in the flickering dark of the cabin.

“Especially grisha,” she had said after a long moment.”)

“We should probably go there,” Ava says when Beatrice stays quiet.  “We wouldn’t make it to the town before it got too dark anyways.”

“You’re the sun summoner,” Beatrice points out.

Ava’s fingers clench, the sunlight burning in them aching to burst out.  “We should get going,” she says, turning and setting off towards the cabin they’d passed.

She determinedly doesn’t look back to see if Beatrice is following her, but the sound of arrows rattling in a quiver and boots crunching in snow tell her that Beatrice has set off after her.

Beatrice shoots another rabbit just before they make it to the cabin, and stays outside to dress it while Ava disappears inside wordlessly.  There’s wood but no tinderbox or flint, and she has to root through a dusty chest until she finds a dustier roll of maps and a magnifying glass wrapped up in them.  

The door opens just as she’s called the light to her palm and fed a stream of it through the glass, the magnification heating the light until the kindling catches.  She glances over towards Beatrice, mouth opening to crack a joke about honey, you’re home, but it snaps shut at the way Beatrice’s lips are pressed tight together as she stares at Ava’s hands, her own hand clenching around the bow and the dressed rabbit hanging from it.

“It doesn’t make me a witch,” Ava says carefully.  She likes Beatrice, with her quiet careful way of speaking and how she offers the cloak to Ava more often than not even if it means she’ll be cold; it had been easy, in the last day, to almost forget that they’re here now because Beatrice was part of the druskelle unit that captured Ava.  “Or a bad person.  Any more than being a druskelle makes someone a bad person.”

Beatrice stares for a long moment, jaw clenching visibly even across the dusty expanse of the cabin, and Ava can’t help but flick a ball of sunlight into her palm.  She twists her hand slowly, flexes her fingers as the light dances from one fingertip to another, curling and lazy, and straightens up from where she’d been crouched by the fire, turns to face Beatrice more fully.

“We’re not monsters.”  She halves the distance between them, bringing her other hand up and letting the light flow to it.  “Just people.  Grisha can be good or bad or anything they want to be, just like Fjerdans.”

Beatrice’s mouth twists, pulling to one side momentarily, and there’s a creak over the sound of the growing fire when her fist clenches around the bow still in her hand.  Ava stops an arm’s length away, hands out between them and sunlight winding around her fingers.  There’s still so much she hasn’t learned about her power, so much that no one could teach her because there’s never been anyone like her, but she knows how to control it, how to let the light play around her, and it paints Beatrice in soft warm light that gentles the dangerous black of her uniform.  There are crystals of ice in her hair that haven’t melted, glinting and shimmering with Ava’s light.

She reaches out with her free hand, hesitant, slow, and Ava’s breath tangles in her throat.  Beatrice’s hands pulled her out of the crevasse that nearly killed her, swam them to shore, fastened the cloak they’re sharing around Ava’s shoulders gently; her hand reaches, now, for the light that upended Ava’s entire life and Ava tilts towards her and the light follows, winding its way in bright tendrils between Beatrice’s fingers, along the lifeline on her palm, over the barest inch of wrist exposed from her sleeve.  

“When I was a child,” Beatrice says, quieter even than usual, eyes locked onto the sunlight in their hands.  “I was fascinated by grisha.”

Ava wants to step closer, wants to close the distance, wants to curl into Beatrice’s side without having to wait for the excuse of cold to justify it.  The want of it aches in her chest and nearly sends her power spiraling out of her control, a slip she hasn’t felt since her first days after the fold.  

“We’re taught that they’re dangerous, soulless, terrible.”  She turns her hand slowly within the light and Ava swears she can feel it deep in her chest.  “But I wanted to know more about them.  To understand what it was to be so connected to the world that I could control it.  I wanted to be grisha.”

Ava’s control slips, the light flaring and then fading away, leaving them both squinting and Beatrice’s hand hovering an inch over Ava’s palms.  “You what?”

Beatrice frowns, pulls her hand back, stares at it intently, as if touching Ava’s power would have marked her irrevocably.  

“It’s why my parents left me,” Beatrice says, still staring at her hand.  “I’d tried to go south, to find Ravka and the grisha there.  They caught me, and took me north to the woods and left me there.  By the time I made it home, an inferni had set the whole village on fire.  The druskelle took me in.”

“I’m sorry.”  Ava takes a half step closer.  Her palms burn from where Beatrice’s hand had been so closer, and she wants to reach for her, to feel the steady thunder of her pulse in her throat, the line of her cheekbone; she settles instead for settling her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders.  “For your parents, and for your village.  But that doesn’t make all grisha evil, or dangerous, or worth hunting.”

“The darkling is evil,” Beatrice says, shoulders tense in Ava’s hands.  

“The darkling is one person,” Ava counters.  “And he’s a particular brand of jackass that has nothing to do with him being grisha.”

Beatrice almost cracks a smile, and Ava’s fingers tighten at their hold.  She wants to reach for Beatrice’s smile, to make her laugh, to coax more of her-- not the druskelle, not the soldier, but Beatrice-- out into the open.

Beatrice clears her throat, shakes her head, half lifts the rabbit.  “We should--”

“Yeah,” Ava says.  Her hands don’t move for a protracted moment, not until a log pops in the fire and she yanks back.  “For sure.”

It’s only been just under a week, but it’s a familiar dance, Beatrice setting to spearing the rabbit on a spit and Ava hunting for anything resembling plates they can eat off of.  She pauses, head half in a crate that seems to be full of nothing but broken arrowheads, and stares across the small cabin to where Beatrice has shed her cloak and rolled up her sleeves to crouch in front of the fire.  The light from the fire dances across the sinewy lines of her forearms, flickering in the dark against her profile: the solemn slope of her brow, the stubborn sweep of her jaw, the freckles that Ava’s started to see behind her eyelids when she tries to sleep and dark hair rebraided loosely over her shoulder that Ava’s fingers itch to touch.

She’s in trouble, Ava realizes.  As if she didn’t have enough to worry about with the darkling hunting her for who-knows-what horrifying purpose, Fjerda hoping to assassinate her to keep Ravka crippled, a mystical stag she somehow has to find on her own; no, now she has to start developing feelings for a solemn, quiet, kind Fjerdan who’d been trained since she was ten years old to kill people like Ava.

She’s in so much trouble.

[smurphyse]

Wildflower Honey | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 10 of Routine Maintenance

Warnings: makeouts, first times, fingering, soft dom!Spencer, hickies, bruises, water sex, beach sex, subdrop, aftercare, crying after sex.

Summary: You decide to take Spencer to a secluded spot to rock his world. He turns the tables on you.

It neared two in the morning before Holly and Michelle emerged from Tucci's, hand in hand and grinning like madmen. Spencer couldn't help the smile that peeled open across his face at the sight. Good for them, they both deserved it. 

Honey stood a bit away from him, keeping her distance in front of her friends. Spencer didn't mind. It wasn't the first time a woman wanted to keep it from her friend that she was sleeping with him. It probably wouldn't be the last. 

Michelle made a beeline for Honey, scooping her up in a big hug. Honey set her chin on her shoulder and squeezed her back as Holly sidled up next to him. 

"Thank you for coming," he murmured with a sheepish grin. "I didn't think this was your scene, but I wasn't ready to do this alone."

Spencer shrugged, "Anytime, man."

Holly reached out a hand for Spencer to shake, and when he took it pulled him in for a bear hug. Spencer chuckled to himself and hugged him back as the girls whispered between themselves. 

"You guys wanna hit up Tooky's?" Holly asked as he pulled away. 

Spencer glanced over at Honey, who gave him a subtle shake of her head. He didn't really want to go back there anyway after what went down with Lonnie and Lloyd, or have a reminder of that horrible night. 

"I'm ready to head back," he said instead. All he really wanted to do was pound Honey into the mattress anyways. 

"I know it's not my business," Holly began, keeping his voice down while the girls chatted. He cleared his throat and adjusted as he stood in his uncomfortableness. "And I don't know what's going on, if anything is going on, but-."

"Hurt her and I'll get my ass kicked?"

Holly chuckled, "That… and just keep something in mind for me, man. She's rough around the edges, but she deserves the world. Even if it's just sex, which I don't want to hear about, respect her."

He kicked lightly at the ground and avoided Spencer's gaze. "You'll have friends here even when you leave, Honey included. We like you, so don't screw up your chance to come visit if you ever find yourself back this way."

"I won't," Spencer promised. He meant it, and he valued Holly's words. "Maybe I'll come back some day."

He didn't even know if he meant that last part, but it was nice to know the option was there. 

Holly nodded, and they said their goodbyes. Spencer made sure to open the door to the van for Honey before going around to his side, then they set off for Thunderbird. 

The dark highway spread out for miles, lonesome and scattered with a few errant off roads. The sky lay above them in a deep greenish blue, the redwoods and pines along the road shadowed in darkness. Spencer thought something was missing, and it took a bit to realize it was the fireflies. 

They didn't occur naturally in California. The Midwest was full of them in the summer, blinking lazily in the night air. The closest thing out here were the stars shining brightly above them. They glimmered across the horizon, disappearing into the far-off ocean. 

Music played softly through the speakers of Honey's beat up van. Spencer kept his hand on her thigh, just under the hem of her dress as he leaned against the door. It comforted him, as it had been years since he’d spent more than one night with a woman, let alone worked up to the point of touching her like this without having slept with her. He was looking forward to that, and three more weeks of easy sex and physical comfort. Maybe she’d even sleep next to him after.

He glanced over to check on her. It was late, nearing four in the morning. The wind from the cracked window blew her hair back, the light from the dash washing her in a teal glow. She was truly a beautiful woman, looking ethereal in the dim lighting. 

"Where are we going?" he asked after a while. Thunderbird had only been about forty minutes from the restaurant, and they'd been driving for over an hour. 

Honey smiled to herself, but she didn't look his way, instead focusing on the road ahead. "I want to show you something."

She didn't say anything else. He didn't press it. If she was going to murder him in the woods he was pretty sure he could over power her. If she wasn't, he'd been through enough with her to know he'd probably enjoy it. She'd been right about the camping trip with the guys, so he dropped it. 

Another hour later, and she turned onto an off road. The van jumped and protested with each bump, but Honey just pressed on. They drove for a good twenty minutes before she turned again, stopping just inside an enclave of trees. As she put it in park, Spencer looked over at her again. She just popped open her door and hopped out. Spencer followed, meeting her around the front of the van. 

She reached out a hand for him, and he took it. Her warm fingers clasped his loosely, and she took off further into the ocean of foliage. The sun began peeking through the trees, and she was heading straight toward it. He could still see the van behind him, glad it was still in his line of sight. 

Birdsong blossomed as she led him down a winding dirt road. Her sundress flowed behind her like a river, billowing in the breeze. They hit another curve in the direction of the sun, and she was lost in its shine as they stepped out of the trees. 

It took a minute for Spencer's eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did his breath caught in his chest. A riverbed lay before them, clear blue water trickling along lazily. Mountains of trees surrounded the lake, spread out as far as the eye could see. The sun made its way up the opposite side, blanketing the water in shadow and Spencer and Honey in shade. 

"Why did you bring me here?" Spencer asked quietly. It was so serene and perfect, he almost wanted to cry at this place's natural beauty. It was such an intimately hidden place, surely as secluded as parts of Honey, as parts of himself.

Honey squeezed his fingers, "I don't know. I just wanted to."

She turned to him with a soft smile and adventure gleaming in her eye, "How do you feel about a day away from Thunderbird?"

"Sounds like a dream."

Honey went back to the van and moved it closer to the riverbed, backing it up through the little winding road. She angled the back to face the bank, then opened up the trunk. She had everything one would need for an impromptu camping trip inside. A blanket was spread just outside of the van, a few camping chairs and a little meal kit. She even had a traveling trash can and some food in a cooler. She went quickly to work setting up a fire for the cool morning chill and made some coffee over the flames. 

Spencer lounged on a chair on the blue patterned blanket as she handed him one of those metal cups campers liked to use. Honey eased herself next to him and sighed happily. Steam rose from her mug as she held it delicately, her knees pulled up to her chest. She’d long since taken off her shoes, opting to walk around barefoot, her wild hair bouncing down around her shoulders.

This was exactly the place a woman like her belonged. A stunning creature sitting in one of the most beautiful places Spencer had ever been. 

“I love this place.” She spoke quietly, her voice far away as she lived through an old memory. She pointed off toward one of the ridges. “When I first found it, I thought for a moment I’d fallen off that cliff and died. I thought it was heaven.”

"How'd you find it?" he asked lightly, sipping from his mug. Everything out here was still, moving only in the way that was natural to it. It was the sort of peace Spencer had been searching for all this time. He was honored to be there. 

"When Ernie died, I was still too scared to go back in the ocean. I still don't like it, but I'm good with the rivers," she began, but it wasn't sad. That bright spirit glinted in her eye as she watched the scene before them. "I just started driving out to the middle of nowhere and hiking. I found this place a few years ago and I like to come here when I need a break."

"Found yourself needing a break?" he asked lightly. She nodded slowly, then looked over at him. 

"I don't know if you know this, but I shot two guys last week." Her tone was playful, but her eyes raged with the memory. "Plus, it's good to get away sometimes."

Spencer reached out a hand, and she clasped it without hesitation. He squeezed her fingers tight before threading them together. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

Honey looked at him sadly, "I'm sorry you took a bat to the face."

He chuckled and shrugged. "I've had worse."

The sun warmed them as it rose, blanketing them in the steady rise in temperature. Honey's skin lay awash in orange and pink as it broke through the clouds, her eyes gleaming in the light. She let go of his hand and set the coffee cup on the ground. 

Spencer watched curiously as she stood and stretched, letting out a sweet groan as her arms came down. Honey turned to him with a devilish grin. 

"I don't know about you, but I'm gonna cool down before it gets too hot."

Spencer was about to ask what she meant when her fingers laced underneath the hem of her dress. His jaw dropped as she pulled down a pair of pink satin panties. They dropped to the blanket and she stepped out of them, then pulled the sundress over her head. 

Her hair swung down, landing over her shoulders and back. Her naked body glimmered in the light, curvy in all the right places and made of perfect places to grab a handful. His heart nearly stopped beating in his chest at the sight. 

She leaned on one hip and smirked at him. 

"Care to join me?"

I was feeling pretty good about myself as I walked into the river. The water was warm from the summer, welcoming and safe as I stepped further in. Waiting until I was deep enough, I ducked below the surface to wet my hair. 

When I popped back up, pushing my locks back from my face, I spotted Spencer hurrying to undo his belt. He'd already stepped out of his shoes, fingers fumbling to unlatch the leather and pull his pants down. 

Feeling a bit sorry for him, and rather excited, I made my way back to him. The rocky shoreline was smooth and warm under my feet, his jaw agape as he watched me approach. Water dripped from my body as I reached him, my hands pushing his away gently. 

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, reveling in the hungry groan that escaped from him. Smoothly, I undid his belt as his tongue slid against mine, unzipping his pants and pulling his shirt from his waistline. Spencer's fingers deftly unbuttoned it as I slid my hand inside his pants, palming his growing length. 

He moaned into me as he tugged off his shirt and tossed it onto the blanket behind him, revealing his fuzzy chest and soft belly. I let my hands wander up his stomach, loving the slight twitches of his muscles as he pushed down his pants. 

I couldn't help myself, and I had to pull away just to get a good look at his cock. He was already hard and standing straight up, a slight curve at the end that I'd personally always enjoyed in a man. My hand wrapped around his thick length, hardly able to meet my fingertips together. When I gave him an experimental pump, he bucked forward in my hand.

Biting my lip, I looked up at him through my lashes and smiled. In a flash, Spencer scooped me up and pulled my hips flush against his. He kissed me furiously, pulling me by my leg to grind against my damp folds. 

I couldn't help but cling to him tightly, moaning against his lips as he stalked off toward the water. He pulled away to watch where he was stepping, so I moved onto his neck, nipping and sucking little bruises into his skin. 

The river welcomed us, enveloping our bodies in the warm water. Spencer’s strong hands held me close, safely keeping me in place as we went deeper. The birds sang through the trees, squirrels running up trunks and over logs. The trickling sound of the water drowned out our kissing like horny teenagers, but I didn't mind. 

I leaned back and sighed, my legs wrapped around his waist. Spencer held my hips as I lay back into the water, my hair following the flow of the current as I closed my eyes. I floated like that, just enjoying the feeling of someone else's hands on me. 

Without warning, Spencer went under the water, pulling me with him. I held my breath at the last moment, opening my eyes underneath to see him with puffy cheeks and trying not to smile. Our hands reached out in unison, tugging one another close and meeting in the middle. 

Bubbles popped their way to the surface as Spencer kissed me underneath the serene stream of water. His lips were warm, both of us holding our breaths until he pulled me back above to the fresh air. 

"You are fucking incredible," he panted, holding me close. Our naked bodies slid along one another, his dick pressing against my belly. I smiled and set my forehead against his, trying to catch my breath. His eyes were intense, glinting with mischief. Spencer's hand smoothed down my back and over my thigh, reaching between us. My jaw went a bit slack as his fingers brushed against my pussy, easing his way between my folds. 

"Just look at you," he murmured, his gaze unyielding as he watched me for a reaction. I sucked in a wavering breath as the pads of two thick fingers pushed against my entrance, swirling just enough to make me twitch in anticipation. He cocked his head, "Are you sure you want this?"

I nodded emphatically, "Spencer, please…"

That seemed to be all the permission he needed. In one swift movement, Spencer kissed me roughly, his free hand tangling into my damp hair, the other breeching my cunt under the surface. I moaned sharply, the sudden intrusion stretching my walls as two fingers pressed inside. 

My body tensed around him. Spencer eased his way in, curling and dragging the pads of his fingers as he pulled them out, only to push them back in. My chest heaved with each pump, my hips rocking back down to meet them. The water sloshed around us, but he was focused solely on me. 

He leaned his forehead against mine to watch me, his cheeks red and blotchy. I could feel his cock against my thigh, bobbing up and down with the water. His hair started to curl as it dried, his strong hands holding me exactly where he wanted. 

"Mmm, Spencer," I whined desperately, bucking my hips for my release. It had been so long, and my eyes fluttered shut in anticipation when he gripped my jaw suddenly and stopped his hand between my legs. 

Spencer angled me to look at him, his eyes blazing. I clenched around his fingers at the fire that lay there, and he leaned in to nip at my bottom lip before pulling away. 

"You're too tense," he growled in a low voice. His fingers could have bruised my cheeks by the way he held me, and all it did was make me want to fuck his hand until it cramped. "Let go. I'm gonna take care of you, but you have to let me. Stop trying to be in control all the time."

My eyes turned glassy at his words, his promise to get me where I wanted to go. I found myself nodding dumbly, and only then did he begin moving his fingers again, pumping me slowly and steadily picking up speed. 

"Keep your eyes on me," Spencer whispered. My thighs twitched around his hips. "I wanna watch you cum for me."

He kissed me then, his curling digits driving me closer and closer to the brink of insanity. I was floating on air, my face heating up and my body relaxing into his wants and wishes. He kept a firm grip on my jaw, watching intently in a way that with anyone else might have made me feel too seen, but it was deliciously dominating. 

I let my body take over, letting Spencer guide me instead of barreling toward a release. We had all the time in the world, and my hips rocked in motion with what he wanted. My breathing picked up, my chest heaving.

"There you go," Spencer murmured. The coil started to tighten in that panicking way, excitement coursing through my veins as my walls tightened around him. I watched him through hazy eyes with my mouth hung open as he cracked a cocky grin, his eyes swimming with desire. "Just take it, good girl. Let me watch."

The moan that burst from my chest was pathetic, my fingers tightening in his hair. My hips rolled, grinding down on his beautiful hand as that tension in my lower belly finally snapped. 

"Spencer!" I cried out into the wilderness, the mountains swallowing my ecstasy. My eyes rolled back as I pressed my forehead against his, my body shuddering and clamping down on him. 

Spencer slowed as it waned, and when he pulled himself from me I let out a whine. His arms encircled me, pulling me in for a bear hug. I went limp in his grasp, letting my head loll on his shoulder as I caught my breath. 

"Oh, that was perfect, perfect," he cooed sweetly in my ear. Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my head as he held me close. "Good girl…"

I closed my eyes, reveling in the comfort and his praise. Spencer rocked me back and forth under the water, lightly rubbing a hand up my spine. I felt him pull back a little to look at me. 

"Don't fall asleep on me now," he warned, and the next thing I knew he was carrying me out of the water. I clung limply to him, ready to doze even as the cool air hit my naked skin. 

Spencer set me gently on the blanket and smoothed back my hair. I grinned weakly up at him, and he cocked his head at me. "I'm not done with you, Honey."

My skin buzzed with electricity as Spencer smoothed his palms up my thighs. He squeezed now and then as he made his way up further, taking time to fondle my breasts. His hard cock stood at attention between his thighs, making me more excited than I could ever explain. I couldn't help but sigh as his broad hand feathered lightly over my throat, my eyes fluttering shut. 

"God, look at you," he breathed, looming over me. I reached out for him, and he complied without hesitation. Spencer leaned down and kissed me gently, his hand moving to cup my jaw. 

I moaned into his mouth as Spencer lowered himself on top of me. My head swam with the want I had for him, with the release I wanted to feel again. My arms encircled his neck, my legs tangling around his waist, but Spencer shook his head and pulled back. 

He tapped my nose, and I'm sure I looked ridiculous going cross eyed trying to follow it. "Just lie back and take it, okay?"

I made a face, "Why don't you want me to take control?"

Spencer chuckled and gave me a quick kiss. I tried to chase him for more, but he shoved me down into the blanket with a hand on my chest. He gave me a serious look, "I'm tired of watching you take care of everyone. I don't care what you do away from me over the next few weeks, but when we're together, I'm going to take care of you."

"Why?" I asked quietly. I enjoyed it, sure, but it had been so long since anyone had wanted to do so. At least in this way. I was everyone's rock, everyone else's safe place. 

His eyes were dark and delicious as he watched me in the morning light. "Because I said so. I don't have any control in this town, and you have too much of it. I think it's time we both have a change in scenery."

I nodded in acceptance. In truth, I wanted that. I wanted to let go, to have even the small opportunity to do so. Spencer reached out and grabbed my jaw again, looming darkly above. 

"Yes or no," he growled darkly. "I wanna hear you say it."

My back arched at the dominance in his voice. I shivered even in the morning heat, wriggling a bit to alleviate the pulsing between my legs. 

"Yes," I whispered shakily. 

"Good girl," he praised softly. Spencer moved himself onto his knees and grabbed his pants from our pile of clothing. I watched through hooded lids as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket, flipping it open until he slipped a condom wrapper from the old leather. 

I got up on my elbows, slowly making my way up to him as he put everything back into the pile. I was getting to my knees in front of him when he caught me, cocking a brow my way. 

"What did I just say?"

I shivered in delight at his commanding voice, but I just fluttered my lashes at him. I put one hand on his belly and smiled, the other reaching between us to stroke his cock. Spencer's jaw clenched, but he just watched me with a squint. 

"Can I put it on?" I asked sweetly. I twisted my wrist and gave him a light squeeze, delighting in the way his length pulsed under my palm. "Pretty please?"

This was new for me. I was used to sex being a fight for dominance, a quick battle for release. Sure, with Ernie, it had always been special and loving. We enjoyed trying new things and experimenting, but being completely submissive was something I hadn't tried. 

Spencer nodded, handing me the wrapper. I was glad he brought it. I was still on birth control and Rico and I hardly used them besides as an afterthought, but Spencer was new to me and I was new to him. Who knew who he'd slept around with or the last time he'd been tested. 

I kept my eyes trained on his as I opened it and pulled out the condom. Spencer's chest patched red, his lips kiss bitten and swollen as he watched me back. Shuffling closer, I licked my palm and wrapped my hand around his length, giving him a few twisting squeezes. 

His breathing picked up, his hips twitching in anticipation. Pinching the top of the latex lightly so it didn't bubble at the tip, I held him firm as I slid it down his dick. When it was secure, I smoothed my palms up his chest and leaned in for a kiss. 

His lips were warm as they pressed against mine, one hand going for the hair at the nape of my neck as the other slid down my body. I moaned into him, melting into his strong presence and falling into Spencer Reid. 

He gripped my ass harshly, grunting as he pulled me flush against him. In a swift move, his hand went down to the back of my thigh and tugged it up, and the next thing I knew I was on my back on the blanket again. 

Spencer made quick work of mounting me, grinding his length into my folds. I tangled my hands in his hair as he latched onto my neck, nipping and swiping his tongue to soothe. His hands wandered, squeezing and pinching only to smooth a hard palm over it after. I wriggled beneath him and whined for more friction, and soon enough he gave me what I wanted. 

His hand slipped between us, lining his thick head against my entrance. My thighs splayed open, wanting and ready for him. I struggled to relax as he breached me, he was so thick, but after a deep breath and a pause he pushed forward. He was so much larger than me, and my body struggled to accommodate his member as he pumped himself with my cunt. 

"Oh, god," I whispered shakily, my limbs trembling with each smooth roll of his hips. Spencer kept a firm hand in my hair as he did so. He had himself braced on his elbow, his body keeping me so in place I couldn't even rock back into him. 

My cheeks flushed with heat. My vision blurred as he filled my emptiness. The stretch burned, but it was worth it, so worth it. The deeper he went, the deeper I fell into his eyes. Spencer watched me with an intensity I'd never seen before, as though he were trying to read my mind and succeeding. 

My jaw wobbled as his hips rolled in a slow swirling motion. Spencer rocked me into the blanket, the packed sand shifting beneath me with each gentle thrust. His own face was patched red, but he was taking in my expression, watching for any sign. I knew instinctively that whatever one he found, he'd follow the road it led until he reached the end, then go find a new one. 

"So fucking tight," he groaned, his eyes fluttering back for a moment as he enjoyed himself. I clung to him limply, my mind running further away each time his cock pressed further inside me. "So wet and warm… this perfect pussy…"

I needed more. I needed to be beaten into submission by him, but it seemed Spencer had something else in mind to drive me crazy other than brutally fast and hard sex. 

His forehead pressed against mine as he picked up his pace. Spencer's breath fanned across my lips as he bottomed out, both of us sucking in deep as my body adjusted to him. Each roll of his hips was focused, poised to hit me deep and elicit a moan with every firm push of his head against my cervix. 

His eyes entranced me, my mind and problems drifting further away. I couldn't even remember my name. It didn't matter anyways. All I existed in at that moment was Spencer, in what he was giving me and what I took without hesitation. 

He kissed me with purpose, using each press of his lips to accentuate a thrust, a moan, an animalistic grunt from him. Even the rushing river faded into the void of my mind. Our breathing became the only sound I heard, the sharp slap of his hips hitting mine echoing around us.

"Spencer…" I whined, nuzzling close, desperately. Forceful huffs burst from my throat with each thrust, as though he were more than happy to fuck the breath out of me completely. 

My body took everything he gave. My mind fell into a fog, a hazy gray space of our breathing and the sweat on our skin. We slid together with ease, both of us moving in time and falling further into the sensation. 

He destroyed me in an instant with this. My ecstasy stood up tall in the flowers, all bright yellow blooms at the tip. He set me on fire, put out but left to smolder in the mid morning sun. That ember stayed lit, and as my orgasm crested, my trembling jaw fell open once more to call his name up to the skies and disappear in the clouds. 

"Cum for me," Spencer murmured against my lips as I chased him subconsciously. His entire being swallowed mine, absorbing me into his chest as we became one in that moment. "Crumble to pieces, Honey. Honey…"

I shattered, my gaze locked to his. Spencer never let up, never stumbled. He was this steady presence to cling to as a part of my mind burst into pebbles, the walls I'd kept up all these years exploding into rubble. I fell apart. I crumbled. 

The fire refused to dissipate, the smoldering flames lingering to be risen again. Spencer thrust hard one last time, capturing my lips with his. We slotted together perfectly, and I pulled him tightly to me as he moaned desperately into me. I felt him cum, the thick rush of heat that filled me even though he was protected. His groans turned to trembling grunts as he finished, nearly collapsing when he was done. 

Spencer pulled away just enough to press a trail of kisses down my jaw and neck, soft whispers fanning across my skin, "Perfect, perfect girl… good girl…"

His praises echoed through my bones, bouncing between my rib cage until they hit my heart. I reveled in them, his gentle hands brushing back my hair and his sweet words piercing me like a knife. 

"You're fucking amazing, Honey," he said one last time. We both sighed as he pulled out, then got to his knees. 

I found myself pulling up to sit. My arms wrapped around my knees, holding them close to my chest as he went about taking off the condom and cleaning himself up. I heard the crinkle of the wrapper, the sounds of it hitting the trash can, but my eyes were focused on the scenery around us. 

Emotions I couldn't place swirled in my chest. The broad expanse of forestry laid out before me like an endless haven. I was safe. I was satisfied. Still, my body shuddered as hot tears came suddenly. My jaw clenched tightly to keep them in check, but I couldn't stop the swell of vulnerability that surfaced. 

"Hey," Spencer said softly, his gentle hand landing on my shoulder. I couldn't look at him. His arms encircled me instead. I wished it felt like a vice, something to break free from, but again Spencer Reid was something solid and warm to lean against, to be consumed by. 

"I don't…I don't know what's wrong with me," I muttered. My skin melted into him, my arms leaving my knees to clutch his and keep them around me. "I need to be touched. I don't know why."

Spencer's legs spread to pull me between them, his thighs encasing my own. I molded to fit his bigger frame, letting him hold me and in the same moment holding him so tightly around me I might be crushed. 

"You're not doing anything wrong," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. I was so ashamed of being seen. I wanted to disappear to nothing with the weight of his eyes looking right through me. "You let go. You didn't lose control, you gave it up, and it was glorious. Just take a minute to get it back."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The scent of sweat and sex swirled around us, the faint plume of coffee beans just on the edge from the nearby fire. Its soft crackles grounded me, the steady rise and fall of his chest against my ribcage calming my fast beating heart. 

"Thank you for giving that to me," Spencer whispered after a while. 

I turned enough to look up at him, but he never let me go. My brows furrowed together as I swallowed a lump in my throat, not sure how to phrase what I wanted to ask. “Why did you want that?”

Spencer’s eyes widened a bit, but then they softened for me. One hand came up to cup my jaw and rub a light circle into my cheek. He sighed, “Let’s just say it’s been a long time since I’ve had any real intimacy with anyone. Sex is one thing, but this?”

His palm smoothed down my arm, lightly squeezing my bicep. He hugged me tighter and gave a little grunt with the effort. “I’m not in the place to ask anyone to trust me enough for this. I’m a fucking mess, a loner, and I’ve been running from my problems for years instead of just facing them. I can’t keep a girlfriend long enough for real intimacy to happen.” “Then why did you ask me for it?” I asked quietly, my voice shaking just enough to denote a bit of fear. Not of him. Of myself, of how much I enjoyed it.

“After what happened at Tooky’s…” Spencer trailed off, taking in a deep breath. He needed a moment to gather up his courage, opting to press his lips to my forehead to gather his thoughts. I leaned into it, sucking up any bit of comfort I could get in that instant. Spencer sighed against me, “I find myself trusting you. It’s been a long time and selfishly, I’d like to let myself do that more before I leave.”

He pulled back to look down at me, “Is that okay?”

His eyes were filled to the brim with a hesitant uncertainty I’d never really seen from him. He was so guarded, so angry and lonely, but as I watched him it seemed to strip away delicately to show a deep part of him. Spencer was vulnerable, and dreadfully alone. I was too.

“Yes,” I replied softly. “I want that too.”

The sweet smile that cracked open on his tired face made my heart swell. He seemed so relieved. Spencer kissed my forehead again before pulling me in close. We sat like that for a while, the slow trickling of the river taking away some of the emotions with it, flowing out to sea. 

"Wildflower Honey," Spencer murmured quietly as we dozed later, tangled up under a blanket found in the back of my van and holding one another tightly as the day lazily passed us by. We didn't talk much, or about anything but some of the things we were interested in sexually. 

He said it again, Wildflower Honey, in a soft whispering exhale as he fell asleep. He started to snore quietly, and I smiled against his fuzzy naked chest. We drifted to sleep in the evening heat. 

Wildflower Honey. 

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Notes: Oh, my heart o.O I love them so freaking MUCH. What do you think of softdom!Spencer and his need for intimacy?

Also, have you guy listened to any of the songs that these chapters are inspired by? Which one is your favorite?

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult @muffin-cup @simplyparker @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @fortheloveofwonderland @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @reidselle @randomhoex @scargarcia-magshotchner @stitchwrites @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @cle13 @aysixdy @elhotchner @directioner5life @elhotchner @loveeee2134 @preciousbabypeter @la-stuffs @stories-you-wont-hear @hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland @lokiandhisdagger @bellanutellababyyy @dark-night-sky-99 @straightforbuckybutgayfornatasha @maltamurdock @charelletjee @kansas-reid @zephyrmonkey @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencersprettyslut @im-sure-its-fine @tvdstelenaforever @teddylupintonks  @lilibet261 @kneelforloki @dirtytissuebox @almostgenerallyalways @whovian378 @cl0udyqu33n @thegettingbyp2 @averagestudent03 @the-sun-died-out @squishycalumxo @sebastiansstanswhore 

@louderfortheback @pandabiiissh @calebye

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