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#I nearly lost my eyes twice and yet that was nothing
tayyytayyy12 · 5 months
Note
Reader is Max’s secret girlfriend and she drives for McLaren Along sides Lando and she has a pretty serious crash and max somehow exposes their relationship
Also can I claim this emoji pls 🍋
I added the emoji 🙃
My masterlist
Eyes open
Being in a secret relationship wasn’t as hard as it was annoying. It was annoying in the sense that you and your boyfriend, Max, couldn’t bee seen being affectionate with each other in public.
Surprisingly, the two of you had done a pretty good job of keeping it a secret. The only person that had found out was Lando, but that’s just because the two of you can’t keep anything from each other. Sure, once or twice you nearly got caught getting touchy when you was on a podium together, or a little bit flirty during interviews, but as a whole, everyone was clueless.
That’s what flashed through you mind when it happened, how much you regretted hiding your relationship with Max, how you regretted hiding.
It wasn’t your fault, it was a wet race, the rain was terrible. You lost control and spun straight into the wall, hitting it, hard, very hard.
You thought about, Max, how much you loved him, about your best friend Lando, about your family, before your vision went black and the world faded away from around you.
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“Red flag, Max, box.”
Max groaned internally when he head theses words spoken through his radio, “For fucks sake, I said it was to bad to race in these conditions! Who was it, do you know?”
“A McLaren, not sure which one yet.”
Max’s world crumbled completely around him as he silently begged and prayed for you to be okay, to pray it wasn’t you in that car.
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Max was subconsciously holding his breath as he watched the screen in front of him, as they dragged your limp body form the car and try to help you, in anyway they can before they rushed her to the hospital.
He doesn’t know it, but tears are rolling down his face rapidly when the camera panned away from you and to your crying teammate, his face also glued to the screen to see if his best friend was okay.
Max was wracked with nerves as they took you to the hospital, wanting nothing more than to leave and be with you, so that’s what he did.
He told Christian that he had to go, and left before even giving the older man a chance to speak, just marching straight out and running to his car.
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The nurses said it was a waiting game. That you had hit your head hard and there was nothing they could do. They had to wait and see if you would wake up.
Max hadn’t left your side since he arrive sat the hospital, Lando arriving as soon as he could, bringing Max clothes to change into.
“Max, mate,” Lando began, voice scratchy from tears, “You’ve been here for nearly a full day, you’ve not drunk, eaten, showered or slept.”
“What’s your point?” Max began, eyes glued to your unconscious body as he held your hand in his, praying that you’d pull through.
“Why don’t you go home for a few hours, sleep, refresh yourself, I’ll look after her.”
Max turned towards him this time, “Are you stupid? You really think that I’m going to leave for even a second when theirs a chance that she won’t wake up? A chance that she’ll never fucking wake up Lando!”
Lando didn’t respond, just pointed behind max and muttered the words, “I’ll get a nurse.” Before leaving the room, Max turned back towards the bed to see you slowly opening your eyes before they eventually landed in your boyfriend.
“Hey.” You said, your voice dry.
“Oh my god.” He whispered tears filling his eyes and he kissed your forehead, “My god you scared me so much. So fucking much.”
“Why? Was the crash a but dramatic?”
“No, Y/n it was fucking terrifying. My god, I thought I was gonna loose you.”meh said, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed the back if your hand multiple times.
You smiled and rubbed your hand over his cheek, “Oh c’mon Verstappen. We both know you couldn’t get rid of me that easily.”
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aphroditessaturn · 9 months
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𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 || 𝐌. 𝐎.
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pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!reader (is a spider-woman, tho nothing specific)
summary || you have anger issues and it’s no secret to anyone in the Spider-Society, Miguel might as well be the only who can tame you. His methods are, quite effective…
warning || smut! p in vi, oral (female [fingering] and male receiving) throat fucking, nipple play, spanking if you squint
note || I had to get him out of my system and I'm not even done, this piece is for my anger issues and I need a Miguel to fuck them out of me. please reblog/comment and give feedback! I would love to know if you like my Miguel fics, I have so many more ideas
legend || mi luciérnaga = my firefly; abre la boca = open your mouth; buena niña = good girl; mocosa = brat; puta = whore; dios mío = my god; niña traviesa = naughty girl
BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST
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“I do not have anger issues, who does he think he is?” you asked to no one in particular while walking around Miguel. He let out a sigh, pressing his fingertips against temples.
“He’s like what? 15, yeah you don’t say that to someone twice your age,” you continued, your blood pressure building up with every second you thought about the incident.
Miguel tried to be calm, but the last mission worked him up and scratched on his nerves. The mission went fairly well, except for you going ballistic and the newcomer – Miles – commenting on it. Oh, and the target almost escaping because of Miles which lead to all of this.
“Can’t fucking believe this, he was the reason the mission almost failed, and he dares to say I have anger issues!” the last part you nearly screamed. You never paused, always moving around.
You couldn’t stay calm, couldn’t calm down. Every vein beneath your skin run hot, some just waiting to explode.
Suddenly both of you heard someone coming near Miguel’s platform, said Spider turned around with a glare. He knew exactly who came and what would happen if you saw him, but now there was no preventing it.
You walked to the edge of the platform and looked down at Miles, “came to apologize?” you asked and crossed your arms over your chest.
Miles looked confused, no he wasn’t here to apologize, and he would make that clear, “you threatened me, screamed at me because I let the anomaly almost escape. You overreacted,” he stated.
Your eyes squinted together, expression hardening. “You can’t do a thing right and accuse me of having anger issues? I do not have fucking anger issues!”
Just as you were about lounge at Miles, arms wrapped around your waist, “enough,” Miguel’s deep voice rang through your ears. Normally his voice would smooth you, but you were already too gone.
Your man however ignored that and pushed you behind him.
“Miles, we will talk about this later. You made a mistake -,” “what, you’re saying she didn’t go bonkers?” Miles didn’t want to accept that what you did was right.
“If you’d let me finish, you would know that she will get her fair share of consequences,” Miguel snapped at the young boy, while it made a small part of Miles feel better it only angered you more.
“Are you serious? You let that little shit get away with saying I’m in the wrong? He lost the target and we had to-,” you couldn’t finish your sentence. “Miles, leave,” Miguel’s voice was dark and left no room for back talk, he sounded scary to be honest.
Miles immediately left, knowing it was better for now and he needed to get away from you.
“We weren’t finished yet,” you barked at Miguel who didn’t bat an eye. You stalked up to him, trying to intimidate him – unsuccessfully. “Yes, we were and it’s time you calm down, mocosa,” he whispered and grabbed your waist.
You were manhandled onto his desk, wrists held together in his right hand. With his left hand he ripped down your suit, “you asshole! Can’t you-,” “yeah mocosa, stop your whining,” Miguel rolled his eyes.
Without warning he pushed pointer and middle finger into your drenched cunt, you gasped. Realising with just a few words he had you wet and in your rage you didn’t even notice.
He curled his fingers against your walls, your head fell back. Right hand letting go of your wrists and sliding down to your neck.
Miguel moved his head into the crook of your neck, kissing along your carotid artery.
A shudder run down your spine when you felt his sharp teeth graze your skin. You adored the feeling of his teeth piercing your skin as it made you feel a kind of pleasure nothing else brought you.
Miguel had easily picked up on that all those years ago and now used it taunt you, “niña traviesa,” he commented with a small smirk.
His fingers kept a slow pace, it was torture and Miguel knew that. “Miguel,” you snapped, a plead for more however the man above you wasn’t having it. “You think you can be a mocosa and I’ll just give you what you want?”
“I wasn’t a brat! It’s not my fault your spider people can’t do their job and then-,” “dios mío,” again Miguel cut you off, picking up the pace.
Hitting that spongy spot inside you which pulled a loud moan from your lips. As his fingers worked their magic on brining you closer to your high, Miguel run his tongue along your earlobe and gently nibbled on your skin. With your hands free you threaded them through his beautiful hair
You closed your eyes, the feeling just too wonderful and for a moment you lost yourself but quickly Miguel reminded you that this was a punishment.
“Look. At. Me,” his voice deep, commanding. His hand was suddenly in your hair, gripping it tight as he pulled your head back. It was a way to underline his words.
You looked at him with pleading eyes, god you loved this side of him. Miguel would make you take whatever he gave you if you could or not – you were surprised with how much you could actually take.
“I’ve barley did anything and you’re already putty in my hands,” he teased, slowing his pace down again. You wanted to scoff at his words.
He didn’t do ‘barley anything’, he almost bit into your sensitive neck, rubbed his fingertips over you bundle of nerves and hit your g-spot with every thrust. Miguel very well knew that all those little things would send your body into overdrive.
“You know exactly what you did!” you spit at him and drew a low chuckle from him, it amused him how you kept pushing, “are you that much of a puta for me that you can’t shut up?” “Guess if you want me to shut up then you have to fuck my-,” “fine.” Miguel retrieved his fingers from your cunt pulling a whine from you.
Both hands gripped your middle, manhandling you down to your knees. He gripped your chin with his thumb and pointer finger tilting your head up to look deep into your eyes.
Then his suit slowly started to dissolve, starting by his neck, and revealing his naked, toned chest, his broad shoulders, and muscled arms. The light of the screens dipped Miguel into a dangerous red which made him look like the devil in person.
Now he was completely naked, his mushroom formed tip hitting his lower abdomen. “Abre la boca,” when you didn’t instantly comply Miguel slapped your cheek, causing you to gasp and open your mouth, “now,” he added.
His thumb moved between your lips and pressed onto your tongue to make you kept your mouth open, “you’re going to be a buena niña and suck my cock.”
You caved and let your mouth hang open, tongue already awaiting him. At first, he gently placed his tip on your tongue, giving you a chance to taste his salty precum. Then without warning he thrusted his cock full on into your mouth.
You gagged as it hit the back of your throat, Miguel looked down on you. There was still a part of him that didn’t fit inside your mouth, but it was his mission to make sure it did.
Miguel began fucking your face, abusing your throat with his harsh thrusts. You looked up at him with teary eyes, his head was tipped back in pleasure and a deep groan fell from his lips. You clenched your thighs together, you were a whore for Miguel as it was already but something that always got you were his moans.
Miguel was vocal, so fucking vocal. For one his mouth never stopped running, but then there were his moans. They were deep, hoarse, and loud.
However, your throat couldn’t keep up with his pace any longer, though you loved the feeling of getting used by him too much. Salvia dripped from the corner of your mouth, his cock twitched in your mouth which was his cue to pull away.
You whimpered pathetically, of course Miguel catched up on that and wiped your mouth with his thumb. “Such a cock slut already, just for me,” he stroked over your hair before kneeling down your level and hosting up into his arms. Your back hit his desk, legs dangling over the edge.
“What hermosa? No, smart comment?” Miguel teased with a smirk, you couldn’t say a word. Your throat hurt, no tone would come from your lips.
Miguel dipped his head down, teeth closing around your nipple while his right hand grabbed your breast. Massaging it as his tongue lapped on your nipple, causing you to whimper again. In response your man slapped your breast making you moan, “fuck,” your voice barely audible, throaty thanks to Miguel.
Switching sides he sucked on your right nipple, your hand coming up to grab his hair and pulling on his roots. “Ay, dios mío,” Miguel moaned, loudly.
He pinched your neglected nipple causing you to arch your back and a line of goosebumps to adorn your skin.
Suddenly you felt his tip stroke over your drenched entrance, distracted by his work on your breasts you hadn’t noticed immediately.
“Miguel,” you whispered and in the next moment he had plunged his huge cock into your cunt. A pained yet pleasurable moan left your body, loud and hoarse.
His cock was big, and thick, god even after all this years you needed time to adjust to his size. You could feel those veins, how he stretched you out. “Don’t fret mi luciérnaga, I’m not fully inside you yet,” Miguel whispered against your lips before kissing you.
You loved his kisses, they were full of fire and passion. Miguel kissed you like he owned you – he did, and it was one of your favourite things. His lips were so soft and warm, sliding over yours before his teeth bit into your bottom lip.
“After all those years and you’re still so tight,” he gushed and slowly pushed deeper inside you, lifting his head to look at you with a smirk.
“Feel that mi luciérnaga? Feel me deep inside your belly,” Miguel pressed his hand onto your stomach, feeling his tip bulge out, “am I too big for you?” he taunted.
You didn’t know what possesed you, but something did, “you wish,” you snapped. Miguel looked dumbfounded for a second before his expression turned into a glare, “guess my mocosa is back.”
He pulled out all the way before harshly pushing back in with his full length, cunt pulsing around him as he pounded into you without mercy. You couldn’t catch a break, he constantly hit your sensitive spot, “you like it, huh, like me fucking you like the puta you are,” aside from his cock pushing you into an abyss of pleasure, Miguel’s voice made you shiver.
It also didn’t help that he groaned uncontrollably, growling when you tightened around him. You were close, so fucking close and he knew it.
Miguel wrapped your legs tight around his waist to keep you close. His thrusts became harsher, and his thumb pressed down on your bundle of nerves, drawing hard circles.
His pace was animalistic, “look at you, mi luciérnaga already cock drunk. That’s what you need, someone to fuck all the anger out of you, fuck you dumb.” You couldn’t say anything, only unidentified words came past your lips.
Your high was near, it came and washed over you like a fresh shower, “mhm, come for me, buena niña,” Miguel only strengthened it.
“I’m not finished yet,” he stated and manhandled you, so your back was turned to him.
All the while still having his cock in your needy cunt and fucking you through your orgasm. His hands gripped your ass as he rutted into you, “Miguel,” you whined, holding onto his desk, “come on where’s your fire mi luciérnaga?” he slapped your ass.
You had nothing in you anymore, your head was completely empty. As much as would’ve wanted, you couldn’t. You just laid there, enjoying the pleasure, and taking everything Miguel gave you.
“Maldito infierno,” he cursed as he reached his orgasm, for a moment he stilled inside you and painted your velvet walls with his cum. Filling you up to the brim, not pulling out.
He slid his hand around you and pulled you against his broad chest, right hand wrapping around your throat like a necklace.
“How you feeling mi luciérnaga,” he whispered, softly stroking your sides while you closed your eyes.
“’m fine, Miggy,” you mused laying your head on his shoulders. Everything felt at peace, you were calm and had no issues with anything.
You could just lean against Miguel and he would take of you. He scooped you up and slowly pulled out to make sure he didn't hurt you, his cum leaking out of your cunt. A sight Miguel could never forget – one he didn't want to forget.
Miguel went to your universe, laying you into your bed and cleaning you up. Meanwhile you dazed around, until he joined you in bed.
"I don't have anger issues," you muttered into him as you cuddled up against him.
He covered you two with the blanket, "no, you don't," he agreed and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. You were fast asleep, tired and spend while Miguel admired your beauty.
You have anger issues, always will but Miguel knew an affective method to control them. Add to that he loved your fire, needed it.
And Miles did fuck up.
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please reblog/comment and give feedback! I would love to know if you like my Miguel fics, I have so many more ideas
BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST
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lewmagoo · 8 months
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i bleed like a wolf | rhett abbott
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part two of a curse i cannot lift
description: in which he takes back what's rightfully his
warnings: 18+ only, werewolf au, smut, p in v sex, pregnancy, perry abbott, murder, violence, blood, kidnapping, angst, allusions to torture, character death, gun violence
pairing: werewolf!rhett abott x f!werewolf!reader
listen to the playlist here
notes: this is the third part of my 'the wolf' series! be sure to read the previous part here. access the series masterlist here
dedication: to @lovinglyeternal, without you this series wouldn't have been born. also to @bro-ooke; thanks for beta reading this for me!
Rhett had no recollection of being led into the kitchen, but he soon found himself seated at the old wooden table while his mother handed him a glass of water and told him to drink. He barely registered Perry and his father, trailing in after him. 
The hand that held the glass shook. He felt like he was in the midst of an earthquake. Everything was spinning, spiraling, teetering out of control. 
The kitchen was a flurry of activity and voices. Perry wanted to head toward town to search for Amy. But Rhett was frozen, unable to move. How could he, when his entire world had just shattered to pieces around him? The thought of you being gone forever was more than he could bear. 
But unbeknownst to him, there was still a glimmer of hope. A little black wolf pup was running as fast as her little legs would take her, following the road home by muscle memory. She had to get home, had to find her father, had to find Uncle Rhett and tell him what had happened. 
However, as small as she was, It took her quite a while to get home, and by the time she crossed the entrance to the reservation, it was well past nightfall, and nearly sunrise the next day. She was panting heavily, exhausted and overheated. But she couldn’t let herself succumb to that exhaustion yet. 
She could see her grandparents’ house just up ahead. If she could just run a little more, she would make it. She would be safe. 
Back in the Abbott household, nothing had been resolved. Rhett was in some form of shock, it seemed. Cecilia had already snapped at Perry twice, telling him to get out of his brother’s face when he got antsy and demanding. 
Rhett still held the truck keys tightly in his palm. He wouldn’t let go. Even after they’d begun to dig into his flesh. Perry had even tried to wrench them out of his grasp, but Rhett was strong, and in his state of shock there was no reasoning with him. 
“Goddammit, we’ve gotta do something!” Perry exclaimed. “I can’t lose Amy too! Not after what happened to Rebecca. I can’t!”
That seemed to snap Rhett out of his limbo. His eyes narrowed, and he stared straight ahead as he broke the silence. “You can’t lose Amy too?” He spoke, his voice trembling. “You lost Rebecca because of your own fuckin’ stupidity. That was all you. And for all you know she’s probably out there still alive and well! But I just lost my…I lost…” He couldn’t get the words out. My wife and baby. 
Perry stared at his brother. He opened his mouth to reply in anger, but he was interrupted by the sound of distressed yipping at the door, followed by loud scratching against the wood. Everyone shared confused looks before Cecilia rushed forward, pushing past her sons to open the back door. 
The doorknob smacked against the wall as she let it go, and a choked gasp tore itself from her throat as she looked down, taking in the sight of a panicked little pup. She picked up on the little one’s scent, and she knew immediately that it was her granddaughter. 
“Dear God in heaven!” She exclaimed, bending to take the exhausted wolf into her arms. She turned to face the three men, who all wore shocked expressions. Rhett shot out of his seat. He knew her by scent, too. So did Royal and Perry. 
Everyone started talking at once, Perry demanding his daughter be handed to him, Rhett asking if he could talk to her, until finally, Cecilia held up a hand. “Enough! Can’t you see the poor baby is scared out of her mind?! Let me take care of her and then you can ask her questions!” She exclaimed. 
“Ma…” Rhett breathed as she walked past him. He was trembling, his eyes alight with tears. 
She paused, her face softening as she placed a gentle hand against his chest. “I know. Just let me get her settled and we’ll see if we can get ya some answers.”
He watched helplessly as his mother walked away with Amy in her arms. That little pup was the only one with answers on what had happened to you. Rhett’s only lifeline. 
Slowly, he trailed after his mother, but did not follow her up the stairs. As desperate as he was to get answers, he didn’t want to put the child through any more stress. So he lowered himself down to sit on the bottom step, and he put his head in his shaking hands, allowing himself to weep openly into his palms. 
Meanwhile, in a place not far from the wolf reservation, Luke and Billy Tillerson were just pulling into the driveway of the Tillerson Ranch. Patricia was eagerly waiting on the doorstep with a cigarette perched between her fingers. 
“Did you put the collar on her?” She called out as the boys climbed out and rounded the truck to open the bed. 
“Yeah! Hope it’s on right!” Luke called back. 
Patricia watched as her sons lifted your unconscious body out of the truck bed, a thick, metal collar fastened around your neck. As they carried you to the doorstep, she stopped them, reaching out to tug on the collar. “It’s on right. The light is green.”
“You’re sure this will keep them from being able to track her?” Billy asked curiously. 
“Your father really taught you nothing? Of course I’m sure. As soon as you put this on, he completely lost the ability to sense her. For all he knows, she’s dead. Now go ahead and get her down into the bunker. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
Luke bit back a reply at the jab at his father, and instead moved to take you down into the belly of the house. Hunting was not something he or Billy had practiced in a long time. Patricia had been the one who pushed it. After she left, Wayne didn’t continue to train them in any way. They didn’t hone their skills or learn any of the new technology being produced for hunting. 
While yes, werewolf hunting was illegal, it didn’t stop groups of people from participating in it. They’d just learned to do it discreetly to avoid detection. It was an industry that generated millions of dollars. 
Patricia was one of the best hunters in the world. She’d even had a hand in producing some of the most elite pieces of hunting equipment out there. Including the collar around your neck. 
It acted as a sort of cloaking device, interfering with the ability mates had to sense each other. As long as you wore it, it would be impossible for Rhett to find you just by sense alone. It also had a few other neat little features. Such as inhibiting one’s ability to shift. With the collar around your neck, you would not be able to shift into wolf form, at least not without experiencing excruciating pain. If you tried too hard, it might even kill you. 
But you were entirely unaware, still out cold as Luke and Billy took you beneath the house and into the old bunker that had once been used to keep hunting equipment, and, contain the occasional werewolf captive. 
You were deposited into a cell, and a chain attached to the wall was then fastened to your collar, effectively anchoring you in place. You were now a prisoner, with no chance of escape. 
Back at the Abbott place, the atmosphere was tense. Rhett wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He’d been crouched on those steps the entire time, raking his hands through his hair, his mind racing as he imagined all the scenarios. What had happened to you? How had Amy escaped? Was there still a chance that you were alive?
Rhett was no fool. He was smart, and part of him had a sinking feeling that this was no accident or freak occurrence. And if he had to guess, he would put the Tillersons behind this, because they were the ones with a personal vendetta. 
But he didn’t know that for sure yet, so he remained there, crouched on the steps, agonizing over the thought of harm coming to you and his unborn child. The two greatest loves of his life. 
He was nothing without you. A shell of himself. A half of a whole. Werewolves mated for life, and to lose that kind of bond? To be stripped of one’s other half? The pain was unbearable. Unfathomable. 
“Rhett.”
The voice of his mother drew his attention to the top of the stairs. Cecilia was gazing down at him, a bleak expression on her face. His heart dropped, and he stood, his legs trembling. 
“You need to come up here.”
So he did. Moving on autopilot, he took the steps two at a time. In the meantime, Perry had heard Cecilia’s voice, and he stepped out of the kitchen, eager to follow after Rhett. 
“What’s going on?” He demanded. “Is Amy okay?”
“I just need Rhett right now,” she tried to reason. 
He grabbed the railing, standing at the foot of the steps. “No! She’s my daughter, let me see her!”
“Perry, I am not asking you, I am telling you, stay down there!” She exclaimed. “You’ll see your daughter soon enough. I am not gonna stress her out more than she already is. You’ll see her one at a time, and that’s final!” 
“Ma, get outta the way,” he threatened, already up the steps, facing her, standing a head taller. But Cecilia wasn’t backing down. 
What mattered most was finding out what happened to you. She didn’t like keeping Perry from his child, but she knew he would only inflame the situation if he got involved, and Rhett was already on edge as it was. Not to mention how fragile Amy was after what she’d experienced. Cecilia didn’t want to add to her granddaughter’s stress. 
Behind her, Rhett was easing open the door to Amy’s room, and his eyes flickered around the dimly lit space, soon falling upon his niece, who had returned to her human form. She was curled up in the bed, clutching her favorite plush animal to her chest. 
When she heard him come in, she lifted her head, then moved to sit upright. “U-Uncle Rhett!” She cried. Immediately, her bright eyes filled with tears. 
Rhett hurried to her bedside, kneeling alongside it. “I’m here,” he whispered, taking both of her little hands in his own much larger one. “I’m right here.”
“I’m sorry!” She pulled her hands away to throw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry! I-I tried to stop them! I tried to get them to let go!” She wailed. 
“Who, baby? Who?” He asked, leaning back to look into her tearful face. He lifted his hands to hold her damp cheeks. 
“Luke and Billy! They fo-followed us and then they took her away!”
He stared at her. His own eyes welled with molten tears. “Did…did they…” he could hardly bring himself to say the words. He had to force them out, and they were bitter on his tongue. “Amy, is she dead?”
“I-I don’t know!” She whimpered. “I shifted and then I hid! But I…I heard them say something about how they got what they came for.”
It was the tremor he noticed first. Wracking through the very center of his being, branching out through his extremities. His hands twitched against her face, and he pulled them away. His chest constricted, tightening like someone had just wrapped a length of rope around him and pulled it taut. 
This was what he’d suspected. But it still felt like an ice-cold dagger had been driven into his heart. It took his breath away, and he stumbled backward, away from his niece. 
His legs were moving of their own accord as he turned, yanking the bedroom door open and ambling out into the hall. He was vibrating. Heat rushing through every inch of his being. He felt as if he was outside of himself. Not of his own body. 
He found Perry still at the top of the steps, arguing with Cecilia. The eldest Abbott looked up to find his brother approaching. In the shadow of the hallway, he caught sight of the murderous glint in his eyes. 
“What have you done?” The snarl that left Rhett’s throat was inhuman. His chest heaved. His hands shook. Cecilia turned around, and when she saw Rhett’s face, her heart dropped. 
She had seen this look many times before on Perry. Raw, untamed, unchecked rage. But she had never seen it on Rhett. Not once. He was always the one who had perfect control over his wolf. Always the one that never shifted out of anger. Always the one who was very aware of his nature and kept it in check. 
Now, here he stood, his eyes glowing yellow, and she knew that this was the very first moment Rhett was going to lose control entirely. And something in her also knew there was no talking him off the ledge. She stepped out from between her sons, knowing that what was about to happen was inevitable. 
“This is all your fault,” Rhett growled low in his chest. He took one, two, three steps closer. 
“What the fuck did I–”
“I told you to confess!” He roared. “But you didn’t! You’re a fuckin’ coward!”
“I couldn’t let them take me away from Amy!”
“Oh bull-fuckin’-shit! They stole everythin’ from me because they think that I…they think that…”
Rhett couldn’t get the words out. He was too overwhelmed. His body shook, and he knew he couldn’t control it. His fists were clenched at his sides, claws drawing blood as they dug into the skin of his palms. His mouth parted as his fangs grew. His breathing was labored and animalistic. 
“He was trying to take the land from us! I did us all a favor!” Perry shot back. 
Rhett’s eyes widened. “A favor?! A favor?! You murdered him in cold blood! All because he made a comment about your wife! Who, by the way, left you because she was fuckin’ terrified of you, you abusive piece of shit!”
That line was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Perry froze, his own eyes glowing like fiery embers. Then, within a split second, both brothers were lunging at each other, the two of them tumbling down the steps in a mess of claws and fangs, growling like wild beasts. 
Cecilia was shouting. Yelling for Royal to do something, anything. Amy came running out of her room at the sound of the commotion, ignoring her grandmother’s pleas for her to go back inside, to get into bed and rest like she was supposed to. 
“No!” The little girl cried out, ducking out of Cecilia’s reach as she scrambled down the steps. “Stop! Please, stop!” Suddenly, her father and uncle were no longer men. They had both transformed into wolves, snarling and snapping, clawing at the other. 
“Please! No!” Amy was screaming, terrified that one would kill the other. Royal intervened, pulling the child away from the two animals.
“Get back upstairs!” He shouted, handing her off to Cecilia’s waiting arms. 
“Royal! Get them apart! They’ll fuckin’ kill each other!” The woman yelled as she held a struggling Amy against her chest. 
Royal turned, just as a blood-curdling yelp cut through the air as Perry’s wolf gained dominance over Rhett. Their father threw himself between the two wolves, shouting, desperately trying to keep them at bay. He knew that Perry would kill Rhett if he didn’t stop him. The wolf had already overpowered him as it was. 
Finally, after much struggle, Royal managed to wrench Perry off of Rhett, dragging the wolf across the room to put space between the two. 
“ENOUGH!” The Abbott patriarch bellowed, eyes flashing. 
Both wolves heeled. 
“I’m not gonna let you fuckin’ kill each other! Get back in your human form so we can talk about this like civil folk!”
It was Rhett who shifted back first. His human body was bloodied, crimson glistening along his neck and torso from the scrape of claws and teeth. But he would heal just fine. 
Chest heaving, he stepped back toward the stairs, where he snatched his jeans, quick to tug them back on. His shirt was too far gone, it had been torn to shreds amid his transformation and lunging at Perry. 
Rhett was still shaking, and he struggled to get his belt refastened as the tremors ran through his fingers. Across the room, Perry was still in wolf form, growling lowly at Rhett as Royal stepped in to hold the animal back. 
Rhett locked eyes with the wolf. “Quit hidin’ behind your fuckin’ wolf and face me as a man!” He snapped, voice raw. “If you think you’re gon’ kill me, you got another thing comin’.”
Finally, Perry returned to human, though he was still vibrating with rage. “I should’ve killed you!” He snarled wildly at his younger brother. 
“You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?! We don’t kill pack members!” Rhett shouted back. Perry tried to yell something in response, but Rhett shook his head. “No, you shut your fuckin’ mouth. You’re gonna make this right, okay?! I’m takin’ you to the Tillersons right now and you’re gonna tell ‘em everything.”
Perry’s eyes widened, his face paling. “I’m not doing that! They’ll kill me!!” 
Rhett laughed incredulously. “After what you did?! I’d say it’s fuckin’ deserved! An eye for an eye! You’re the reason my mate was taken from me! So you can pay for your crime! A fair price to pay after I lost everything!”
But Perry didn’t like that. He turned to his father. “You said you’d talk him off the ledge!” He exclaimed. 
Rhett froze. His gaze flickered to Royal. “What the fuck does he mean by that?”
His father looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I…” He started, unsure of what to say. 
A sick feeling roiled in Rhett’s gut. “You knew?! This whole time you knew he killed Trevor and you kept it a secret?!” 
“I was tryin’ to protect the pack!” Royal defended. 
“Yeah?! Well you’ve done a real bang-up job, Dad! Fantastic, really!” Rhett bitterly replied, his chest heaving, his eyes alight with tears. “Both of you are to blame for this! You’re comin’ with me to the damn Tillerson Ranch, we’re settin’ this right!”
“Son, that’s a death sentence! They’ll shoot us on sight!” 
Rhett stood there in the middle of the hallway, staring at his father. “You…you really don’t…” he couldn’t get the words out. He took a moment to breathe in deep, grounding himself so he didn’t shift again. “Th-they took my wife and baby from me. Does that mean nothing to you?!”
Both men remained dead silent, and Rhett scoffed, the sting of betrayal flashing through his chest. “I wouldn’t expect Perry to know what it’s like since Rebecca wasn’t his mate. But you should know, Dad. What if they took Ma from you?”
Royal hesitated, and then bowed his head. “I…I thought I was doin’ what was best for the pack. I was tryin’ to protect my son.”
“I’m your son too!” Rhett cried. If anything, this situation had shown him how broken his family truly was. 
He took a deep breath, letting his eyes drift shut. He knew what had to be done, and he was tired of arguing. “The three of us are goin’ to the Tillersons to sort this mess out. But first, I’m callin’ the sheriff. She needs to be involved if we’re gonna do this right.”
He didn’t give a shit if Perry and Royal didn’t like it. He had to find you. Had to know what fate you’d met. And if he truly had lost you, he would take you and give you a proper ceremonial burial, as you deserved. 
Little did he know that you were still very much alive. 
In the depths of the bunker beneath the Tillerson house, you were just beginning to stir from unconsciousness. You were incredibly groggy, and your limbs felt like they were filled with lead. 
The first thing you noticed was the hard concrete, cold beneath you. The second thing you noticed was the thick, restrictive collar around your neck. 
And then, it all came rushing back. You gasped sharply, scrambling to your feet, suddenly alert as your panicked eyes took in your surroundings. Metal rattled against metal, and you looked down to find that you were chained to the wall. 
“Don’t bother trying to escape,” a mellow female voice reached your ears. “That collar around your neck inhibits your abilities. You won’t be able to use your strength to get free.”
You growled, whirling around to face the woman who stood in the shadows just outside your cell. 
“Where am I?!” You demanded.
“You’re somewhere hidden. Your husband won’t be able to sense you. He has no idea where you are.”
Your eyes flashed gleaming yellow. “What do you want with me?! And where’s Amy?!”
“I don’t know who Amy is. But I do know that you’re going to tell us everything we want to know.”
You snapped at her, and she laughed. “What, are you trying to scare me? Honey, you can’t hurt me as long as you’ve got that collar on. You try to transform, it’ll probably kill you.”
That got your attention, and you drew back. You then placed a hand against your abdomen, not willing to do anything that could potentially harm your baby. 
“Luke!” The woman called out, and seconds later, he appeared in the corridor. 
“Take the wolf out of its cage. It’s time we question it.”
She spoke of you as if you weren’t there, reducing you to an animal, rather than a person. “I have a name, you know,” you spat. 
The woman scoffed. “And I don’t care to know it. You’re nothing more than a wolf to me. I’d have killed you and sold your pelt already, if I didn’t need you at the moment.”
With that, she walked away, leaving Luke to unlock your cell.
“Why are you doing this?” You asked him. But part of you knew why. Whatever issue the Tillersons had come to your doorstep with the other night was the reason for this. 
Luke remained silent as he stepped toward you. Frightened, you backed into the corner. “What are you doing?!”
“Just gonna ask you a couple questions,” He simply said as he readied the key to unlock the chain holding you to the wall. 
“Why can’t you ask them in here?” 
He didn’t reply. You whimpered, making yourself as small as possible against the wall. Normally, you would fight tooth and nail and shift into your wolf, but you were terrified of what the collar might do to you if you tried. 
“No!” You shrieked when he reached for you. 
“Please don’t make this difficult. I don’t want to have to sedate you again.”
“No! No! No!” But he’d already grabbed you, and try as you might, you couldn’t break free from his grasp. Your normally heightened strength had been reduced to human weakness. Luke was now much stronger than you. 
He dragged you out of the cell and down the corridor, where Patricia was waiting impatiently. There was a steel examination table in the middle of the room. An overhead light illuminated it. 
Your heart began to pound in your chest. There were restraints on the table. You knew instantly that you were going to be tied down. To your right, you saw an array of tools and weapons. Things that made your stomach turn. You knew they were going to be used on you. 
“Wait! Wait!” You cried. “Please! You can’t! I-I’m pregnant!” Ice-cold terror was rushing through your veins at the thought of harm coming to your baby through whatever inhumane means of questioning they used on you. 
That gave Luke pause. He looked at his mother. “Mom, wha–”
“Don’t tell me you believe her?” Patricia cut him off. “She’s lying! Trying to get us to feel sorry for her! Now get her on the table!”
“No! I’m not lying, please!” You wept. “I’m just over thirteen weeks along!”
But it did nothing to stop the inevitable. Luke wrestled you into the table and fastened you down so you couldn’t escape. Then, Patricia was standing over you. 
“If you tell us everything we need to know, then we won’t hurt you or your baby.”
“What do you want to know?!” 
“What did your husband do to my son?”
You stared at her. “He didn’t do anything!” You replied. 
Patricia laughed. “You expect me to believe that? Trevor went to talk to your husband the other day and then he disappeared. You don’t find that suspicious?”
You were beginning to piece it all together. The reason for Luke and Billy’s visit the other night. The reason Rhett had been so tense and unlike himself. You’d caught bits and pieces of the conversation he’d had with the brothers the night they showed up on your doorstep. Rhett had sounded surprised. You knew he hadn’t done anything to Trevor. He wasn’t like that. 
“Wh-when did Trevor come to talk to him?” You asked. 
Patricia stepped over to the table of items, seemingly deciding which one she wanted to use on you. “Sometime Monday morning. He never came home. So what happened? Did Rhett kill him?”
“Rhett was with me! We were at a checkup with my midwife!” You tried to reason. 
“You wolves will say anything to avoid consequence.” She pulled out what looked to be a stun baton. She pressed the button and electricity crackled to life at the end of it. “I’ll ask you again. What. Happened. To. Trevor?”
“I don’t know! I swear I don’t!” 
Your vision went white when the electricity came in contact with your body. 
Meanwhile, back on the reservation, Rhett was racing against the clock. He’d called the sheriff, and she was already on her way. This was going to end with his brother going to jail, and Rhett couldn’t find it in his heart to feel sorry for him. Not after Perry’s actions had resulted in Rhett losing what was most precious to him. 
Joy Hawk had no idea what she was getting herself into when Rhett called her that evening as she was sitting down to dinner with her wife and daughter. The urgency in his voice told her that something was dead wrong. He wouldn’t say why he was calling, just that he needed her to come to the wolf reservation immediately. 
She kissed her daughter on the head and reluctantly informed her wife that she had to miss dinner. She tried not to let her daughter’s sad expression affect her, but it made her chest ache as she walked out the front door and latched it behind her. 
It took her twenty-five minutes to reach the Abbott property, and when she did, Rhett was scrambling outside to meet her. When she saw the desperation in his eyes, her brow furrowed in concern.
“What’s goin’ on?” She asked. 
“My wife, she…she’s gone. The Tillersons took her.” His voice trembled. He took a shuddering breath that did little to calm him. 
That sprung Joy into action, following him into the house as he led her. “How long?”
“Since this afternoon.”
“How do you know the Tillersons have her?”
At that, Rhett swept his arm out in front of him, motioning to his brother as he brought the sheriff into the kitchen. As she took in the sight of the family around the table, she was reminded of a scene she had walked into not so long ago, when Rebecca had disappeared. This all felt too familiar.
“Why don’t you go ‘head and tell her, Per?!”
Perry hesitated. When Joy’s gaze fell upon him, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Tell me what?”
“I-I don’t–”
“Perry!” The gruff loudness of Rhett’s tone made everyone jump. He wasn’t about to let Perry lie right through his teeth. 
“They took Rhett’s wife because of me. Because I killed Trevor Tillerson.”
At her son’s admission. Cecilia let her head fall into her hands. Royal closed his eyes. Even though they already knew it was coming, hearing it said out loud made it real. 
“I…you’re serious? You’re tellin’ me the God’s honest truth right now?” Joy asked, staring straight at Perry. 
“I am. I can take you to the body if you need. But it’s the truth. I killed him.”
She leaned back, entirely flabbergasted. “Okay. First of all, I’m gonna need to call this in.” Then she turned to look at Rhett. “Our highest priority right now is findin’ your wife, but first, I need to report this back to the station and I’ll be right back with a game plan.”
Rhett caught her arm, and she saw the raw fear in his eyes. “I think…I think she might be dead,” he croaked. 
Joy lifted her hand and gently placed it over the one he had on her arm. “Let’s not go there yet, okay? Let me call the station. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.” 
She stepped outside and sauntered to her cruiser, where she grabbed her radio and put in a request for backup and a forensics team. She had no idea how this was going to unfold, but she had a gut feeling that it wasn’t going to be pretty. 
As soon as she radioed the station, she made her way back into the house. “Alright, I’ve got backup on the way. Let me just ask a few more questions to clarify what’s going on here.” She took a notepad out of her front pocket.
Rhett was growing restless. He was so desperate to find you. He wanted to march right up to the Tillerson house himself and demand they release you. But he couldn’t go in there alone. Not when they could shoot him on sight with a silver bullet, rendering him dead in minutes, if not instantly, if the bullet went to his heart. 
He’d be no good to anyone if he was dead. But oh, how hard it was to sit around and wait, not knowing what had happened to you. He still could not feel your presence, but there was part of him that believed maybe there was still hope. But he knew that was simply wishful thinking. 
As soon as the rest of the Wabang Sheriff’s Department and the coroner’s office showed up, things shifted into action. Joy organized a small group to go out and locate the body. Perry was instructed to lead them to it. After which, he would be placed under arrest and taken to the station. 
In the meantime, Cecilia took it upon herself to inform the rest of your family as to what was happening. It was not right to keep them in the dark any longer. They needed to know.
While that was taking place, Joy grabbed her most trusted deputy, Raven Perez, and informed her of the situation with the Tillersons.
“I want you to come with me,” Joy told the woman, “I don’t know how they’ll react to police presence, I don’t want to risk going in there without someone to cover my six.”
Raven nodded, her dark eyes serious. “Okay. You think we need to call in the state police? I have a bad feeling that this is not going to end well.”
Joy considered her words. “No, but we might have to if things escalate. I have no idea what we’re walkin’ into here. I haven’t dealt with werewolf hunters head-on before.”
“Okay. I’ll keep them on standby just in case.”
The two women moved to head to the cruiser, but they were interrupted by a determined cowboy. “I’m comin’ with you,” Rhett’s voice suddenly cut through the air. 
Joy stopped, staring at him as he stood there, a determined look on his face. She was already shaking her head. “Absolutely not. You need to let us handle this.”
His shoulders went tense. “Joy, they took my mate. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna stand back while someone else goes to find her. I need to go with you. And if…if she’s dead, I need to be there to bring her body home so we can give her the burial she deserves.”
The sheriff hesitated, eyeing the man before her. She’d never seen him so broken. In all her dealings with Rhett during the investigation into Rebecca’s disappearance, he had always been a steady, quiet force. But now, his shoulders had dropped low in defeat, and his eyes were haunted with shadows of grief. 
She also knew how sacred burials were. Her own culture was very methodical and traditional when it came to the way they carried out such things. Wolf burials held that same sense of ceremony and honor. 
But it was strictly against protocol to allow him to come. She was just asking to get in trouble by involving him. But as she gazed into his mournful blue eyes, she found herself nodding her head. 
“Okay. But you stay behind me at all times. Do not try anything that’ll get you killed. Got it?”
“Got it,” Rhett echoed. 
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Raven spoke up, glancing between the werewolf and the sheriff. 
“No. But we’re doin’ it anyway. Let’s go.”
The three of them climbed into Joy’s cruiser, and off they went, the bright morning sun lighting the way. In the backseat, Rhett was vibrating with nervous energy, his heart racing in his chest. His mind spun through different scenarios as to how this was going to go down. Would the Tillersons let you go once they got answers about Trevor? Would you be unharmed? Would you even be alive?
He closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths, filling his lungs with oxygen, trying to remain calm. He was partly afraid that he would lose control once he stood face-to-face with Luke and Billy. The prospect of losing you rendered him unable to keep his wolf at bay, and he briefly wondered what would happen if he ended up succumbing to that wild animal and lunging. Joy would have to intervene if it came to that. He just hoped it wouldn’t. 
The drive up to the Tillerson property was brief, and as soon as Joy turned onto the long, gravel driveway, Rhett leaned forward in his seat, thrumming with uncertainty and fear and the overwhelming need to find his mate. 
Once Joy threw the vehicle into park, the trio climbed out, and she led them up to the grand front porch. There, she stopped to knock on the door. Four precise knocks. Then she rang the doorbell, the sound of which could be heard from outside. 
A few moments later, the door came open, and out stepped Luke. Rhett tensed, and when he breathed in, he could smell your scent on Luke. 
Joy was saying something to him. But through the rush of blood in his ears, Rhett couldn’t hear her. His gaze was locked on the other man. A tremor ran down his spine, and a burning, churning desperation came to life in his belly. 
“Where is she?” He heard himself growling, a sound entirely foreign even to his own ears. Low and wild. Terrifying. 
Luke’s gaze shifted to Rhett’s. There was a flicker of fear in those stormy eyes. “Where’s Trevor?” He countered. 
Rhett was fighting the urge to go for the man’s throat. Your scent was so strong it almost brought him to his knees. “I can smell her on you! What did you do to her?!” His throat was raw from the snarl. 
Joy turned, holding her hand out to steady the wolf. “Rhett, if you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to remove you from the premises.” Her free hand was resting on her gun. 
But it was as if he didn’t hear her. “Goddammit, Luke! Did you kill her?!”
“I’m not telling you shit until you tell me where my brother is!” Luke shouted back. 
“ENOUGH!” Joy and Raven spoke at the same time. 
“We’re in the middle of searching for your brother right now. But I need to know if you have Rhett’s wife. If you do, I will be forced to remove her from your possession by any means necessary,” Joy said. 
Luke entirely ignored Joy. “You should’ve just brought us Trevor yourself, and we could’ve avoided this whole mess,” he spoke directly to Rhett. 
“And what, let you kill me on sight as soon as I stepped foot on your property?”
“Oh, like you killed my brother?”
“I didn’t kill your brother!”
“Then where is he, huh?! Cause it sure as hell don’t look like he’s alive!”
“Will you two stop already?! Luke, do you have her, or not?!” Joy demanded. 
In the meantime, Patricia Tillerson had it all planned out. Billy had just come down to inform her that Rhett Abbott had shown up with the cops, and no Trevor. 
“Fine,” she hissed angrily. “We’ll do this another way.”
She marched right over to you, still bound to the metal examination table. She’d been questioning you for hours and had gotten nowhere. You were exhausted, shivering, and drenched with sweat. 
“Wh-what are you doing?!” You fearfully asked, flinching away as she moved to abruptly unbuckle your restraints. 
“Get up,” she simply said. 
“No! What are you–”
“Get up!” A sharp slap to your cheek had you scrambling to slide off the table, but your legs nearly gave out as your feet hit the ground. 
A fresh wave of terror sliced through you, heightened when you watched her grab a gun loaded with silver bullets. She clamped her hand around your upper arm, sure to leave a bruise, and dragged you along. You didn’t have the strength to fight her, and when you tried, she pulled you forward hard, so that you stumbled. 
Your legs felt heavy, and your feet dragged like your shoes were made of iron. Tears ran down your cheeks, and your mind raced, trying to figure out what was happening, where she was taking you. Was she finally going to kill you?
And that’s when you heard it. The sound of raised voices echoing through the corridors of the house. But one stood out above all the rest. Rhett. 
“Rhett?” You squeaked, and a sob tore from your throat. 
“Shut your mouth, whore,” Patricia snapped. She yanked you forward, right into the main entry area of the house. You could see Luke at the door, and beyond him, Sheriff Hawk and Deputy Perez. But they didn’t matter. Not when your eyes fell upon your mate. The one who you were certain was here to rescue you. 
“Rhett,” you tried to speak again, but you couldn’t make your voice any louder than a pathetic croak. Your throat was raw. 
But he saw you. His eyes, the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, flickered to you, and his entire face changed. His mouth moved as he spoke your name, but it sounded like a faraway echo. 
It seemed to all happen in slow motion. 
Before Rhett could even think, he was rushing forward, pushing past Joy, past Luke, fighting his way into the house. Multiple voices were shouting all at once. 
You should’ve seen the two officers unholstering their guns. Should’ve seen the way Luke ducked out of the way. Should’ve felt Patricia move beside you. 
In seconds, she’d lifted her gun and pressed it to your temple. Time slowed. Rhett stumbled to a halt, his arms coming out in front of him, a look of sheer horror in his eyes as his mouth opened to form…
“NO!” His chest burned. His eyes glowed gold. “LET HER GO!”
“Why should I let her go, wolf? You took my son from me. I’ll take the mother of your child away from you.”
“Please!” Rhett sobbed. “What do you need me to do?! I’ll do it. Just, please! Don’t take my wife and baby from me!”
“Is my son dead?”
“Drop the gun!” Joy’s voice filled the room. Loud and booming. Her weapon was drawn. So was Raven’s. “Drop it or so help me God, I will shoot you!”
“You shoot me, I take her with me!” Patricia shouted, pressing the gun more firmly against your head. You whimpered, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Instead, you focused on Rhett. He looked wild. Trapped, like a caged animal.  
“You don’t want to do this!” Raven exclaimed in the background, eyes trained on her target. 
“Yes I do! These animals stole my son from me! Either they return him, or I put a bullet in her head!” 
“Mom, just let her go!” Luke’s desperate voice tore through the commotion. “It’s not worth it!”
“No! Where is my son?! What did you do to him?!”
Joy wouldn’t say. She knew the moment she confirmed Trevor was dead, Patricia would pull the trigger. So she tried to diffuse the situation. 
“We’re lookin’ for him right now, Patricia! Don’t kill this innocent girl because you think Rhett might’ve had something to do with it! If you kill her, we will take you down!” The sheriff cried. 
There was no clean ending to this situation. Someone wasn’t going to make it out alive. 
In the midst of it, the shouting and the chaos and the fear, all Rhett could see was you. His only love. His mate. The other half of his soul. He saw your future together. He saw himself holding your baby for the first time. He saw you building a life together. Growing your family. Doing all the things you’d always dreamed of doing together. 
And he couldn’t let it be stolen from him. He couldn’t let you be stolen from him. 
So he fell to his knees, and he looked up at the woman who held your life in her hands. “I beg of you,” he breathed “don’t take her from me.”
She shifted, pressing the barrel of the gun tighter against your temple, her finger on the trigger. You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Any second, she would squeeze that trigger and it would all be over.
Rhett knew what he had to do. “You want the truth? Fine, I’ll tell you the truth.” His mouth parted as his fangs grew. His eyes glowed bright as embers. “Trevor’s dead.”
Then he lunged. 
In a split second, the man was a wolf. An apex predator, all sleek black fur and tight muscle. You heard a gunshot ring out, and you expected your body to fall. But before it did, the animal was colliding with your chest, sending you plummeting toward the hard ground. 
But you never came in contact with it. A hand was behind your head, cushioning your fall. A shadow remained above you, broad and familiar. When you opened your eyes, you found your husband staring down at you, his face human again. 
“I’ve got you,” he soothed. He placed his body over top of your own, shielding you from what was happening around you. His hands were pressed over your ears, muffling the deafening sound of gunfire that would be murder on your sensitive hearing. 
And then, all at once, it was silent. 
Slowly, Rhett lifted his hands from your ears. “Are you okay?” He asked. His voice wavered. Frantic eyes searched your being for any signs of outward harm. He touched his fingers to the collar around your neck, and his chest flashed with anger. “What did they do to you?”
But you couldn’t speak. Tears rushed forth, blurring your vision, and immediately, you flung your arms around his bare shoulders. Deep, broken sobs wracked your body. Rhett held you tight, moving to sit upright as you clung to him, weeping into his neck, holding onto him as if you were afraid that if you let go, he’d disappear. 
“Don’t let go!” You wailed.
He was overcome, and he closed his eyes, nuzzling into you, his own tears burning hot trails down his cheeks. “I’m here, little wolf. I’m here, I’m not gonna let you go.”
Slowly, you turned your head, allowing your eyes to flutter open. That’s when you saw it. Patricia Tillerson lay lifeless on the floor. Her cold, dead eyes remained open and fixed on you, a haunting visual that would never leave you as long as you lived. 
“Rhett,” you whimpered, burying your face against his neck again. 
“Shh. I got ya, baby. You’re safe.”
You didn’t know how long you knelt there on that floor, clinging to one another, lamenting all that had befallen you. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered but this. Your arms around each other. Your chests pressed together. Your heartbeats intertwined.
All too soon, a gentle hand was placed upon Rhett’s shoulder, and Joy’s voice could be heard. “Rhett, we need to get you both out of here and rope off the crime scene. Is she okay to be moved?”
Rhett leaned back to fully look into your face. “Can you walk?” He asked you. 
Your strength was so depleted that you weren’t sure if you could. “I-I don’t know,” you whimpered. 
“Okay. Hold on a minute, let me get my clothes.” He gently set you on the floor before he quickly gathered the clothes he’d shed during his shift. Once he was clothed, he bent to help you to your feet, wrapping a secure arm around you as he carefully guided you out of the house and into the night. 
Deputy Perez, who was waiting for you outside the house, noticed the collar around your neck. “I’ll see about getting this off you,” she assured you, inspecting it more closely. “Is it a shock collar?”
“N-no,” you answered. “It’s meant to…to keep me from using my abilities. If I try, it’ll kill me.”
Raven nodded, her gaze intense. “I’ll see if Luke or Billy has the key for it.” She stepped away, leaving you and Rhett alone for just a moment. 
Rhett lifted his hand, gingerly touching the collar again. His eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head. “I-I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner.”
You placed your hand over his own, intertwining your fingers. “It’s okay. I still knew you’d come.”
Moments later, Raven returned with the key in her hand. Your chance to finally have complete freedom, all held in a tiny piece of metal. You were so eager to be rid of the constrictive device, but when Raven reached out to unlock it, you instinctually flinched away, pressing yourself against your mate’s side. You knew Raven meant you no harm, but you were so fearful of any touch that was not Rhett’s. 
He held his hand out. “Let me do it. I don’t think she can stand anyone else touchin’ her but me.”
The woman nodded, gladly handing the key over. At that, Rhett turned to you, effectively shielding you with his body. “I’m gon’ get this off you, okay darlin’? You’re safe, it’s just me an’ you.”
You let your eyes fall shut as your husband carefully located the lock and inserted the key. He soothed you as he turned the lock, and then, all at once, the collar was gone from your neck. 
You let out a relieved sob. Before you, Rhett gasped, because all at once, he was hit with an overwhelming sensation. As if the missing half of his soul had just returned to its rightful place. He realized then that the collar had been inhibiting him from sensing your presence all along. At the realization, he pressed his forehead against yours, and both of you succumbed to silent tears. 
But all too soon, your moment was interrupted as Raven spoke up. 
“We’ve got an ambulance on the way for you,” she assured you, her deep brown eyes filled with compassion.
But you began to shake your head, retreating further into Rhett, tucking yourself back into his side, in need of the safety he provided. “N-no. No, I don’t want to go to the hospital,” you protested. “I want to see my pack doctor instead.” You trusted Doctor Tenpenny above all others. You had only ever gone to her your entire life. The thought of going to the hospital made anxiety roil in your belly. 
“Honey, you’ve been through a lot. It’s probably better that you go to a real hospital,” she tried to reason. 
“I said no. I’m going to my doctor. She’s the only one I trust.” After the traumatic series of events you had just endured, you didn’t want to experience any more discomfort. You didn’t want to sit in a sterile white room with a doctor you didn’t know examining you. You wanted your doctor. The one who understood wolf medicine, and knew exactly how to take care of you and your baby. 
Raven looked at Rhett, as if trying to get him to convince you to change your mind. But he was inclined to let you choose for yourself. You knew your body best, and if you felt that Doctor Tenpenny was the safest option after what you had gone through, he wasn’t going to make you change your mind. 
“We’ll go to our pack doctor. Thank you, Deputy Perez.”
Raven nodded, though she looked unsure. However, she didn’t want to push you any further. “Okay. You’ll need to sign a waiver stating that you refused treatment. You’ll also need to provide a statement as to what happened. I can take the statement whenever you’re ready.”
You looked at Rhett, and he saw the weariness on your face. You were depleted of any and all energy, and you desperately wanted to go home. 
His warm hand came up to rest upon your cheek, his touch loving. “You can do it, little wolf. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
And he was. He held your hand as you recounted each and every detail to Raven, and as he listened to your tearful words, and watched as you fought hard not to break down, he felt nauseated. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling as he envisioned what you had been subjected to at the cruel hands of Patricia Tillerson. 
He hated that he couldn’t get to you sooner. He hated that you had suffered all of this, simply because of his brother’s heinous action. And he hated that he’d known about it, and had not gone to the police himself in the first place. If he had, instead of trusting Perry to do the right thing, then none of this would have happened. Rhett realized that in some ways, he was just as much to blame for what had happened to you as Perry was. 
He wanted to fall to his knees and tell you how sorry he was. But as Raven finished up her questioning, he could see how drained you were. Your tears had long since stopped, and the numbness had begun to set in. The time for emotional confessions and petitions for forgiveness would come later. For now, you just needed to go home. 
“Alright. That about does it. Thank you for being so patient, I know this is difficult,” Raven assured you. “Would you like me to escort you home in the cruiser?”
You nodded, though even that took more energy than you had. “Please.”
So, the two of you climbed into the back of the car, and you let yourself rest in Rhett’s warm embrace, your eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. He held you tightly and relished in your closeness. Your aliveness. 
He kept a protective hand against your belly the whole ride home. He could still sense your little one, which was a good sign. But there was still a fear in both of your minds, wondering if what you had been put through might cause you to lose your daughter. 
As a wolf, you had the ability to heal much faster than a human. Things didn’t affect you as badly because of your supernatural blood. But things like miscarriages were still possible. Especially if your body was put under intense amounts of stress. 
You let your hand rest over his own, and you sat in silence the entire ride, until Raven pulled into the wolf reservation. When you lifted your head from Rhett’s shoulder, you caught sight of the bustling activity taking place outside the cruiser. 
After Cecelia had informed the rest of your pack as to what was happening, they’d all gathered together to learn of your fate and wait for your return. Your heart ached, because you knew your mother would be beside herself. 
But the thought of being swarmed by everyone made your chest tighten with anxiety. You didn’t want to endure any noise or fanfare. Your nerves were shot and you were afraid you would succumb to a breakdown if you had to endure any more upheaval. 
“Rhett,” you whispered fearfully, grabbing his arm. “I can’t…I can’t handle all of them.”
“Shh,” he soothed. “‘s okay, we’ll just take ya to the house and have Doctor Tenpenny come see you there.”
Then he instructed Raven to drive over to the edge of the property, where your home was situated. She did so without complaint, and once she pulled the car to a stop, Rhett was quick to help guide you out onto solid ground, catching you when your knees almost buckled. 
“I’ve got ya.” With a kiss pressed to your temple, he led you up to the door, where he took a moment to locate the hide-a-key and unlock it. He turned back to wave at Raven, and then he took you into the house. 
“I’m gettin’ you up to bed,” he assured you, and you nodded, but the thought of climbing the stairs was too much for you. Rhett noticed your trepidation, and immediately, he was lifting you into his arms. He carried you up the steps and into your loft bedroom, where he stopped to carefully place you on the bed. 
He stood before you, big gentle hand coming up to lovingly stroke your cheek. You looked up at him, and your eyes welled with tears. 
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered. 
You closed your watery eyes, nuzzling into his hand. You couldn’t speak, but you didn’t need to. Your mate wrapped you in his arms and held you to his chest, assuring you that he was here now, that you were safe. And you knew you were. 
When he finally let you go, he knelt to reverently help you undress. He removed your shoes from your feet and got you out of your sweat-dampened clothing. You didn’t have the strength to get into the shower, so he took the packet of wipes you kept in your bedside table and lovingly wiped your body down before he put you into a clean pair of pajamas and got you into bed. 
As you settled in, he left a kiss on your forehead, and then slipped away to give the doctor a quick call. You had a few moments of peaceful rest before your mother and Doctor Tenpenny arrived. 
Rhett allowed you your emotional reunion with your mother, but once the doctor began her examination of you, he remained close by, perched on the edge of the bed, holding one of your hands in his own. 
“From what I can tell, baby girl is just fine. Her heartbeat is strong and there are no signs of distress. But I want you to stop by my clinic tomorrow so I can give you a more thorough examination, alright? For now, the best thing I can prescribe is rest. Drink lots of fluids. Try to eat to get your strength back up. Your body has been through a significant amount of trauma, and it’s going to take you a bit longer to heal than it normally would.”
You breathed a sigh of relief, rejoicing over the health of your baby. Rhett squeezed your hand, and you met his tearful gaze. This was one positive after the heartache you’d endured. 
The doctor left you with a few herbal remedies for any pain you might be experiencing, and finally, she bid you farewell. Your mother remained with you for a little while longer, unwilling to let you out of her sight just yet. 
But she could see how exhausted you were, so, reluctantly, she kissed your forehead and slipped out of the room, allowing you the peace you so desperately needed. Rhett walked her out, and she turned to him on the doorstep, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Take care of my baby,” she told him. 
He mustered a smile, placing his hand over her own and giving it a squeeze. “Always.”
Once she was gone, Rhett stepped back into the house, where he made his way up the stairs and to your room again. He found you huddled under the covers, not quite asleep yet. When you saw him, you lifted your arms, reaching for him, beckoning him to bed. 
He took a moment to strip out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him in just his underwear. Then, he rounded the bed and climbed in next to you. Instantly, you turned your body, curling into him and burying your face against the slope of his neck. 
“Don’t let go,” you whispered when you felt his arms slip securely around your body. 
“I’m never lettin’ you go again, little wolf.”
And for the first time in forty-eight hours, you finally found rest. 
You slept for hours after that. Your exhausted body succumbed to a state of much-needed rest. Rhett was exhausted, too. Emotionally and physically. The trauma of losing you had zapped what strength he had left. So you slept wrapped around each other, grateful that you had been returned safely home.
But your moment of rest could only last for so long. Soon, it was time to wake up and face the world again. Rhett kept you shielded from it for as long as he could, dismissing any visitors that wanted to see you, because he knew you could not handle it.
However, life had to go on. A few days later, the sheriff showed up again to tie up some loose ends, and it pained Rhett deeply to watch you be put through the wringer all over again as you had to recall more details about what had happened. 
But Joy also had news to share. Some good, and some bad. 
“I know this has been hell for you, and I won’t take up any more of your time than I have to. But, we located Trevor’s body just south of here. We also found his truck at the bottom of Lover’s Lake. Perry confessed to the murder.” She leaned forward in her seat at your kitchen table. “I don’t know how much you’ve been talkin’ to your family lately, but last night, your dad came forward and confessed that he was also involved in disposing of the body. Did you know about that, Rhett?”
Beside you, Rhett’s eyes widened, and he shook his head in disbelief. “When we got into it at the house the other night, I found out he knew about it. But I…I had no idea he helped him hide the fuckin’ body.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to process what he’d just been told. Part of him wasn’t surprised. After all, Perry wasn’t smart enough to hide something like that on his own. He had to have had help. 
“To be frank with ya, this is a big fuckin’ mess. Not only do I have a werewolf killing a human, but I have hunters abducting a werewolf on top of it. The National Werewolf League wants answers as to how I let hunters operate right under my nose. Truth is, I had no idea they were actively hunting you guys. You know I haven’t been in office very long. I’ve been purposely kept in the dark as far as your history goes.”
“They weren’t actively huntin’ us. My dad had that agreement with Wayne when it came to huntin’. And ever since then, they haven’t gone after us. Until Trevor went missin’, then Patricia lost her fuckin’ mind and decided to target us,” Rhett explained. 
“I’m only sorry I didn’t know about it sooner. I really was naive enough to think that hunting was a thing of the past. But turns out, Patricia was actively hunting werewolves under the radar. Luke said he and his brothers haven’t done any hunting since their mother initially left years ago. But, that doesn’t change the fact that he and Billy were still involved in kidnapping your wife. So I want you to know that they will be punished to the full extent of the law. They won’t be able to hurt you ever again, and you have my word on that.” 
Rhett reached over to grab your hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank y’, Joy.”
She nodded, smiling softly at him. “You should also know that Luke has agreed to entirely nullify the contract your dad signed years ago with Wayne. That means that this land will rightfully belong to your family, and you will be free to live anywhere else you choose without facing repercussions from the Tillersons or anyone else.”
Rhett let out a breath of disbelief, leaning back in his chair and running his free hand through his hair. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he marveled. 
Joy held his gaze. “I’m truly sorry for the pain your people have had to endure. But I hope that this can be a step in the right direction to a better life for your pack, as well as packs all over the world.”
Finally, the sheriff stood from her chair, grabbing her hat from the table. “This is far from over. I just hope the two of you can find peace and healing in the midst of it.” Her gaze shifted to you. “Wishin’ you all the best with that little one you’re carrying. I hope she grows up in a world where she can feel safe and accepted.”
“So do I,” you firmly replied as you stood to shake her hand. 
“I’ll see myself out. We’ll be in touch,” the woman finally said. Then, with a tip of her hat, she turned, and walked out of your home, leaving you and Rhett bathed in silence.
“Y’ alright, little wolf?” He asked you. He rounded the table, where he gently wrapped an arm around your waist. 
You sighed deeply, leaning into him, letting your strength leave you as you let him support your weight. “I’m just…tired.” The last several days had been the most taxing period of time you had ever been through. Although your supernatural healing abilities had healed any injuries you had sustained, your spirit was still wounded from what you had endured. Your exhaustion was less physical and more mental and emotional now.
He nodded mournfully, lifting his hand to tilt your face toward him. “I know. So am I.” A tender kiss was pressed to your temple, lingering for a moment before he pulled back. The blue of his eyes was breathtaking, so brilliant and clear. “But we’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this together. You, me, and this little pup. It’s us against the world.” His hand came to rest on your abdomen. 
You mustered a soft smile, your eyes glimmering with tears. When you let your eyes flutter shut, those tears slid down your cheeks. Rhett’s fingers were there in an instant, wiping them away. Wordlessly, he let his forehead rest upon your own, and you could feel him trembling against you. 
He grew serious, and soon was overcome with the guilt he had been carrying with him since you went missing “Darlin’,” he whispered, “I…I need to tell you somethin’.”
You looked at him expectantly, and he reached behind himself to pull one of the kitchen chairs out, which he sat upon. His large hands took hold of your own, and he looked up at you with an intensity in his gaze. It made your stomach drop. 
“A few days before the Tillersons took you, I found out that Perry killed Trevor. I told him to go to the sheriff. I gave him two days, told him that if he didn’t come forward, then I would. But he never did. And then, they took you. And I…I just keep thinkin’, if I had just said somethin’ myself, then maybe you wouldn’t have been taken from me. Maybe you wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of that fuckin’ monster Patricia. Maybe you–”
“Rhett.”
He went quiet. 
Your gentle hands came up to cup his cheeks. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Perry is the one that committed the crime. He’s the one that tried to cover it up. He should have gone forward himself. It isn’t your responsibility to right his wrongs. This is solely his fault.”
“But I…I should’ve been lookin’ at the bigger picture. I should’ve anticipated them takin’ you. But I didn’t. I could have lost you forever. I could’ve lost my child forever. I failed as your protector. And for that, I’m beggin’ your forgiveness.”
More tears flooded your vision, and you shook your head, falling to your knees along with him, hands still framing his face. “Baby, you don’t need to beg for my forgiveness. You didn’t fail as my protector. You were there when I needed you most. If you hadn’t stepped in when you did, I wouldn’t be here with you right now. I’m alive because of you. So don’t you think for one second that you failed me, or our child. Because you didn’t. You saved us.”
A soft sob escaped his throat, and he lowered himself to the floor with you, wrapping his arms around your body, much like he had when he came to your rescue that fateful night. It was your turn to hold him. Cradling his head against your chest, letting him listen to yours and your baby’s heartbeat. Reminding him that you were alive, that you were safe, that you weren’t going anywhere.
Your journey was not over. In fact, it was just beginning. The nature of this situation would spark national coverage, especially since the League had gotten involved. There would be trials to attend, trauma to relive, and difficult decisions to make. But for now, if only for a brief moment in time, the two of you were safe in your little bubble, wrapped in each other’s arms. 
And you longed for it to never end. 
“Rhett?” You softly spoke, after your emotions had waned. You were still on the floor, but you had shifted so you were sitting cross-legged in front of each other. 
His tired blue eyes flickered to yours. 
“Can…can we pretend, just for tonight, that things are normal? These next few months are going to be rough on both of us. I just want to pretend we’re back to the way things were before all this. Even if it’s only for tonight.”
Your husband smiled softly. “I’d like that.”
So, together, you stood from the floor, and Rhett pulled you in to kiss the top of your head. One brawny arm slid around your torso, and he nuzzled his nose against yours. “Wan’ me to take ya into town for some pizza?”
You considered his offer, placing your hands against his chest. “How about we finish off some of the leftovers in the fridge? I’m afraid if we go into town people will bombard us with questions.” Dealing with people sounded like an overstimulation nightmare for you. 
Rhett nodded. “You’re right. Don’t know what I was thinkin’.” He glanced over at the fridge. “Guess we do have plenty’a leftovers to get through. Your side of the pack really knows how to take care of people when they’re strugglin’.”
He was right, your pack members had been making meals for you and Rhett ever since you’d come home. The meals were deeply appreciated by you, because neither of you had the energy to cook. 
“Go sit and rest, darlin’,” Rhett told you. “I’ll heat everythin’ up and we can just eat in the livin’ room.”
You smiled, leaning into him as he ducked down to kiss you tenderly. Then he ushered you off to the living room while he buried himself with heating up dinner. 
In no time, you were cuddled up on the couch together, the television playing in the background as you ate, and it all felt so normal and mundane. Something you had been craving these last few days. 
You sat with your legs across Rhett’s lap, and he kept a steady hand against your thigh, thumb rubbing circles on the skin. For the first time since you had come home, you felt yourself relaxing. The tension melted away from your muscles, and you allowed yourself to relish in the domesticity of it all. 
You didn’t finish the movie playing on the screen. Neither of you were particularly interested in it. You were more interested in the closeness and the intimacy you shared. His gentleness was a soothing salve after you what you had experienced at the hands of Patricia Tillerson. 
“Do you wan’ head up to bed?” He softly asked you, after your head had fallen to rest upon his shoulder. 
Sliding into the comfort of your bed and then being wrapped securely in your mate’s arms sounded incredibly appealing. So you offered a sleepy smile and nodded your head. 
Rhett sent you upstairs with a kiss, promising to join you momentarily, after he put the dishes in the sink and shut off all the lights for the evening. So you trudged up the steps into the loft and busied yourself with getting ready for bed. 
Since you had come home, you hadn’t taken the time to go about your usual nighttime routine. The best you could do most evenings was brush your teeth and change into pajamas before collapsing into bed. It was all you had energy for. 
But tonight, you decided it was time to carry out that routine, in the hopes that it might make you feel somewhat normal. After you changed into your pajamas, you took the time to cleanse your face before you took a seat at your vanity. The vanity Rhett had made for you when he was building your home. A warm-toned wooden dressing table, complete with carved details and a rounded mirror, giving it a vintage appearance. The mirror faced the bed, and the reason for that was because Rhett loved watching you put on your makeup and skincare products. He found you so effortlessly beautiful in those moments. 
Moments when life had seemed so much simpler. Now, everything felt muddled and complicated. Eventually, that gloom would clear, but until then, you were stuck in the midst of it, waiting for the sun to shine. 
But there were glimpses of that sunshine happening all around you. Such as the tiny heartbeat you could hear alongside your own. Or the smile on your husband’s face when he stepped into the room to find you at your dressing table. 
You could see him in the mirror, and you smiled back, eyeing him as he approached you. There was a look of awe shimmering in his eyes. When he reached you, his large, warm hands came to rest on your shoulders. 
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 
You closed your eyes, melting beneath his touch. “I thought maybe doing my skincare might help me feel a little more normal, too.”
“You all finished?”
“Just have to put moisturizer on.”
“Hold on one sec.” He slipped away quickly, ducking into the adjacent bathroom to wash his hands. Moments later, he emerged. “Let me put your moisturizer on ya.”
You giggled at that. “Why?”
“Because I want to. C’mon, give it ‘ere.” He reached for the bottle, which you handed to him. Then, he knelt before you and turned you in your chair so you were facing him. Ever so carefully, he gathered the moisturizer on his fingers, smoothing it around for a moment before he began to delicately smooth the cream over your skin. 
Your smile began to fade into an expression of bliss as he caressed your face, and your eyes soon drifted shut. His touch was so comforting, and he worked with careful precision, making sure he wasn’t too rough on your delicate skin. 
You got lost in the feeling, and if only for a moment, your mind went blank. It was only you and Rhett. No troubles. No anxieties. Just peace. 
And then he spoke, his voice gravelly, coming from deep within his chest. “All done.”
When you opened your eyes, his own were staring back at you. You were so close, your noses were almost brushing. You both could feel that magnetic pull, drawing you to each other. You didn’t know who moved first. But it didn’t matter. Seconds later, your lips were joined in a searing kiss. 
You weren’t quite sure what came over you. All at once, the crushing weight of desire threatened to consume you whole. A fire ignited in your belly, and you surged forward, sliding off your chair and onto the floor. Funny, you seemed to find yourselves on the floor together a lot these days. 
Rhett gasped against your mouth at your sudden movement, entirely caught off guard. He parted from you, searching your face. “Whoa there, darlin’,” he breathed. 
“Rhett, I…” You began, but trailed off. An ache had begun to blossom through your chest. An intense need, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 
“What? Tell me what you need.”
“I need you.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna do anythin’ that you aren’t ready for.”
Your hands clutched at his collar, your body pressed against his own. “I’m sure. I need…I need to be close to you. Need your touch.”
You spoke with deep sincerity. This was not a moment of crazed lust. This was a moment in which you so deeply desired intimacy. You needed to be joined as one with your mate, needed the safety that came from being in his arms, wrapped around his body. You needed him. 
He let his forehead rest against your own, his eyes drifting shut as he breathed in deep. He wanted you, too, just as badly as you wanted him. He had missed being close to you in this way. 
“C’mon, little wolf. We’re not doin’ it on the floor. Want my girl to be comfortable on our bed.” He guided you to your feet, his hand against the small of your back as you were led to the bed. 
After the cruelty you had suffered, Rhett wanted you to experience nothing but softness and gentleness. You would never suffer under a harsh, unforgiving hand ever again, he would make sure of it. 
Reverently, he laid you upon the bed, his cerulean gaze fixed tenderly upon you. He held your stare as he climbed onto the mattress with you, his body covering your own as he hovered over you. 
You lifted your hand, cupping his cheek. “You make me feel so safe,” you whispered. You knew it was what he needed to hear, after he felt like he’d failed you and your child. And you meant every word. 
His mouth curled into a fond smile, and his eyes filled with tears, which dropped down onto your cheeks, pulling a soft giggle from you both. 
“Sorry,” he murmured, “I just…I love you. More than anythin’ in the world.”
You kissed him. “I love you too. ‘Til the day I die.”
One more lingering kiss before he leaned back, sitting on his haunches. He helped ease you out of your shirt, and then your shorts, keeping his movements slow and predictable, soft and loving. 
When your body was exposed to him, he sighed out desirously, as in love with you as he’d ever been. “So beautiful, all for me. My pretty little mate.”
You felt warm beneath his praise, and your eyes drifted shut as a lazy smile graced your features. When you heard the jangle of his belt buckle, your eyes came open again, and you watched as he undid the leather, his hands moving with ease.
He was quick to kick off his jeans and underwear, and you reached out to tug at his shirt, lifting it off his body to reveal his form underneath. Lithe muscle and golden skin from days of working outside without a shirt. 
Your hands came up to touch him, smoothing over his shoulders, across his chest, down his abdomen. He felt so warm and familiar beneath your touch. You realized just how much you had missed touching him like this. All you had done the last few days was kiss and embrace. You had not bared yourselves to one another in that time, because it was the furthest thing from your minds. 
But now, here you were, bodies exposed, skin to skin, and it felt right. His lips on yours felt right. His hands on you felt right. His chest against yours felt right. And when he lowered his body against your own, and you felt that heavy hardness nestled against your center, you sighed in contentment. This was good and natural and precious. It was just what you needed during a tumultuous moment in your lives. So you relished in it. 
Nothing was rushed. You took it slow. It wasn’t about pleasure. It was about the closeness. And Rhett made sure to drive that point home. He began his descent of your body, kissing your skin as he went. He was worshipful, reverent, and adoring. 
He breathed in your scent, closing his eyes and relishing in its sweetness. It was a reminder that you were here, alive and safe in his arms, right where you belonged. 
He paused when he reached your abdomen, and he let his hand splay protectively over it. He could hear your tiny little pup’s heartbeat, and he let his head rest there for a moment before he left a series of kisses all along your belly. 
You gazed down adoringly at him, reaching your hand out to brush his hair away from his face. He moved his head to kiss at your wandering fingers before he came back up to engulf you with his body. 
With his forearms near either side of your head, you felt caged in, in the best way. He had overcome all of your senses, blotting out any lingering anxiety or unease you might have still felt. 
His face was all you could see, the low bedroom light framing his head like a halo. He looked so beautiful like this, with love shining in his eyes. Love for you. 
“Gon’ make love to you, baby,” he murmured, ducking forward to nip at your bottom lip. 
“Go on then, cowboy,” you softly encouraged with a smile, tapping your heel against the back of his thigh. 
Humming in amusement, he kissed you again before he snaked his arm between your bodies to stroke his fingers through your slick. Two fingers inched inside you, pulling a gasp from your throat before he added a third. It wasn’t like you needed help trying to take him. You were made to accommodate him. As mates, your anatomy was meant to fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle. But that didn’t stop Rhett from getting you ready for him, making sure you were soaking around his fingers before he even considered sliding his cock inside you. 
You let your eyes drift shut, focusing on his thick fingers within you. But it wasn’t enough. They didn’t fill you like his cock did. They didn’t connect you in the way you so desperately needed. So you whined, leaning up to kiss him and beg into his mouth. “Pl-please.”
“I know, I got ya,” he hummed, before his tongue delved past your lips to taste you. Meanwhile, he reached down to align himself with you. You felt the plush head of his cock catch against your entrance as he dragged it through, gathering your slick as he went, and you gasped, your eyes widening at the feeling. 
Oh so slowly, he began to inch into you, and you found yourself jolting against him, letting out the softest of whimpers, your mouth brushing against his. 
He held your gaze, and the deep blue that reminded you of the depths of the ocean was almost too much to behold, but you found yourself unable to look away nonetheless. This felt natural. It felt right.
He kept going until he was fully nestled inside you, your anatomy stretching around him. Then he sighed out blissfully, his eyes fluttering shut as he reveled in the feeling of your wet warmth snug around him. “Feel so good, darlin’,” he hummed against your parted mouth. 
You whimpered softly, wrapping your arms around those broad shoulders of his. You finally felt safe and protected. Like nothing could hurt you as long as you were wrapped around your mate. He was so warm and familiar, and he smelled so good. A deep, woodsy scent that was unique only to him, and smelled like home to you.
You remained like that for a few moments, just cherishing the closeness, the intimacy of being joined as one. But the feeling of him inside you soon had you aching for more. 
With a soft sigh, you kissed at the corner of his mouth. “Move. Please,” you whined, nose bumping against his. 
He obliged, swiveling his hips, pushing himself further into you, filling you in a way that only he could. That thick cock brushed against all the pleasurable spots inside you, and with each push and pull, it stole the breath from your lungs. He’d only just begun and he was already sending you into orbit. 
His pace was slow. Careful, deliberate thrusts of his hips against yours, remaining as close as possible to your body. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Tied together by a crimson string of fate. And then his mouth was on yours again, hot and open-mouthed, your breaths combined as one force. 
“Oh, oh darlin’,” your husband sighed. “Missed bein’ close to you like this.”
“Missed it too,” you squeaked. The tears were already beginning to gather along your lash line. “I…I thought I’d never get to be with you like this again.”
His own eyes became glassy, and he shook his head. “Shh, don’t talk like that. I’m here now. I’ve got ya, you’re safe and sound, and I ain’t never gonna let anyone take you away from me again.”
You knew he meant every word. He would move mountains to ensure your safety. He would go to war for you and your child. The realization was overwhelming. You had never been loved in such a way before. He loved you with a ferocity, an unmatched intensity, and it took your very breath away.
“L-love you,” you whimpered. 
“I love you too, little wolf. Always gonna love you.”
You slipped into a comfortable, sweet silence after that moment. No words were needed. Your soft sighs and hums were enough. Your bodies did all the talking instead. Moving together of one accord. Rhett built his own rhythm, a steady sway, relishing in the way you clenched around him each time he brushed past that sweet spot nestled deep within you.
You clung to him tightly, as if you were afraid he’d disappear into thin air. And maybe you had every right to entertain that fear. What if this was all a dream, and you’d wake up back in that dark, cold cell again, entirely helpless?
But Rhett seemed to sense your trepidation, and he soothed you. “You’re okay, honey. I’m right here. We’re safe, in our bed. Nobody’s gon’ hurt you.”
He was right, you knew he was. No harm would come to you. Not here, in the reverence of your bed. Not here, in the arms of your one true love. Not here, in your home. The realization sent those unshed tears spilling forth. Once the dam broke, there was no stopping it. 
“Rhett,” you whispered, and then you buried your face against the side of his neck. In a moment of deep catharsis, you let go of your emotions, letting them bubble from you like a rushing stream of water. 
“Shh,” he soothed, and in an instant, he changed positions, so that you were in his lap, held tightly in his arms. He didn’t stop, because you didn’t want him to. You needed this. You craved this. Even as you sobbed openly against his shoulder, hot tears dripping onto his skin. 
One large hand settled on the back of your head, while the other came to wrap around your back. Every inch of your body was pressed against his, and you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. As you cried, he whispered soothing words in your ear, and you held on to every last one of them. 
I love you. You’re safe. I’m here. 
It made you cry harder, tears of gratefulness and relief. Fate had smiled down upon you, and seen fit that you were reunited with your soulmate. The one that had been created just for you. The missing half to your whole.
The one who loved you then lifted his hand, and slipped his fingers into your mouth. It soothed your cries, and you blinked at him, eyes bleary. But even through the haze, you could see that he, too, was weeping. 
His fingers on your tongue grounded you, and you were able to fully immerse yourself in the moment, closing your eyes as you focused on the feeling of him inside you, pelvis undulating against yours. You began to rock your hips in tune with his own, slow at first, but soon faster and faster. 
That’s when the need took over your brain. An animalistic desire that drove you as you began to rut into him, holding on tightly, your nails digging crescents into his skin. A fire had been ignited in your belly, and you chased that warmth, growing bigger and bigger until it had nearly become a wildfire. 
“R-Rhett,” you squeaked, lifting your head to meet his gaze again.
“I know,” he groaned. “Let go when you need to, little wolf. I’m right behind you.”
You pressed your forehead to his, whimpering as you chased your high. You moved fluidly together, with only one goal in mind. So close, so close, so close. And then, all at once, “oh!” and you were freefalling. 
You threw your head back, mouth open as it overwhelmed you. An all-encompassing heat that tore through you, sending you convulsing in Rhett’s arms. He growled, his eyes flashing gold at the feeling of you clenching rhythmically around him. Moments later, he too was overcome, and as you drifted down from the precipice, you could feel the warmth of his seed flooding the very core of you, claiming you as his own. 
It took several moments for either of you to come back to earth. You remained in each other’s arms, bodies still connected. His lips pressed at your feverish collarbone, kissing your skin, bringing you back to him. 
When your vision finally cleared, you lifted his head so you could fully look into his face. Wordlessly, your mouth was against his again, kissing him lovingly. Hands came up to tangle in his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. 
You weren’t sure how long you stayed that way. It could have been five minutes, it could have been twenty-five. But soon enough, Rhett moved to ease his soft cock from you, and you whined at the emptiness. Fingers soothed into your mouth again, pacifying you as he let you rest against the mattress. 
“You’re okay. Need t’ clean you up, darlin’.”
“Don’t let go.”
“I won’t. Just gonna carry you to the bathroom, alright? Give me girl a nice warm bath.”
You agreed, allowing him to move you into the bathroom, but not before he made sure you had a blanket wrapped around you so you wouldn’t catch a chill while he filled the bathtub. It was such a mundane moment, but you cherished it, because for just a little while, you could pretend everything was normal. Your husband was simply taking care of you after making love to you, just like he always did. 
But as sure as the water began to cool down as you finished your bath, so the coldness of reality settled in. You could not pretend things were normal forever. Both of you knew that. And as you slipped into bed that night, you spoke of it. 
“I…I’m scared,” you whispered. “Of what’s coming.”
With the League getting involved, and you being the victim of an egregious crime, your life was going to be in upheaval for the foreseeable future.
Rhett sighed softly, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I am too.” But then, a glimmer of hope. Gentle fingers tilted your chin up. “But think of it this way. We’re one step closer to makin’ the world a safer place for our little girl. I’m sure they’ll be passing stricter laws against wolf hunting. And with the Tillersons out of the picture, we’re already on the right track. We’ve got a fighting chance at seein’ hunting eradicated for good.”
“You really think our baby will be able to grow up in a world where hunting doesn’t exist?”
“I hope so. Nobody should have to live in fear of bein’ hunted for sport. Our kind have a right to protection, just like everyone else. If I have to go to fuckin’ war to make it happen, I will. There’s nothin’ more important to me than makin’ sure you and our babies are safe.”
Again, your eyes filled with tears, and you leaned in to kiss the man before you. “No matter what, we fight together,” you said. “Me and you.”
“Me and you,” he echoed, intertwining his hand with yours. 
It would be no easy feat, but together, you would get through this. And in the end, you would give your daughter, and other werewolves alike, a chance at life in a better world, one without hunters, where they could live wherever and however they pleased. 
No one would suffer beneath the point of a silver arrow ever again. All wolves would be free.
-
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lupinmoonlight · 19 days
Note
Hey, I loved Corrupted! Can we try it the other way around with Y/N dominating Remus? 👀
Aged and Edged
Masterlist AO3
Summary - It is Remus' birthday and you edge him a year older using your mouth (1,665 words).
Warnings - teacher/student roleplay, (reversed) D/s dynamic, oral sex (reader giving), swallowing, premature orgasm, remus comes twice, overstimulation, my grammar.
Notes - HAPPY BIRTHDAY REMUS <3 Thank you for your request @crazykidsdontmelt! I never thought of reversing the roles and it was surprisingly fun!
It was a quiet evening in the cottage. It often was, with Remus. Yet, today, the quietness was more pronounced, as he deliberately made it so because it was his birthday- a day he stubbornly believed didn't warrant any celebration.
You, however, thought the man should be worshiped. You adored him. But anything extravagant would spark a rant about the insignificance of another year passing, an silly argument that would end with you rolling your eyes at him and him attempting a stern glare, only to be betrayed by the soft kindness that filled his eyes whenever he looked at you. So you kept it quiet. Of course, you made his favourite breakfast, took him to his favourite bookstore, brewed his favourite tea- a strong cup of Earl Grey with a dash of milk- but you kept it quiet.
Now, you both lounged by the fireplace, him on the sofa and you on your preferred spot on the floor, tucked cozily between his legs, each absorbed in a book. You still were both new to this kind of domesticity. It wasn't long ago that you were his student, where every interaction, every stolen glance, every touch was forbidden.
Turning around, you shifted your position, now looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. His book hovered mid-air as he watched you with a curious expression.
"Is everything alright, love?" he asked softly, his hand reaching down to caress your cheek.
"Mhm" you mumbled before resting your head on his thigh, feeling the comforting weight of his hand as it moved to thread through your hair.
Your own hand began a daring journey over his thigh, a light, innocent touch at first that grew bolder as it neared his crotch. His reaction was immediate- a sharp intake of breath and a subtle tensing of his body. His fingers paused, then tightened every so slightly in your hair.
"Y/N, w-what are you doing?" he stammered, his usually composed self nearly undone by this small gesture.
You looked up at him through your lashes, feigning innocence. "Nothing".
He tried to act casual, but you could already feel him harden from beneath your hand resting innocently over his growing bulge. Deciding to take it a bit further, you sat up slightly, now kneeling between his parted legs, and looked him directly in the eyes.
"Hands off, Professor," you said playfully.
Obediently, almost comically so, he let his hands fall to his sides, his expression a delightful mix of flustered anticipation and alarm. He looked at you, clearly intrigued and utterly at your mercy, a stark contrast to the dominant he usually was in your moments of intimacy.
The bulge in his trousers was obvious now, straining against the fabric, and you couldn't help but chuckle softly as you imagined the power you held over him in that moment.
"I want you to know how much you mean to me, Remus. How much I love you," you whispered.
"I do know, Y/N, but you really don't need to-"
"I want to. Please, let me."
"Okay," he murmured, his voice quiet and vulnerable, something you rarely saw in him.
Your hands were steady, despite the excitement you felt, as you gently eased his trousers down, revealing more of him to you.
You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his knee, then slowly working your way up his thigh with a series of soft, lingering kisses, making his length twitch in anticipation.
"You deserve to be cherished, Remus," you said, pausing to look up at him again. "Let me show you how much."
His response, this time, was a silent nod, his usual eloquence lost at your boldness. In contrast, his erection stood proud, hard and ready for your touch.
Your fingers trailed over his skin, lightly caressing him, teasingly stroking him. And then, leaning down, you started licking a soft, slow path from the base of his shaft to the head, circling the sensitive tip with your tongue, savouring the taste of him.
His head fell back against the couch as he fought the urge to touch, to claim, to reassert the control he was so accustomed to. Meanwhile, your tongue moved deliberately slowly over his cock, never really taking him in, eliciting soft gasps from him. You love the way his body responded to your touch, the way his hips bucked involuntarily, desperate for more contact.
As you sensed his growing struggle, you paused, locking eyes with him, a silent challenge passing between you. It was then that his hands moved, almost of their own accord, reaching for you, fingers threading through your hair with a firm grip, his intention to fully bury himself in your mouth clear.
"I said hands off, Professor," you chided softly. The use of his formal title in such an intimate setting only made him throb.
With a frustrated groan, he let his hands fall back to his sides, his body language a blend of obedience and barely restrained lust. You could sense his struggle, the effort it took for him to remain passive, to relinquish control to you.
You opened your mouth, allowing him to feel the warmth of your breath, and slowly took him in, relishing the feel of him against your tongue. You swirled your tongue around the head again, making him groan obscenely.
"F-fuck…" he breathed as you felt him noticeably pulse in your mouth.
You grinned around him, enjoying the sound of his desperation, and took him a little deeper. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white, as he fought the urge to defy your commands. With a moan, his head fell back against the couch, his eyes closed, lips parted as he surrendered to the sensations.
You began to work your head up and down, taking more of him into your mouth each time, each movement deliberate, calculated to tease, to draw out the tension, winding him tighter with every flick of your tongue, until you felt him hit the back of your throat. You paused, deliberately swallowing around him before slowly pulling back until only the head of his cock was still in your mouth. You could taste the salty precum that was steadily seeping out of his tip and just lapped it up like it was your favourite thing in the world.
"Wait- wait- s-stop," he gasped, panic lacing his voice as his hips bucked up. "I'm…I'm going to…"
You released him with an obscene pop and watched as his eyes squeezed shut and his cock began to pulse, untouched, while thick white ropes shot out, landing on his stomach and your hand.
"I…I'm sorry," he stammered out of breath, "I didn't mean to…"
But your response was a chuckle, light and soft, as you held his still hardened length. You licked and kissed your way up his shaft, cleaning every inch of him, and took him right back into your mouth. Remus gasped, his eyes widening in surprise.
"I-I don't think I can-" he murmured, his voice strained.
You pulled back and licked the remnants of his release from your lips, one of your hand stroking him gently. "Let me worry about that, Professor."
Remus whimpered- fucking whimpered- as you wrapped your lips back around him. He made another feeble attempt at holding your head steady, weakly trying to thrust into your mouth, but you placed his hands right back on his sides.
"No," you commanded. "You don't get to control this."
Remus made a sort of desperate sound and his hands fell limply to his sides. Holding the base of his shaft, you dragged your tongue along the length of him and his response was immediate. A sharp gasp escaped his lips, his body arching off the couch. You pressed your hands to his hips, holding him down.
"Stay still," you said, stroking him deliberately slowly, feeling him pulse and throb. Remus trembled, violently, his chest heaving. He was overstimulated, right where you wanted him. You reveled in his reactions, each sound, each movement showed how desperately needy he was. You were almost in awe of the power you held, the ability to unravel this man, once your professor, who was always so composed and in control.
Almost out of pity, you allowed him back into your mouth, sinking down until your nose was flat against his abdomen- no further to go. The depth was unfamiliar and you struggled to hold yourself there, but you controlled your reflexes fighting against the intrusion and breathed through your nose as you worked your throat around him.
"Y/N," he panted, his voice filled with pleasure, desperation, and a hint of bewilderment at his own body's responses.
"Too much…it's too much…" he managed to gasp out.
You slid your lips back up, not fully pulling back, and used your hand to stroke him in tandem with your mouth. Remus was falling apart. You could feel his cock jerking in your mouth, preparing for another release.
"Oh fuck-" Remus whimpered. You moaned around him as you felt him start to spasm, his hands fisting the cushions.
You sunk back down until his cock was buried down your throat once more and swallowed around him and then, with a loud, unrestrained moan, Remus lost control, and you allowed him. His hands gripped your hair tightly, pushing you down as far as he could, his hips bucking wildly as he spilled down your throat. You swallowed everything he had to give until there was nothing left, until he finally let go of your head and fell back, boneless, as you released him.
Remus was shivering, panting, heaving, sweating. It was unbelievably satisfying to see him so undone. You had done this. You had made him this way, and it filled you with an unexpected pride.
"Happy birthday, Professor," you teased.
Remus smiled, a sheepish sort of smile, and swung his arm over his face, embarrassed.
"I'm getting too old for this."
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gwaedhannen · 3 months
Text
[Excerpt from Sorrow Beyond Words: Collected Testimony of the War of Wrath, 4th Edition; ed. Elrond Peredhel. Archive of Cîw Annúminas, inaugural collection]
“Simply reaching Menegroth was a struggle. Doriath had become a twisting nightmare of overgrowth and rot and mists, as Morgoth’s power warred with the remains of the Girdle and our old songs. Ai, our home, our haven! I know the name of every holly in Region, before the exile. We found deadfalls surrounded by dozens of animals who’d lain down beside the trees and rotted before they died. Blind moose more antler than flesh staggered towards us even after a dozen arrows. Vines covered in dripping thorns reached for our eyes. The cherry trees were overladen with fruits that smelled like gangrene. Deildhod stumbled into a nest of maddened vipers, and only escaped because their tails were all tangled together into a festering mass and could hardly move. We never saw or heard a single bird. I’m amazed we lost no one in that whole push through Region. No, I speak a lie. I know how we passed through with nothing worse than scrapes. Elrond was with us, and the ghost of Melian’s love still recognized her kin.
“Esgalduin had nearly been dammed by one of Hírilorn’s fallen boles, but the bridge still held. We crossed and reached the ruined gates, wrought twice and broken twice. Within there was only darkness to be seen; we knew not what manner of horrors Morgoth had sent to infest the city, but Ingwion was unwilling to leave them at the rear of his forces as he moved north, if it could be helped. Celeborn stood at Elrond’s right and myself at his left. Far less an honor guard than the heir of Elu Thingol and Melian Besain deserved. Yet in those dark days it was all the honor we could muster. King Dior Eluchíl had known thirty-six summers when he was unrighteously slain. Queen Elwing Nimaew thirty-five when despair took her to the sea. Lord Elrond Peredhel beheld the city of Elu for the first and only time in his twenty-ninth summer.
“Elrond stood before his inheritance and Sang. He sang a lament, for the lost endless years of joy and peace, for deep halls lit by birdsong and echoing with wisdom, for the Forsaken People who awoke the forest and earth with many voices, for the works of beauty never to be seen again on this side of the sea. He sang a promise, that the glory of Menegroth will be remembered in the songs of Middle-Earth for as long as its children endure. He sang thanks, for the protection the halls granted us until it could shelter us no more. As his song at last ceased, I thought I heard nightingales answering him.
“Stars shone on his brow, and his hair glistened as the vault of night, and the memories of our once-eternal bliss in the woods of Thingol’s realm under Elbereth’s gifts arose in my mind. Let Oropher dream of a deep hall for his own; let Celeborn reign where he will at his wife’s side! I knew in my heart, as the echo of nightingale songs faded, that there was no lord or king I would ever stand beside save Elrond Elwingion.
“The living stone in which our kingdom once thrived knew his voice, and at long last laid down its burden and passed. The darkness over Menegroth was lifted, and we went forth into its corpse, and no beast or orc could stand before us. I do not sing of what we found and left behind when we cast down the bridge and gave leave for the river to flood the caves. It is not worth remembering.”
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emeritusemeritus · 5 months
Text
Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]
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Part 5
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14
Title: Vulnera Sanentur
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}
Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.
Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.
Clearly I’m in my angst era 🖤
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Three days had passed since George had lost his ear in the mission to get Harry back to the Burrow safely and each day George's wound seemed to improve dramatically; it was almost completely healed now, no longer leaking or swollen and only a little sore. His overall mood however, seemed to be deteriorating with each passing day as the reality sunk in, the insecurities and sensitivities bubbling up inside of him, despite your honest and repeated confirmation that he was still your George and still gorgeous. With each day he'd withdrawn a little more, showing less affection and had even taken to sleeping on his own in the single bed. Around the others, he laughed and joked just like normal but in private he was cold and distant with you. Fred had noticed and had pulled him up on it once or twice, delicately questioning what was going off with him, what you'd done wrong, but each time George would deflect the question and find a way to avoid answering entirely. You'd hardly interacted at all the previous day, finding it too hard to be rejected and denied by the man you loved and he had even gone as far as to get Molly to change his bandage so that he wouldn't have to be alone with you. You understood, to a point. You knew he'd be feeling insecure about it and he had a lot to process in terms of adjusting to his new normal, mourning his lost ear and no doubt processing the trauma from the attack, but you still couldn't help but feel devastated that he was outwardly rejecting you, pushing you away, especially after you'd tried everything to help him.
You'd thrown yourself into research, hiding away in Charlie's old, vacant bedroom which you were using as a makeshift work space for potion brewing and research. You'd brewed a myriad of helpful, healing potions, ensuring the order would always have a full supply of whatever they should need, as far as your abilities stretched at least. Text books and old potion books were littered around you as you frantically searched for any hope that you could regenerate or replace George's ear but so far there was nothing. Cursed limbs could not be replaced. You'd been taught that over and over by both Lupin and Snape in your school years but you couldn't stop yourself from trying anyway.
You were scribbling down notes from an old copy of Moste Potente Potions, having found an interesting article about Linfred of Stitchcombe and his medicinal advancements when a knock at the door shocked you. Before you'd even had the chance to call out, the door opened and Fred stuck his head in, his eyes flicking over the mess all around you.
"Mum says tea's nearly ready," he says, casting a sideways glance at you and then returning his gaze to the mess of books and parchment that seemed to consume you.
"Thanks but I need to finish this, can't step away from it yet," you said, gesturing towards the cauldron in the back of the room that was currently brewing calming draught, in the hopes that you could use it on George to rid his shock and trauma, at least temporarily. To accentuate your point, you lifted a finger and with a quick flick, the ladle inside the cauldron stirred the blue-hued liquid, the peppermint scent filling the room even more as it stirred and mixed together.
You heard Fred let out a sigh and you caught sight of him just in time to see his shoulders droop just a little in defeat.
"He'll come around you know," Fred says quietly after a few moments of silence which you'd worked through, flicking through pages of a book you'd searched over and over. You knew he was right, but you were a ball of frustration and pain, desperately trying to keep yourself together and keep yourself from hurting anyone else around you.
"I know," you replied, your tone even. You didn't want to think about it anymore, or keep talking about it and so you gestured for the cauldron to stir once again and went back to thumbing through the book you'd pulled.
When you heard the door shut, you immediately sank into yourself and cast the book aside aggressively, tears falling from your eyes before you could stop them. Only days ago you'd woken up in your bed beside the two men you loved most in the world, completely unaware of what would happen, though of course you knew it was dangerous. Even after, you'd woken up in George's arms and everything seemed manageable, like you could navigate through it together and be there for him, only he didn't want you to. He pulled away and you felt lost, robbed and guilty for pulling away from Fred to give George some space from you, hoping he'd come around soon.
You never made it to dinner that night, nor breakfast the next morning as you agonised over your notes, feeling like there was something missing. Neither George nor Fred had been up since then and you'd worked through the night, stopping only briefly for a few hours sleep as you crawled into the bed out of sheer exhaustion, your eyes not able to comprehensively read anything anymore.
You aggressively sighed when a knock at the door stopped your obsessive reading but when Hermione's voice called out from beyond the door, you put down your book and frowned, curious as to why she would need you. You called out for her to enter and tried to smooth back your hair, particularly the strands you'd pulled out of your haphazard braid in sheer frustration.
She stepped through the door holding a glass of pumpkin juice and a plate of toast, seemingly unfazed by your crazed lair of books.
"Molly sent this," she said, placing down the crockery on the table beside you before moving to sit down on the floor in front of you, crossing her legs.
"Thanks," you said in reply, looking at her with questioning eyes, waiting for the mini lecture to come.
"Have you had much luck?" She asks, gazing at your notes briefly, "Fred said you had been brewing non-stop. Calming Brew is notoriously difficult, I've never been able to."
"Hermione," you said firmly but gently, stopping her kind but unappreciated small talk. "Why are you really here?" You walked the line between firm and rude, hoping that you were falling somewhere on the lighter side but in your exhaustion and overstimulated state, it was hard to tell. Her hands fall to her lap as she plays with them, taking a deep breath as if she's gathering courage.
"Dumbledore gave Harry a task before he died, something which we're sure is crucial to defeating you-know-who, but it's hard to know where to even start, where we need to go and what we might need," she says, not making eye contact. Even in your sleep deprived state, you can tell she's holding back information but right now you were loathe to care. "I'm trying to be prepared for every eventuality, I've been gathering things for months, knowing we might need to leave at any time but there's so much more we might need."
"And you want me to brew some potions for you?" You said, filling in the blanks. Only then does she look up at you with a slight frown, considering her next words carefully.
"Actually, we want you to join us."
You instinctively frown at her in reply, all words falling flat on your tongue as you consider her words.
"Me, why? You finally manage to ask, astounded by her request.
"Y/n," she says, a small, polite smile tugging at her lips, "you're a brilliant witch, a master of potions and the magic you produced to heal George was something I've only ever read about in history books. We hadn't asked you before because we knew you'd never leave Fred and George but it seems the three of us won't be able to do it alone, we had to ask."
You sat in silence as you processed her words, conflict building inside you as you considered your options. Truthfully, your current emotions and circumstances were guiding your decisions but you couldn't deny it was an intriguing proposal. You knew Hermione was serious from the crease in her brow that had only seemed to get more prominent with each passing day.
"I assume there's no time frame?" You ask, feeling your frantic mindset fading from you, a calmness overtaking you instead. She shook her head and averted her eyes down to the book which was laid out in front of her.
"And I can't tell anyone?" You assumed.
"I wiped my parents memory, they don't know I exist anymore," she said in a small voice, wringing her hands harder now, the skin of her palms turning pure white, "it was safer for them, and for me. The order don't know but Ron is telling Molly tonight. You can tell F-"
"Better not to, at least right now," you interject quickly, shooting down that line of thought. She nods in understanding and you let out a deep breathe you'd not realised you'd been holding, breathing restricted by the tension within you.
"Can I think about it?"
"Of course," she says with a smile, moving to stand as she wipes off her hands on the front of her jeans. She gives you a little smile and walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You begin to clear up the books and notes, placing them in a mostly neat pile in the corner, focusing your attention on the batch of muffling draught, that had been requested by Madeye before he died for Order use.
You left it barely simmering and took a seat on the unmade bed you'd been sleeping in and let out a long and drawn out sigh. Thoughts were swirling in your brain of every possible option and path. Could you leave Fred and George? What if something happened whilst you were away? What if you never came back? Being away from them when they were transporting Harry was sheer torture, could you go through that again? Or rather, could you put them through that?
The possibility of helping bring down Voldemort was incredibly appealing, knowing that the cause and the Order was more important than personal lives now, the imminent threat of an outright war seeming more and more likely with each passing day. Harry was the best chance we had of defeating Voldemort and your role in the Order was to accomplish this by any means necessary, even if it meant great personal sacrifice.
You sat stewing on your thoughts for a while, making a virtual pros and cons list in your mind, trying to plan ahead but without knowing what needed to be done, it was impossible.
A movement from outside the house caught your eye and you moved over to the window to look out into the garden and surrounding fields, seeing the Weasley men outside erecting the large white marquee for the wedding tomorrow. Fred and George were off to one side whilst Ron and Arthur stood on the other, all of them brandishing their wands in an effort to raise and set up the large tent. Your gaze lingered on Fred before moving to George, who looked in good spirits as they joked between themselves. A flash of pain ran through you as you considered walking out and helping but realising that George would probably ignore you or make excuses to leave, rejecting you once again.
You were about to look away when you noticed a figure in the distance suddenly appear as if out of nowhere, walking stiffly with a large briefcase in his hand as he strode determinedly towards the Burrow. As he walked closer to the house, his facial features and appearance began to get clearer to you, his somewhat familiar, droopy face that seemed to be fixed into a neat permanent frown and shoulder length brown hair.
Rufus Scrimgeour. The new Minister for Magic.
You hurriedly ran down the staircase and rushed into Fred and George's room, quickly throwing a fresh shirt on and began walking out into the kitchen when you saw the minister walk into the house, guided by Arthur.
"I'll need Mr Potter, Mr Ronald Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger and Miss y/n y/l/n," he says after shooting down any small talk formalities. Almost immediately, you feel two sets of eyes land on you, both from the 6ft 3 redheads who were hovering around the door. "We'll need somewhere private," he says, looking around at the multiple sets of eyes who are all looking between themselves in suspicion.
"And to Miss y/n y/l/n, I leave my lebetum, in the fond hope that you will never need this.”
The minister then handed the black object to you, a curious looking thing, something you’d never seen nor heard of before. It was similar to the deluminator in ways, looking like the first of its kind. It was long and cylindrical, ornate in design with a fragment of misted glass embedded onto the front. You turned it over in your hand and frowned, looking down at the curious object.
When the Minister left, you, Ron, Hermione and Harry sat in silence for a few moments, all of you processing what had just happened with Albus Dumbledore's will and the bequeathments. Why had Dumbledore chosen you? The golden trio made sense and you'd been close to Dumbledore of course but it was a big surprise to be included.
"It seems Dumbledore wants you onboard too," Harry says after a moment, taking your eyes flicker to his, the glare from his light reflecting glasses shielding his eyes from you.
"Yeah, have you thought about it?" Ron asks, his hand running along the seams of his corduroy trousers, a pair that you recognised Fred abs George to have worn a few years ago, a tiny splatter of ink still visible on the right knee.
You sighed, unsure.
"Still deciding, I want to but," you said, trailing off. You pulled the sleeves down over your hands, trying to give yourself a little regulatory comfort.
"You can't leave them behind," Hermione says softly, anticipating your answer. You nod gently, not meeting anyone's eyes as flashes of Fred and George play in your mind. The thought of leaving them makes your stomach turn uncomfortably, makes you want to sob at the very thought but there was a greater good that needed to be accomplished and you couldn't let fear nor personal feelings be the reason you rejected their proposal.
"But I can't be selfish, not now, if you need me then I'm with you," you say, looking up at Harry, "this task, will it work?"
"It's the best chance we have to defeat Voldemort."
"Then I'm in."
The minute Ron told Molly about their plans, you disappeared back upstairs, away from the conflict and back up to Charlie's old bedroom. Fleur's parents would be arriving this afternoon and you needed to clear away all your stuff from the bedroom to make room for more guests. You checked on your potion and were pleased with the result, bottling it up and cleaning the cauldron with a flourish of your wand. The books, quills and parchment you'd put to one side were all cleared up and collected off the floor as you cast a quick tidying spell, cleaning the sheets and resetting the room back to it's usual setting. You carried the huge and heavy pile of books down the staircase until you stood in front of Fred and George's closed bedroom door, feeling incredibly awkward as you considered knocking, feeling unwelcome for the first time in your relationship.
You didn't knock but instead grabbed the handle and stepped in, struggling under the weight of the books as you set out to find the bag your enchanted with an extension charm.
George was lay on the bed reading when you walked in and for a brief moment you thought that everything could be normal again as he looked up at you, thinking he would open his arms for you to cuddle into, just as you always had. But that was not the case today. Instead, he shifted slightly on the bed so that his body was almost facing away from you whilst still being able to read and a fresh pang of sadness washed over you all over again. You willed yourself not to cry, at least not until you'd left the room and located your bag, placing the notes and books into the bag before moving to your other belongings.
You rummaged through your things, trying to stay quiet as to not antagonise George further before stopping and cursing, not finding the cardigan that you were looking for. You sighed and stood, walking to the set of drawers near the window and pulled out the second drawer, seeing an array of matching wool jumpers. You pulled a burgundy one out from the pile and unfolded it, seeing that it was emblazoned with the letter 'G'. In a move that upset you greatly, you folded the jumper back up and placed it back into the drawer, reaching instead for it's matching counterpart with the 'F' pattern. You closed the drawer and threw on the jumper, wanting to get out of the room immediately as the tension was much too strong and uncomfortable.
You cast a glance to George as you walk out, seeing him sprawled on the bed reading had always been one of your favourite sights, but though he of course looked handsome in the moment, you just felt empty and sad. His eyes slowly drag up to your exiting form but he says nothing and looks back to his book only moments later, apparently not feeling the need to address you at all. Anger began to simmer in you at his outward dismissal and without thought you began speaking.
"Your bandage needs changing," you say in a shockingly cold tone which sounds odd even to your own ears.
"Mum'll do it," he mumbles, barely even sparing you any attention. His words and tone only infuriate you more and you have to bite your tongue, and physically bite the inside of your cheek, to keep your composure, wanting nothing more in that moment than to scream at him. You'd seen him laughing and joking with Fred earlier, why was it just you he was so cold with? Irritation and resentment bubbled up inside of you and you had to be incredibly selective of your next words.
"I'll have to apply some potion to it tomorrow morning, help the scars," you say blankly, leaving no room for his comments as you walked out of the door, the harsh exterior falling from you the second you shut the door behind you, perhaps a little too aggressively in hindsight.
When you reached the bottom of the stairs, Molly immediately recruited you to help out with wedding preparation, having you fluctuate between helping in the kitchen with her and setting up the table for the meal which would be eaten outside on account of the numerous guests staying.
After your chores were finished, you checked to see Fred and George still de-gnoming the garden with Harry and Ron, supposedly taking extra precautions to rid all of the pests from the lawn and surrounding area. Seeing that they were occupied, you took the opportunity to slip back upstairs and entered their room determinedly as you locked the door with a flick of your wand, sat at the desk and pulled out som parchment and ink.
You weren't sure what to write, not knowing the full extent of Dumbledore's task, but you knew it would be dangerous and potentially life threatening, meaning that this letter would be the last thing they had of you if you didn't make it back.
You began with Fred's letter, finding it much easier at present to tell him all the things you needed him to know. Tears slipped from your eyes a few times with the more emotional passages as you tried to explain why you'd gone and how much you loved him. You folded up the letter once you were happy with it and slipped it into a spare envelope that the twins kept in the desk drawer for their owl post orders.
You sat looking at the blank page for what seemed like hours, trying to think of what to say to George. It was hard because you were so hurt but you chose to push that aside, knowing that this might be the last time you'd ever write to him, plus you didn't know when you would be leaving and this may had all blown over by the time he reads this letter.
You placed George's into an envelope too and considered where you were going to store them until you needed them. You thought your bag at first or maybe under their pillows but both were too risky. Instead, you walked to the shelf in the nook of the room and pulled out a potions book that was left over from your teenage years in the room. In front of that was a pinned, magical photo of the three of you, no older than 15, making a snowman outside in the Hogwarts Courtyard, all with your arms around each other with goofy grins on your face. You slipped the letters into the book, not concealing them entirely but just enough, preparing your last clue that would lead them there if you left.
"Princess?" You heard from the other side of the door as someone, who you now knew to be Fred, jingled the door handle. You unlocked the door with your wand and Fred walked in with a concerned look on his face, moving to walk over to you.
"Why was the door locked? You okay?" He asks and you smile up at him, moving to stand in front of him before wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms immediately surround you as he pulls you in to his chest, cuddling you tightly.
"Better now," you mumble into his chest, feeling instantly comforted by his touch.
"Thought I'd lost you to your work," he says playfully and you pull away just a little to crane your neck upwards to look at him.
"Still here, still yours," you smile, reaching up onto your tiptoes for a kiss which he gives you without hesitation. It's short and sweet but meaningful as his left hand clutches your waist, seemingly needing this just as much as you. You smile at each other as you pull away, only to frown a moment later when George walks into the room calling out to Fred, stopping mid conversation as he realises you are there.
Your face drops and the happiness you felt only a few seconds before slips away from you as George makes no move to join you, no joke or tease and certainly no move to steal you away from his brother as they so often did.
"I'll just... see if your mum needs any help," you mumble awkwardly, stepping out of Fred's hold and walking over to the door in defeat.
"You stupid git," you hear Fred say harshly to George just as you close the door. You desperately want to stay and listen to what they are going to say but you decide not to, knowing that it will only upset you further. You can hear the muffled sound of raised voices and a telltale humming noise that alerts you to the fact that they had used a specific silencing charm and your gut twists once again, feeling like the root of the problem. You'd only reached the fourth step down when Fred bursts through the door, shaking his head until he spots you and all the anger falls from his face. He takes your hand as soon as you'd both stepped off the stairs and he leads you to the empty lounge, sitting down first before pulling you down onto the sofa so that you fall into his lap. His arms lock tightly around you and for the first time in days you feel familiarity and comfort. So much so, that you don't even realise your eyes closing as sleep overtakes you, wrapped securely in Fred's arms.
You wake up comfy, cozy and a little confused, still cuddled into Fred though you are no longer alone. George is sat beside you both on the sofa, in touching distance and you fight against your tired eyes as they threaten to close.
"Hey sleeping beauty," Fred smirks down at you, clearly having felt you shift in his lap. You shush him and cuddle into his shoulder a little more, hesitantly flicking your eyes over to George who is, rather surprisingly, looking at you.
"Nice sleep?" He asks, his tone lighter than you'd heard in days when he'd been addressing you. You simply nod in reply, suddenly sheepish at the concept of chatting with him, expecting him to say something hurtful or pull away again if you opened your mouth. His lips turn up at the edges to give you a soft smile but you don't focus on it for long, turning instead to look around you, checking of anyone else was there. You were all alone and under regular circumstances you'd relish in the time together, knowing how rare it was when you were at the Burrow but right now it just felt awkward and weird.
"I'm gonna get a drink," you say quietly as you attempt to climb off of Fred, feeling painfully thirsty after your nap.
"I'll join you," George says as you walk away and you don't even reply, just continue walking around the corner into the kitchen. Any hope that George was going to explain himself fell flat the second you walked into the kitchen and saw Molly whizzing about like her head was on fire, a couple of her children following behind her as she prepares for Fleur's family to arrive. Dinner than night was hosted outside with gorgeous twinkling lights in the trees and a lavish spread that had taken Molly all day to prepare. You sat beside the twins and though George was a little more cordial than before, you still felt distanced from him and wished more than ever that things would just go back to normal.
Later that night you lay in bed with Fred's arm protectively draped across your waist, your body pressed tightly to his front as he spooned you from behind whilst George lay on the other side, not even remotely touching you. You'd had to push the beds together to make room for the extra cot in the room, where Ron lay sleeping just for tonight, having been evicted from his own room as Bill and Charlie took his, Arthur and Molly took Charlie's and Monsieur and Madame Delacour took Molly and Arthur's room. 
Having George this close to you only seemed to make him feel further away and you cried yourself to sleep that night, tears silently streaming down your face and soaking your pillow until you eventually fell into a restless sleep.
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elfy-elf-imagines · 11 months
Text
Epiphany | Legolas Greenleaf
▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader
▹ Genre: Comfort and Fluff
▹ Words: ~2k
▹ Summary: War was devastating, you'd known that. And in the aftermath of your first battle, Legolas is there to help you through it.
▹ Notes: I'm back to post my annual oneshot. Will I continue the tradition of disappearing for another year?? Who knows. 🙂🙃
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✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚
Death has always been more of a concept than a reality to you. 
Your closest brush with death had been when your grandfather passed away. Yet even as you stood at his wake, tight lipped and dressed in black, you hadn’t felt a thing. He’d been nothing more than an idea in your mind, a singular notch in your family's tree; someone you’d met once or twice when you were too young to cement it to memory. All around you, people wept as they mourned his loss; speech after speech honoring the life he’d lived. You’re mom offered for you to speak as well, but what could you say? Everything you knew had been secondhand. It was easier to disassociate the life that had been lost. 
But that was then.
That had been before you'd been thrown into war and ruin.
Now everything was different, and you hardly recognized your own reflection most days.
It was dizzying, the battlefield you stood in. All was still and quiet as the soldiers gathered their dead. Yet in your mind, phantom images flitted across your eyes, the screams that nearly left you deaf reverberating off the grounds. Listlessly, too stunned to celebrate your survival, you wandered the grounds. Death stung your nostrils, gore and blood staining the grass; these fields would never be quite the same. 
All around you, real people lie dead on the floor. They had families that would mourn and friends that would weep for them. It was a realization no amount of training would have prepared you for. 
You should’ve run back to the keep and avoided the dead bodies that lifelessly stared into the sky. Vaguely, you were aware that the Fellowship was preparing to ride to meet Saruman and strike him from his silver tower. As a member, you should be with them, but you couldn’t keep from drowning in your own guilt.
Swimming in a sea of dead, what did you do to deserve survival? 
It was a thread of thought that was unproductive, yet you couldn’t keep from following it all the same.
As it would, mother nature set the scene for your disparaging rabbit hole. Rain fell from the sky, trying to wash away the horrors of the night. It was useless, the earth would remember, and all flowers would be grown from death. 
Your legs went out from under you, knees sinking into the wet ground, soaked in blood and now rain. Blood and gore, you were caked in it, the crimson staining your hands for eternity. The dark terror you constantly staved away since falling into Middle Earth slowly froze your veins. All the things you’d done to fight it back - deep breathing, counting to ten, and stupid, ditzy humor - finally failed you. 
The reality of the world around you finally set in. 
Eyes wide and brimmed with tears, you stared up at the sky. Unblinking, even as rain fell directly in your eyes, you searched for answers in the clouds but found no answers to satiate the existential dread you couldn’t bury any longer. Sleep deprivation weighed heavily on you, but the adrenaline from the battle kept you wide awake. In the clouds, you searched for an epiphany. Desperate for a glimpse of relief, anything to make sense of the things you’ll see in all future nightmares to come.  
But there was nothing in the clouds, nothing in the sun, and nothing in the sky. There were no answers to your impossible questions. So there you stayed in the fields, frozen by a crisis.
You feared you'd be frozen there forever, turned to ice by the cold of your blood. How fragile life was, and how easily it could be snatched away. Would you be next, another body filling another battlefield?
“Y/N?” His voice was quiet but strong enough to be heard over the chaos in your mind. You didn’t turn, not at first, even as you heard the patter of his footsteps approaching. He did it on purpose, you knew, so light on his feet, he didn’t even imprint on snow. But he wanted you to know he was approaching. It caused a flicker of light to fill your eyes before sorrow doused it.
The smell of pine dampened the sting of death; dread was replaced by memories of unsure touches, quiet words, and a bold kiss before the fight that should’ve killed you both. Only then did you turn your eyes from the sky that seemed too blue for this day. 
Legolas stood behind you, not nearly as grimy as you surely were. Blood and dirt clung to his clothes, mud smeared on the contours of his face, but his eyes shone as bright as the sky above you. He didn’t speak, though the tilt of his head betrayed the questions and concerns he dared to not speak. 
You should be celebrating, you'd both lived to see another day. The budding love between you two wouldn’t be severed by the sharp knife of war, but it was hard to feel joy around so much despair. 
Legolas knelt before you, unbothered by the mud soaking through his pants. He reached towards you, taking one of your hands in his. A stark contrast to your cold body, his hands were warm and soft despite the callouses from decades of fighting.
“How do you deal with all this death?” Your eyes portrayed the desperation you felt. Lost at sea, you found an anchor in Legolas’ soothing presence. He grounded your mind to your body as it threatened to slip into the ether. Still, the questions clawed at your mind. “I can’t--" you shook your head. "I don’t understand how to.”
He paused, deeply inhaling as he pondered your words. “I would like to tell you it gets easier with time, and perhaps in a way it does, the sting not as crippling as the first. Yet I would be remiss to placate you with such words. You do not stop feeling grief in the face of so much death, but simply learn how to move through it.”
As if afraid to ruin the moment if you're too loud, you quietly sighed, visibly deflating at his words. You would learn to move past this grief, as you had when you mourned the life on Earth you’d lost. Somewhere deep in your mind you’d already known that, but hearing Legolas verbalize it only cemented the idea. 
Your eyes flickered to his lips, remembering the way they’d felt on yours, adrenaline and terror making it desperate and rushed. It had left you dazed and addled like a madman afterward. Not even the impending army was enough to crush the light feeling his touch elicited. You wanted to feel his lips again, without death and an army of orcs looming over your heads. 
To feel his lips against yours, with all the time in the world to memorize every curve of his face and inch of his body. But even the relief of evading death wasn’t enough to make you so bold. Uncertainty stayed your hand; doubt that painted the kiss as more meaningful to you than him. That his action was rash and ill-thought, born from the adrenaline of battle.
Yet the look in his eyes made it harder and harder to convince yourself of that.
Legolas glanced down at his other hand, which was closed in a fist, and opened it. Slightly damaged by his tight grip but otherwise untouched, was a wild daisy. It was smaller than daisies found in a garden, with three blooms in various sizes that clung to the stem. So pristine and untarnished, it couldn’t have been found on the fields of Helm’s Deep, at least not recently.
His gaze flickered up to meet yours, an intensity in his eyes that made your mind turn to static. 
“I found a cluster of them shortly before we arrived yesterday. I hoped to give them to you then, but never had the chance.” With a quiet voice, his words were only for you to hear. There was a shy grin on his face, not at all bearing the same insecurities you did.
A grin spread onto your face, a tinge of blush coloring your cheeks. The remnants of dread and terror melted away from the radiance of his smile and the intensity in his eyes.
“I’ve never had someone give me flowers before.” Your voice was as breathless as you’d felt. A simple gesture you’d never been on the receiving end of; it helped you feel grounded in your trepidation. 
“Then allow me the honor of showering you with them for the rest of eternity.” 
His words were bold, his grip on your hand tightening as if to further convey his sincerity. Rendered speechless, you couldn’t have spoken even if you wanted. Legolas had always seemed so shy and reserved in matters of love, but perhaps war brought out the boldness of people. Relief made you as light as a feather, an excitement within you that made you giddy and restless. He cared for you, just as you did him.
A stupid, dumb grin found its way to your face and you nodded, enthusiastically enough it made your headache worse. But no amount of physical pain could dull the glimmer in your eyes. 
Legolas returned your smile, brighter than the sun in the sky. There’d never be another gloomy day, not with Legolas by your side. He was bright enough to spark light in the darkest of days, the only sun you’d acknowledge from then on. 
He reached his hand toward you, gently setting the flowers behind your ears. His fingers lingered on your face, trailing down your cheeks, up your temples, and back down to cradle your jaw. Tingles were left in the wake of his touch, as your heart threatened to stop, but the electricity his touch rendered kept it beating.
The moments you’d both spent in that position were lost to you, time nothing more than an illusion. Mouth dry with anticipation, your eyes flickered down towards his lips again, subconsciously licking your lips in an attempt to moisten them. His eyes lowered to yours as well, both of you locked in a stalemate. 
You couldn't recall who was the cause of it, but the dam was broken, the river water rushing free. Your faces were getting closer by the second. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, his lips feathering across yours. Wide-eyed like a doe, you waited with bated breath. 
Legolas shot forward, his other hand finding a place on your face as your arms wound around his neck. In an instant his lips were attached to yours, so intertwined, it was hard to remember where you ended and he began. 
Just as you expected, this kiss was much gentler and softer, not sharpened by the fear of death. It was full of relief, screaming over and over again ‘thank god you're alive.’ It sent shivers up and down your spine, body numb to anything that wasn’t his touch.
Legolas pulled back, only an inch or so away from your lips, his nose tickled your face.
“Stay with me, after the quest is complete and we can all do as we please, stay with me.”
It was an easy answer, the simplest thing you’d encountered on this quest. Your hands retracted from his neck to hold his face. He leaned into your touch, like a contented cat.
“Wherever you go I’ll follow.” 
If you’d been told the essence of a star had been captured and placed in Legolas as its vessel, you wouldn’t have doubted it for a moment. It sent butterflies through your stomach but also blossomed hope and something worth fighting for. A thousand orcs seemed daunting when only fighting to survive, but those same numbers fade to nothing when you look at him. 
War wasn’t fair, and all too often people who didn’t deserve it died. It was ruthless and terrifying and not at all as glorious as you once believed. 
But for Legolas… for Legolas, you’d fight the armies of Mordor alone for the promise of staying by his side. 
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚
Tags: @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @mouseships | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @fried-potato-balloon | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @im-a-muggleborn | @ollyoxenfrees | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare |
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gabessquishytum · 6 months
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🍃 anon your mind!!
Hob finds himself in The Dreaming. He’s been there before maybe a handful of times now, a privilege he doesn’t realize he has as one of the few who know Dream for what He Is, but this is the first time Hob passes the gates.
Hob flows through the library as if he’s on a conveyor belt, shelves and titles passing by just slowly enough to read but too quick to pick up. Hob reaches one in particular ‘His Name: Jim’, but is whisked all the way to set of doors similar to the gate but so much more… delicate, responsive? Hob means to push through but the doors open with barely a touch.
The throne room - it is clearly the throne room. It’s the centerpiece of the entire chamber - is grand, no doubt: the ceiling is nearly too high to see, the stained glass windows loop and swirl settling and reforming, and the stairs… at once a serene bend and then impossibly, dauntingly long, leading to a single seat.
Striking, Hob thinks. Artistic. Impressive.
Lonely.
And there. On that grand, imposing, unapproachable pedestal, there was his Dream. Somehow as frigid as a statue yet pouring over the arms, liquid and resting his hand upon his
Belly?
Hob blinked twice. There was no doubt, Hob had lived several centuries, seen his mother heavy with two of his sisters, and he’d had a wife and a child (…’children’ he corrected. Always corrected.)
Point being, he knew what pregnancy looked like.
So here was his Stranger, eyes closed, rubbing slow circles over his stomach, seemingly lost to the world. If you could call this a ‘world’? And here was Hob watching, with not a clue what to do or how he was here or
Why he wasn’t the one holding Dream instead of that fucking chair.
Hob takes the first steps in a while since that strange conveyor through the castle, deliberately setting his foot on the stairway. He begins to ascend
‘Hob Gadling?’
He can’t see Dream from his current place on the stairs, but he would recognize that voice anywhere even if he and Dream *weren’t* the only beings in this vast hall (Hob isn’t positive on this, but he and Dream were the only beings Hob gave a damn about at the moment even if not).
His eyes snap up and he takes the stairs two at a time, breath somehow remaining steady despite the exertion, and just as he rounds this turn to catch a glimpse of Dream again, this time leaning forward on one slim arm the other cradling his rounded belly, Hob says
He blinks awake, legs twisted so thoroughly into his blankets he would have tripped if he’d tried to get up.
‘Running…’ Hob breathes out. He unwraps the sheet and blankets around him, sighs and lies back on his pillow. He’s not sure what his subconscious is pulling on him, but he knows it’s trouble. Dream is barely his friend now - after centuries! - Hob can’t afford to get distracted.
He absolutely can’t afford to be horny about the whole thing.
But his brain can’t stop rewinding to that first impression: Dream, serene, rubbing soothing circles over his full belly. So prominent on his boney frame.
Hob closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.
What he actually does is spend an hour Not Thinking about Dream and eventually having a cold shower just in time to leave for his first class.
This is nothing.
It’s fine.
- 🎱 anon
(I have …more help)
Omg yes!! Here's the link to 🍃's original ask for those who missed it. I'm definitely excited to talk more about this!! If you have more my dear anon, I'm always delighted to hear it!
I always love the idea of Hob accidentally dreaming himself into Dream’s personal space, either because he's just thinking about him so much or because the dreaming subconsciously recognises him as an Important Person and lets him get through the usual walls that sheild Dream from normal people. I particularly love this idea of Hob seeing Dream in this truly intimate moment... the two of them staring at each other, both lost for words.
And then Hob wakes up.
And it's not that Dream is embarrassed. He's more than a god, such things are nothing to him. But. He values his relationship with Hob Gadling, their fragile and still fresh friendship is special to him. He wouldn't want it to be spoiled. But there's nothing he can do - the dream within him is close to being born and he can't go into the waking world in this state. He'll simply have to hope that Hob forgets his dream or passes it off as nonsense.
Little does he know that Hob is spending his day desperately trying to catch a nap, even a snatch of sleep, so he can get back to the dreaming. He's concerned for his friend but there's something more than that. He can't let go of the image of Dream holding his gravid belly with tender hands. He feels this tugging sensation around his heart; a desperate and primal need. He needs to take Dream in his arms and hold him. It feels cosmically important.
The moment he drops into a brief sleep, his subconscious lands him right there in the throne room, just in time to find Dream crouching over, holding onto his throne with an iron grip. Dream’s face is twisted up, not in pain... but in pleasure.
And Hob realises that he's arrived just in time to see Dream give birth. Whoops!
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heyidkyay · 8 months
Text
I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |
Part Twenty-Six
A/n: Hey! Finally giving you 26 alongside some answers! Not sure how I feel about this part just yet, it was difficult to write but I hope you enjoy it all the same:) Let me know I suppose!
Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.
The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.
Warnings: Lots of feelings, swearing but should be expected this far in, mentions of toxic relationships
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And wouldn’t you just’ve guessed it. Ross was sat waiting on the steps of the villa for me when I finally returned. He watched me as I stepped out of a cab and ambled my way up the long drive, a cigarette pinched between his steady fingers.
It was quiet. Had been since I’d left Alvaro at the hospital.
I’d wandered around for a bit, unable to do much else other than think. He’d really given me a lot to think about. 
But then my migraine had started back up again and I’d suddenly felt sick to my stomach, I’d had to have this little old lady, working a stall, phone for a driver for me whilst I’d kept myself from spewing into the bath of a nearby fountain. It hadn’t been my finest moment but I’d made it back to the villa alive and the throbbing pain in my skull had dulled somewhat on the drive over. 
Ross was watching still as I walked closer and took perch on the step beside him, thankful for the small amount of shade the roof provided us with, the heat was doing nothing for my remaining nausea. He didn’t say anything for a long while, nor did he offer me a drag or a smoke of my own, which I wasn’t too fussed about. But even if I had been, I couldn’t have brought myself to ask, the sickness still there but getting easier with each deep breath I took. 
“Sent the lads out once we realised you were missing.” He murmured to me, eyes trained on the pebbled drive lain out before us.
I’d forgotten about them, the boys, in my hurry to escape. Just needing to unwind, desperate to forget, to get away. Matty had been asleep still, the others dotting about on their own. George… I had no idea, so I simply shook away the thought. 
“Knew you’d be back soon enough though.” Ross went on, taking a longer drag when he realised I wouldn’t be adding much to the conversation. “How’s the head?” He then asked me, changing the subject completely.
I swallowed, toying with a loose thread on my cardi. “Nearly chucked up in this pretty fountain down by the old town, gave the locals a right show.”
He didn’t laugh but I saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards, so easily amused by my sufferings. “Probably thought you were hung to hell, out on the piss ’til morning.”
I hummed around a tiny smile, tugging on the thread and enjoying the way it unraveled for me. “How’s the album coming?”
If Ross was surprised by my question he didn’t let it show, merely tilted his head then shrugged a shoulder lazily. “It’s not. Matt’s mind is elsewhere and G is… well, G is being G.”
That familiar guilt throbbed in me again, a reminder.
“Can’t be helped though.” Ross sighed, flicking away some remnant ash. “Can’t force this shit. It comes or it don’t.”
We were swept up by a breezy quiet then, both of us lost in our own heads. I kept finding myself opening my mouth to say something though, once, twice, then three times. There was this heated little knot of anxiety balled in the hollow of my ribs and someone just kept on tugging at it tighter and tighter until I finally begun to feel it fray and splinter.
“I kissed George.”
Ross’s head snapped in my direction at having heard my muted admission, but my eyes were trained still on the lit cigarette he held in his hand as though he’d forgotten it was even there. “What?”
But I knew he’d already heard me.
“You kissed George?” He breathed out once I made no move to repeat myself. 
I hummed again, swallowing down past the ache in my throat as I clung to my cardigan tighter. I glanced up at him when he didn’t say anything more, he was just staring back at me with these huge surprised eyes. I’d’ve smiled, it wasn’t every day you got to witness something like that, but couldn’t dim my anxiety.
“You kissed George.” Ross said again and I blew out a soft sigh whilst I let him internalise it. “When?” He asked me, unblinking. 
“’S’mornin’.” I mumbled in answer, those fraying threads of anxiety polluting the rest of my body now, like maggots infecting a soldier’s already dirtied wound. 
“Jesus Christ.” Ross breathed, shaking his head, and then he dragged a heavy hand down the length of his exhausted face. I suddenly felt like a chastised little kid getting ready to get told off. But Ross was better than that, he never rebuked the actions of the rest of us unless we took it a step too far- ‘Live and learn’ he’d often spout like the wise old man he truly was. “Explains why he had the face of a slapped arse then, don’t it?”
My brows rose but I didn’t push his reply. I didn’t want to know any more.
“What a way to start a holiday, hey?” He then added and we both had to laugh a little at his words, even if they were more depreciating than other. We shared another sigh and I watched on whilst he took one final drag before stumping the butt out, he glanced over to me after.
“I’m guessing the kiss is why you disappeared then?” Ross questioned, head tilted slightly as his eyes found mine. The smile I answered him with was wet and watery, and he could only lift an arm out towards me. “Oh, B…”
I let out a scoff of a cry at his pitiful words and fell limply into his side, feeling so incredibly lost. So stupid.
“It’s okay.” I heard him murmur above my head, both arms curling around my broken self to hold me better together. “It’ll be okay.”
Because it had to be, right?
I’d gone to bed after my impromptu sobbing session with Ross. How the man had yet to get sick of me and my onslaught of tears was beyond me- but I was thankful for it nevertheless. Especially when he brought a decent cuppa and a couple of biscuits to my bedside after.
That’d been a long while ago now though, long enough for the biscuits I hadn’t eaten to have gone stale and the tea discoloured and cold. I laid there, still, staring up at the ceiling. 
When I was little I used to paint stars up there with strokes of my eyes, imagine dark blue hues and gradient purples surrounding planets and glowing suns. But then I’d grown up and the dark had crept its way in, drowning my pretty stars in its shadows. 
I could still picture them sometimes though, mostly back when I’d been curled up in bed with George. I’d see them. Dimmer than the years before, but there, twinkling. They’d long since abandoned me again though. All I saw now was a blank ceiling staring back at me.
I sighed, forcing my eyes away from it and out towards the window where the sun had since set. I questioned how another day had so quickly slipped past me.
The boys had since returned too, I’d heard them stumble in an hour or two ago. Maybe even three. They’d wanted to check in, I’d seen their shadows dance beneath my closed bedroom door and heard their muted arguments. But my guess is that Ross somehow waylaid them, because they hadn’t pushed any further than that. Although, my phone had buzzed a couple dozen times.
It was somewhere on the floor, settled on the pile of clothes I’d stripped out of.
Quiet now though. The villa, I meant. My mind not so much. I still couldn’t work out for the life of me what the fuck I wanted. Scared and too fucking afraid to come to an actual decision. I didn’t want to be hurt again, but I also knew that either way I could be. So, I either push George further away and end up breaking my own heart, or risk everything and just have him do it for me, for the hundredth time.
Too many fucking thoughts. Too big a decision to make.
I wanted to bury myself in my pillow, burrow further away, but I could feel a headache coming on and so, in hopes to avoid it, I peeled myself from out under the safety of my covers and over to the door, figuring that a decent brew might just do the job.
The house was dimmed as I made my way down the stairs, only the outside porch lights were still on, though I could hear murmurs of movement as I passed by the guys’ rooms.
I kept the kitchen light off when I made my way over to the counter, instead opting to use the fridge as a lamp whilst I worked my way around the kettle, nicking one of the many Russian caravan teabags Matty so liked.
It was nice, down here alone, bare feet sliding across the chilled tiles as the evening air crept its way inside through the French doors. Peaceful almost. Once the tea was made I figured I’d make my way out there too and so I did, settled myself under the familiar peach tree I’d taken to seeing as it’d been a few days since I’d had the opportunity to hide out underneath it. 
I could see the ripples in the pool from here, as well as the shorts some of the boys had left out to dry, three pairs of them all slung over a sun-lounger, a damp puddle beneath. I sipped away at my tea and felt myself longing more and more for a cigarette, I hadn’t had one since the night spent with George, and even then it’d hardly been a drag. 
But what I wouldn’t do for another.
A small sigh escaped me and I settled my teacup down to the side so that I could pull my legs in closer, knees tucked up under my chin as the wind danced over my bare skin.
“What would you do then, hey?” I heard myself whisper out into it, eyes casted upwards towards the so-called heavens. “Probably wouldn’t say much. Just sort my mess out for me, yeah?”
I blew out a tiny wet chuckle, knowing I was dead right.
It was nights like these that I just found myself talking to him, my dad that is. Not often but enough. On days when things felt heavier, harder.
It had been a long time since I’d last done so. That fact alone also reminded me of how much time had passed since he’d been gone. Been gone longer than I’d ever known him. We’d never had enough time. But that was just life, wasn’t it?
I vividly remember the day he passed. I’d felt it long before they’d ever even told me. Sat on the bottom step of the staircase, phone pressed tightly to my ear. I’d felt it. I’d known something had happened. But he’d been at the hospital and she’d been there with him. So I’d phoned, and she’d said everything was fine. But I’d known. I’d felt it deep down. Something had shifted.
It made me wonder now, here in this pretty little garden, how many times a heart could shatter before it stopped letting you put it back together. Too many pieces lost in the explosion. Not enough parts to make it work the same.
My dad’s death had taken a few too many pieces, I think. The rest had just followed.
Now, he wasn’t much of a gambler, my old man, but I knew that he’d bet a pretty penny if he was here right now on my next decision. He’d always had a way of knowing my next move before I’d ever even thought it. Wise in his own way and not the traditional sort. Hated school but loved anything that could keep his hands and mind busy. Could read people better than he could most words. 
I was wired in a similar way.
And I couldn’t stop myself from wishing then that he could only hear me so that he’d just tell me what I was going to do next. 
It was hard, not having him here.
“You ever think they look back?”
My head jerked upwards like a horse dislodging a fly at the unexpected voice, only to find George stood there by the door, bare foot too with his hands tucked into his pockets. I gaped for a brief moment before I swallowed down my surprise and followed his nod over to where the stars were twinkling high above.
“Maybe.” I replied, unable to help myself.
George hummed and stepped closer, down off the step he was tittering on. I wondered how long he’d been there. “Always loved them though, you have. Remember you dragging me out into the fields late at night to watch them years back. Only ever loved London in the day because at night they were too hard to spot.”
I exhaled the heaviness I felt weigh on my chest. “They give me hope. Let me pretend that things last.”
“What d’you mean?” He questioned, both our voices far too quiet. Too careful. There were lines being tread now. 
I shrugged a single shoulder, chin digging deeper into my shin as I stared up at the well-lit sky. “They die, don’t they? Just like us. Give the illusion that they’re permanent, that they’ll never fade out. But they do, we just don’t see it. Don’t realise that they’re all just dying millions of miles away.”
“Biblical that.”
I snorted at his dry response, a soft sound I couldn’t quite help. “Far from.”
He merely hummed again, then took another step closer drawing my attention, I dipped my head once and then looked away when he pointed down to the ground beside me. I focused on keeping my breathing even as he settled there, stretching his legs out before us.
“Where’d you disappear to then?” After you kissed me… George questioned after a minute.
I wet my lower lip and let a hand slip from where it’d been curled around my leg to toy with the tea I’d brought out with me. It’d gone cold.
“I walked around for a bit. Just thinking.”
“Ah.” He replied, a very George like reaction if I did say so myself. So monosyllabic. “Anything good?”
I huffed a small amused chuckle, wrinkling the cup’s dark liquid. “Did I think of anything good?”
“Hm.”
I shook my head, flicking away the wetness I’d gathered on my fingertips. “Dunno. Not really. Just had a lot on my mind.”
“Thing with thinking, is that it’s dead useful, but only sometimes.” George retorted and I glanced over to find him fidgeting with the grass beneath us. “Most days I just wish everything would shut up. Gets too loud and I can’t even escape it, you know? ‘Cause it’s all in my head.”
I did know.
He looked up and caught me staring, gifted me the tinniest of smiles from beneath shadowed eyes and dark lashes. “Seen any shooting stars whilst you been out here then?”
I returned the sentiment, eyes lingering on the curve of his lips, remembering…
“No, but you know me, luck’s never been very fortunate to us.”
George’s gaze drifted between my own. “I don’t know about that,” He said, voice velvety and low. “You seem to do alright on your own.”
I scoffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, if you could call it that.”
George’s elbow nudged my side. “Come on, look at what you’ve got. A job you love, people you love, smile of an angel.”
I nudged him right back, mostly in retaliation for that last comment. Charmer, just like Nana had always claimed.
“Oh yeah, can’t complain me.” I joked, mind stuck on every bad thing that’d ever been thrown at me. And though I tried not to let it show, he still knew. 
He knew me better than I knew myself. And vice-versa. I’d almost forgotten that fact about us.
George was turned better towards me now, his stance a little more open, and in the haze of the moonlight I caught sight of his eye, my head shot out to really see it.
“Oh God,” I gasped mutedly, hand reaching out towards the welt on his face before I could think better of it. “Did I do that?”
George just laughed me off, hand catching mine before I could touch the injured eye, my attention snapped down towards it, though he didn’t release me. “It’s not that bad, just raised a bit, like you said it would. Go down in a day or two.” He assured and I could only mutter another quiet sorry before he was shaking his head at me and smiling. “It was an accident- and even if it weren’t, it’s the least I deserve, innit?”
He laughed whilst I simply scowled. “Don’t say that.”
“What? It’s true, ain’t it?” George replied, “Been so shit to you. Never fucked up more. So I wouldn’t blame you for it even if you did choose to batter me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, George.”
“Like I did you?” He quipped straight back, hard eyes trained on mine now, “‘Cause it’s the truth. I fucking promised no one would ever hurt you again, all those years ago. Remember that? And look at where we are now. I’ve broken that promise nine times over.”
I let go of a heavy sigh, “G, you haven’t-”
“The fuck I haven’t! I have! I have. And do you know what’s worse?” He asked me, hand still cradling mine, hold soft and gentle. “I have the fucking nerve to sit here and ask you to forgive me, to take me back.” He scoffed at himself and my breath caught when he finally dropped my hand. “The things I‘d do to take it all back.” He muttered deeply, clucking his tongue as he shook his head.
“I wouldn’t want you to.” I told him honestly, my reply surprising both him and I.
“How can you say that?” He looked back at me, his expression pinched.
I shrugged, casting a long glance out over towards the pool. “‘Cause you can’t take it back, can you? So there’s no real point in trying, or stressing about the things we’ll never be able to change. Life is shit, you deal with it.”
George released a shaky breath and dragged a rigid hand over the back of his head. “I really messed you up, didn’t I?”
That made me pause. It was too close to the truth. 
“No more than anyone else did.”
The sound that escaped him then shocked me to my core and my head snapped back over to where he was perched beside me, tears in his eyes, mouth strained to keep any other sound like it from falling out. He wouldn’t look at me, just kept on shaking his head. “And that’s what kills me.” He breathed, voice tight, cheeks hollowed. “God. That’s what fucking kills me.”
I didn’t know what to say. I could only stare at him, wind caught on the lump in my throat. 
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him cry, but I knew it’d never been like this.
“George-” I whispered out, unable to utter much else, but he just shook his head again, rubbing at his eyes.
“Nah, it’s fine.” He sniffed, chuckling at himself whilst he worked his jaw to keep from outwardly crying anymore. “It’s- well it’s like I said, ain’t it? No less than what I deserve. Fuck. I’m just so sorry. So fucking sorry. And I’m not sure if I’ve even told you that yet.”
“You have.” I reassured him in a croaky whisper, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. “You did.”
“I want to take it all back. I just want to do it all over.” He choked out, trying so very hard to avoid my gaze, to not let me see him cry. “I want so fucking much, but, there’s not much point in wanting, is there? I can’t take it back, I can’t make it make sense. And I can’t tell you how much I wish that I’d never fucking let you go in the first place. That I’d ever let myself fuck up the best thing I’ve ever had. No fucking point, no use!”
I untangled myself from my position to reach out towards him, fingers catching the side of his face like they had that very same morning. My mind flashed back to him in my bed, my lips against his. I forced his face towards me, coaxing him, “Look at me, will you? Just look at me. I need you to see. Okay? I need you to look at me and see the mess that I’ve become, the mess that I’ve always been, yeah? Because neither of us are fucking perfect, G, and, sure, you might’ve messed up, you might’ve hurt me, but that doesn’t just make me stop loving you, okay? That doesn’t erase our past and make everything that we’ve ever shared just go away. Alright? I need you to know that. I need you to understand that no matter what happens from here on out, that you will always be apart of my life. I need you to know that. I just- I need you to, okay?”
His dark and watery eyes were flitting back and forth, left then right, between my own, blatant shock staring me back in the face. I had to tell him though, he had to know. He had to.
“You hear me?” I shook his head in my hands and he raised his to cover my own, he nodded at me, just barely, and let his fingers rest against mine. My eyes were locked on his, I saw every emotion he’d ever felt flit through those brown eyes, because we were like magnets, George and I, when we collided nothing else on God’s green Earth could pull us apart, and in that moment I wanted it to always stay that way. With him beneath me, the stars in his eyes.
My forehead was pressing against his before I’d even felt myself lean in, knees hooked over either side of him, pressing deep into the soil. His hands stayed with mine, but his eyes were hooked on me so intensely that I had to let my own fall close. His fingers interlocked with mine. I felt his breath tickle my skin.
My heart ached like a hole that had been torn through my chest and it felt as though we were floating, far from the villa and its peach tree, from the Earth and all its noise. Like we’d just gone and switched the entire planet off.
I heard his swallow. And fuck, he was so shaky it almost felt like holding onto my very own earthquake.
“I’m right where you left me, Birdie.” George murmured into the blank space between us, that inch of air that separated us. And those words just rendered me helpless.
And who could really blame me? Blame me for being drawn in again. For reaching out and cupping his familiar face, for trailing a careful thumb over the curve of his cheek to the corner of his mouth. 
He made me so irrational. Made me forget. Had me faltering above him, even when I had the upper hand here, made my lips part on their own accord just as his nose lightly brushed my own. I couldn’t waste another second debating with myself, looking for answers that ceased to come; I slid my hand to the back of his neck and let him draw me in further, pausing only slightly for just a second before my lips found his.
It felt like coming home, kissing George. So familiar, with a vague sentiment of relief. The kiss was slow and delicate, probing almost, like we were both still trying to get over the fact that it was even happening. This kiss so unlike the one we’d shared before.
George responded in kind, let his lips fall open even more to savour it, his hands diving to my waist, fingers pressed into my sides.
I’d pictured this, made up so many scenarios in my head over the span of the last year that it was hard to rationalise the how and the why. But it was happening and I couldn’t bring myself to stop it, to pull apart. 
George was so tender this time around and I welcomed him in when he ran his tongue searchingly beneath my own. The softness of the kiss had me falling further into his embrace, and he didn’t even bat an eyelid, simply held me up. Like before. His touch grew more needy, fingers digging deeper into my waist when I pressed my chest up against his, teeth grazing lightly over my bottom lip enough for me to let out a soft moan, a moan that he then swallowed whole.
And it was then that I felt so overwhelmed, wanting more. Needing more than just this. But I couldn’t bring myself to shift any closer, to have him lay back, to lose myself in the madness that was him. His hands slipped to my hips, fingertips skimming the edge of my top, touching skin, it was that which made me stiffen, pull away.
I was breathing heavily, as was George when he quickly dropped his hands and allowed me to create some much needed space between us again. My head swimming.
“We can’t.” I attempted to say and he nodded, eyes taking in everything they could of my face. I must’ve looked a right picture as I inhaled shakily above him. “Not like this. I- we need to talk.”
George nodded again, I watched his chest rise and fall, watched him rub his lips together. Gaze trained on me.
“We can’t.” I whispered again, but I no longer knew who I was speaking to. 
“We can’t.” He parroted me, seeming to really understand the words now. He inhaled sharply and then glanced down. “But if we can’t, then you’ve really got to get off my lap now, B.”
I followed his gaze and blinked, realising my position. “Shit, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”
George blew out a faint chuckle, watching as I rolled off him. Warier still whilst rearranging himself, as though he was scared to take another wrong step. “No need to say sorry, always enjoy a lapful of you.” He gifted me a kind grin. “But you are right. We should talk.”
Talk. It felt like all we’d done since the night of my birthday is talk. We were talking and talking, saying an awful lot without saying much at all. But I had no idea where to start here.
Thankfully though, he did.
“I ended things.”
The air in my lungs froze as I moved to inhale, never having expected that to be the thing he’d start with. A truth, yes, but one I hadn’t thought he’d admit out loud, let alone to me. 
“You did.” I breathed, blowing the stilted air through my nose as I fought not to let the ground shift beneath me. Talk, we were finally talking.
“And I was a fucking idiot.”
I scoffed out a surprised laugh, “You are.”
He smiled at me, but it was hastily replaced by a melancholy I hadn’t much seen on him before.
“I should’ve just spoken to you. I realise that now, but I was so fucking lost, B. Like, I could hardly even think, let alone open up about how I was feeling.” He murmured to me, hands clasped tightly in his lap, I watched them whilst he watched the sky once more. “I was too scared. I was a fucking coward. And when I left, I realised I couldn’t go back. ‘Cause that look you had on your face.” He shook his head, inhaling deeply, “That look…” He blew out the breath. “God, I’d never hated myself more.”
I didn’t say anything in return. Whether it was due to my surprise at the pair of us finally hashing things out, or something other, I couldn’t be sure. 
George continued on and I was confused by his next question, “You remember the week before it?”
I just had to nod, “Vaguely.” 
It’d been a normal week, him in the studio, me at work. Hadn’t seen much of each other but he still came home each night, we fell asleep together. Like always.
He huffed then sucked in a cheek, chewing on his lip in thought, eyes stuck on the horizon. “I’d leave early morning, walk around for a bit, then end up in the studio and not leave ’til late. I couldn’t sleep at night, so I’d just lie there with you. If I caught a couple hours then I’d be able to plaster on a smile for you, the guys. But my head was properly fucked. Couldn’t stop thinking. Phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Ended up drinking just to get through the days. All ‘cause I felt fucking sorry for myself.”
It didn’t make much sense. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask or to look away, sure that I’d see something in his next movement that would fill me in or maybe hear it in his words.
He toyed with the grass. “Mum phoned me a couple times before that week. She showed up the Friday before everything went to shit.”
I gave a slight nod again as I took it in, understanding a little better now. It explained his mood. How quiet he’d been. I’d reckoned he was just tired, drained from constantly working the way he did. But if his mum was involved, then I had no idea what could’ve gone down. Nothing good though. 
“I’d always kept her at a distance since we’d left Manchester.” He went on to say, “We spoke when needed, saw each other when she asked. Mostly for my dad’s sake though.”
But I already knew all this.
“She turned up that Friday ‘cause I’d kept on dodging her calls. No warning. Just turned up out of the blue. And I was mainly just thankful that she’d managed to catch me on the way out, instead of at the flat with you. Didn’t want you to see her, her to see you.” George admitted quietly, eyes flicking towards me for a split second before darting away again. “No clue how she’d known where to find me either, but she’d driven all night- or so she claimed. And I felt as though I owed it to her to hear her out, so we walked on over to that little cafe on the corner of our road and she told me she couldn’t take much more.”
I frowned. “Take much more of what?”
“Me.” He laughed, a hollow sound that made me still. “Had enough of me, of the papers, the headlines. People back home. She was embarrassed apparently. And I could understand somewhat, the drugs she’d never liked, the drinking too excessive, but then she reckoned she’d been told a couple stories, yeah?”
Confused, my frown only deepened. “Stories?”
He licked at the flesh of his lip, my eyes tracked the movement then dropped down to where he was drumming his thumb on his kneecap. He wouldn’t look back at me. 
“Stories. Just, gossip, you know. From the locals back home.” George stated, gaze jumping from one thing to the next. But never landing on me. “She’d hurt her hip the year before and so she’d stopped working remotely, decided to ease her hours down so that she could take things a bit easier. Dad seemed all for it when he’d let me know, having her back home. But, that meant she was actually there and I reckon that’s why people took note of her. She hadn’t been around much since the band started but you know how them lot are, they like to talk. To stick their noses in everybody else’s business but their own, wanted word on us lot down in London. If we were really making it big.”
George rolled his eyes then swiped a tongue across his front teeth. It angered him, irritated him when people felt as though they deserved to know the ins and outs of his entire life. He was a private person for the most. And I knew it agitated him more for the fact that his mum had been involved.
“What stories, George?” I asked, heart in my mouth. Because I already knew, didn’t I?
He worked his jaw, thumb still tapping relentlessly away. I wanted to reach out and still the movement, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare to move.
“What stories?” I prodded again, firmer this time.
“About Matt and his family, him using. Rehab. If I were the same way. You know.” George replied hurriedly, jaw still tightly wound, and I titled my head at him wanting to hear the rest of it that was bound to come. “She said some vile things, yeah? And, I don’t know. I just, it, they pissed me off. I didn’t want to stay sat there and listen to her rant, just let her go on and fucking on-”
I cut him off. “What else did she say, George?”
He closed his eyes and then slowly turned his head towards me, I saw the guilt swimming in them when they reopened, the pain, the anger. “They told her all there was to know about you. They told her all about you, Birdie.”
Suddenly my tongue was too heavy to sit comfortably in my mouth and my eyes were stinging in time to match the swelling of my throat. They’d told her about me. And I wasn’t stupid enough not to realise exactly what that meant. What had been said. I knew what they all thought of me, what they’d always thought ever since that fucking night. Knew that they still let him walk around free, that they listened to his tales, to his lies. That they whispered about my mum, the neglect, the things I’d supposedly done to have survived living in that poor house. George knew I knew too. That’s why he’d been so reluctant to say. That’s why he’d-
“That why you fucking walked out then?” I spat at him, my anger misplaced but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that he’d been the one to hold me through most of it, didn’t care for his previous claims, because he’d left, hadn’t he? And this was the fucking reason. 
George opened his mouth to speak, brow pinched, but I didn’t let him get a word in edgeways.
“What, was it too much for your big rockstar image then? To have a girlfriend as fucked as me? What, were you suddenly embarrassed, George? Did your mum make you finally see sense? Reason?” I laughed bitterly and moved to stand, to walk the fuck away from him and all the emotions he pulled so effortlessly out of me, but a firm hand caught my wrist and I snapped my gaze down towards him. “Don’t grab me like that.”
Immediately George released me and he looked apologetic for a brief moment, but that anger was still there and that only sent my guard up more. 
“You know fucking better than that!” He retorted heatedly, “Don’t just section me off with the rest of them, yeah? ‘Cause you know I don’t deserve that. I was fucking there! I never left. I was there through it all. And never once did you ever or have you ever embarrassed me! Not you, not your life, not your fucking story! So just don’t, eh. Don’t go and say shit like that to me. Not when we both know that it’s the furthest thing from the truth.”
“Then what am I supposed to believe, George!” I shouted back at him, tears welling in my eyes, hands fisted to keep from lashing out, to keep from breaking completely. “Because how can I not assume that, when you’ve treated me exact same way they have! When you pushed me out and fucking left without even a warning, without a reason! Tell me, what am I supposed to think!”
“I left to fucking protect you, you daft cow!” George shot back, bewildered with his face so open. “I left because there was no other fucking way to keep you safe from the rest of the fucking world! I left ‘cause she threatened to tell people, to sell it all to the tabloids or whoever the fuck would listen, if I didn’t get my act together, if I didn’t-”
“If you didn’t leave me.” I finished for him. 
All the fight seemed to drain out of the two of us then. George’s head dropped in acknowledgment and I pressed my lips tightly together as I casted a blurry glance out over the rest of the garden to keep from outwardly sobbing. If I cried now, I didn’t know if I would ever stop.
“And you listened.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, rubbing at my strained eyes, the headache that had been tittering was a full blown minefield now, exploding across the length of my skull. “You listened.” I repeated and heard the way my voice cracked, how dry my throat felt. 
“Of course I listened. There was nowt else I could do! You were fine being in the background, watching us. You didn’t want anything else! If I’d’ve let her leave, she would’ve told everyone. She’s fucking spiteful if nothing else, can’t stand to see me happy, would be better off seeing me skint on my arse and working in a factory than have any of this. This life. She hates it!”
“And what does she think of me now, hey? Must reckon I’m some cheap skank dirtying you up, dragging you down with me.” I scoffed at the very thought, but mostly because it felt much too close to the truth. I had been dragging him down with me and it hurt to realise that he’d probably be better off never having even laid eyes on me. 
He pointed a finger towards me hotly which counteracted the way he shook his head so sadly. “Don’t say shit like that, okay? ‘Cause I know exactly what you’re thinking. I know it, because I know you. Not once have you ever, ever made me feel that way. When I’m with you-” George blew out a breathy laugh, “With you it’s like there is no one else. Don’t you get that? Didn’t you see the fucking state you left me in? I was a mess! You were the only thing ever keeping me on track. How can you not see that?”
“George, look at where you are!” I argued with him, “Look at the life you’ve built for yourself. The places you’ve been, the people you’ve met! And yet here you are, still sat with me, a florist who can hardly tie a ribbon, a girl sick beyond help, asking for another chance. You could do better, George, you know it. ”
“Fuck you.” He was angry again, but more sad than angry this time, his nose flared and his eyes were cut towards me. “Nah, honestly fuck you for saying that. For thinking it at all! ‘Cause I’m the one who left you, B. Not just once, no, not just fucking once, but twice. Twice! I should’ve manned the hell up! Pulled myself together and been there for you after that accident. Not walked away when you needed me most and left you in that ambulance! On your own! With fucking strangers there instead of me! Me! I’m not the one who deserves better, Birdie, that’s all you.”
He chuckled, though not one full of humour. One of mourning regret, the kind that seemed to catch you dizzyingly and make it so you couldn’t make any other sound. I stared at him, chest rising and falling with each trembling breath.
“And what life would I actually have if hadn’t been for you, eh? What life?” George added, prodding further, and I saw that he was crying too, silently like me, eyes shinning with unshed tears. “Because if I remember rightly, it was you that gave this all to me. You who walked in and changed everything.”
“How the fuck did I do all this then?” I laughed, more of a broken sob than anything else though, shaking my head at him with a pitiful smile. “How is this all down to me!”
“You don’t see it, do you?” He whispered to me quietly in reply and it made me realise how loud we must’ve been, screaming at the top of our lungs. “You’re the one who gave me the boys, the band. You’re the person who gave me a fucking escape, Birdie. ‘Cause you might claim to be screwed up, B. But I’m exactly that, only twice as bad.”
“You’d have gotten here in the end, G. You’re too talented not to’ve.” I told him in a defeated tone, too tired to continue on with this pissing contest anymore, to scream and shout and claim to be the worser person. He’d left me. And yeah, he’d left me more than once, but who could blame him? Who could honestly put up with the likes of me? “We all make choices and, yeah, the ones you’ve been making as of late have been shit. But we live with them. We learn. You’d’ve made something of yourself, George, with or without me.”
George sighed heavily and forced his head back to stare up at the dark night sky, whilst I wiped helplessly at my tear stained cheeks and the wetness which clung to my chin.
“But I did it with you, B.” He finally spoke before he released another breath and dropped his head down to look back at me. “And I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. I did it with you. I did it all for you. So that me and you could leave that fucking town. So that I could keep my promise.”
My heart broke just as his voice did on that very last word.
“I love you. And I don’t care how long I have to spend proving that to you. But if it takes me the rest of my fucking life, then I’ll do it without complaint. Because you are it for me, Birdie. I’ve lived without you, and I didn’t like it much. You are the only thing I need.”
I stared at him. 
“What about your mum, the fans?” I voiced the hushed question into the otherwise silent garden.
He licked at his lower lip and I watched the way his eyes flickered when he sucked in another long breath. “That’s down to you. I can’t protect you from the world, I should’ve listened when you told me that all those years ago, but I’ve learnt now. And maybe, maybe I’m scared too. Maybe I’m terrified to hurt you all over again, or for you to just give up on me. But I’m asking for a chance, and with it, I’m prepared to give up everything else.”
I cocked my head at him, confused. “What do you mean? Give what up?”
“This.” He told me plainly and I knew, my lips parted and I could only shake my head in return.
“No. No, I’d never ask you to do that, and fuck you for even thinking I would.”
George reached out to me then, hands carefully taking my forearms, an attempt to soothe me. Like old times, I thought. I wondered if he thought the same, or if it was just instinctual.
“You wouldn’t have to ask, B. And I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you now that I don’t care what I have to lose. This? This life? It means nothing without you in it. It means nothing if you aren’t here to share it all with me. I’ve lived it. I suffered through it, felt nothing but fucking regret.” He murmured and it was then that I felt the first few drops of summer rain. “A chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“A chance.” I mimicked, blinking at him from under wet lashes whilst raindrops came down heavier around us.
“Just a chance.” He assured me before he wiped the dampening hair from off my cheek, hands resting either side of my face. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
Part Twenty-seven>
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imarvelatthestars · 2 years
Text
(I Want You To) Stay
Notes: Partially inspired by 'Lost In The Fire' by Gesaffelstein & The Weeknd. Written between the airing of episodes 3 & 4, so I don't even know if this will eventually fit into the canon timeline.
This was written entirely for myself and all my favorite kinks, so this fic feels a lot truer to my personal experiences and tastes than most others I've read. Enjoy?
Warnings: threesome, oral (fxf), fingering, choking, hair pulling, voyeurism, guided sex (Layla and Reader guide Steven), unprotected sex (fxf & mxf), slight angst, use of she & her pronouns for reader
Pairings: Marc Spector & Steven Grant x Reader x Layla El-Faouly, vague mention of Jake Lockley
Word Count: 5,165
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The past few days - weeks? - have been hell. You miss your bed back in London, your flat and the foggy mornings and the museum where you and Steven should be. But instead, you're in Egypt with a man who isn't Steven but wears his face, and the most gorgeous woman you've ever met, who also happens to be not-Steven's estranged wife. Not-Steven's name is Marc and he's all rough and jagged edges and castle walls built up to protect himself. Marc's wife is called Layla, an archaeologist with the fierce yet unassuming spirit of the desert dunes burning inside her. You miss Steven; the two of you had spent nearly a year getting know each other on lunch breaks and half-rushed outings for tea and book shopping, had spent nearly a year building up to something, only for it all to disintegrate with the arrival of Marc, Jake, Khonshu, and the Ammit cult. Now you're caught up in the midst of it and you're not sure if you regret it or not because the three of you are bruised, bloody, and intoxicated, and Layla's looking between you and Marc like she's furious. Or ravenous.
You throw back your fourth shot of the night as somebody's phone blasts a heavy, electro-pop beat on the kitchen counter of a borrowed flat. Your head is swimming and your fingers and toes are starting to tingle. Your eyes sting from holding back tears because the more you drink, the more you think about Steven and how much you miss the tender glimmer in his eyes and the shy dance he does around his feelings for you every time you're near, and the more you think about how Marc looks everything and nothing like him. Marc is confident and suave and strong, he's brave and bloody, and if Steven is handsome, then he's gorgeous. He's almost scary, but you know he's safe somehow. You know he'd never hurt you. In fact, you're pretty sure you remember seeing him once or twice before in stolen glimpses at a suddenly tense and stern looking Steven. Has he always been around? You wonder what he thinks about you. You wonder if it matters.
"So is either one of you going to finally tell me what's going on?" Layla asks.
You swallow nervously as Marc stops fidgeting with his empty shot glass. He leans back against the counter with his one elbow supporting his weight; he's trying to act casual, you think.
"What's going on with what?" he counters tiredly.
"Between you two."
Your head snaps towards Marc as his gaze flies and locks onto you. You feel your cheeks heat up and that angsty feeling from earlier start to rise up in your chest. There's something in his eyes that reminds you of Steven, something tender that's reaching for you.
Marc looks away first. "There's nothing going on with us, Layla."
She looks at you with an eyebrow raised. "Is that true?"
You nod and feel a tear slip down the side of your cheek. You manage to wipe it away by pretending to rub your eyes, like you're so tired you can barely keep them open. "Yes," you frown. "I never met Marc before all this, it was just Steven. But we never-. Nothing ever happened. We didn't-."
"Didn't you?" But she doesn't sound accusatory or angry. Just curious.
"No," you reply.
She hums thoughtfully. "Did you want to?"
The liquor betrays you and you admit the answer easier and quicker than you would have liked. It's a blatant, simple "yes", not hesitated or fumbled or unsure. And you're a little embarrassed, but your blood is also thundering through your veins and Marc is eyeing you a little closer than he ever has and your heart is starting to race.
Layla nods and throws back another shot; you're not sure what number she's on now. "Well," she begins with her hands on her hips. "We made it out alive, didn't we? All in one piece?"
You and Marc share a look and nod, albeit hesitantly. Where is this going?
"I say we celebrate."
Marc shakes his head. "No, Layla-"
She spins and puts her hands on his jaw to draw him in, plants a kiss right on his lips so quickly that he doesn't even react. He stands there and takes it, but doesn't move. She pulls away, eyes flitting across his face and they seem to say something, but you try not to interpret it. You know it will only hurt. More than this situation already does.
And as you turn back to the counter to either get another shot or lock yourself into the bathroom and cry your eyes out for the next hour, Layla catches you by the wrist and jerks you back. You can feel the Earth crashing into you as she descends on you, all tongue and wet heat and fingers grabbing at whatever soft, pliable flesh she can reach. You shatter into her and fall apart with wanton, needy moans that rip you apart from your navel to your nose.
When she finally pulls away, her mouth is damp with your saliva and her eyes are throbbing, if such a thing is possible. She's a warm, lithe streak of want dotted with constellations in the shape of freckles and if it weren't for Steven, she might be everything you've ever wanted. You look past her at Marc, whose mouth is parted as he watches your lips like it's his first time discovering them.
Something shifts in the air and you know beyond any shadow of a doubt that this is happening, and not even the gods themselves could stop it. Your heart hammers in your chest as Marc takes a step forward, almost timid, then another and another until he's filling up the entirety of your vision, blocking out the world like an eclipse. The skin of his hands is rough and they smell like sweat and whiskey, but they brush against you all the same and you wilt like a flower in his heat. His tongue sweeps across you, molding into the cavern of your mouth and you feel like flying.
A hand rolls over your hip, wrinkling the fabric of your thin linen skirt, then tugs at your shirt. Oh my god, you think, this is happening. This is really happening. Because your shirt is untucked and loose and his hands are on your skin, seeking out your breasts and massaging his fingerprints into them. You moan and it's vulgar. Your shirt is gone in a flash and his lips are latched onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin and your panties flood with arousal at the thought of him marking you. Even if he isn't yours and you aren't his, you're still intrinsically linked.
Marc finally reels himself back, satisfied with his work as he looks you over. You gaze up at him and you can hardly breathe. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smug little grin and it makes your thighs clench.
"Maybe we should continue this somewhere else," he suggests as he looks to Layla.
She is bright and radiant as she slips her bra off from underneath her shirt. You can see the peaks of her breasts poking through and it unlocks something wild deep inside you. You nod absently at Marc's suggestion because a bed sounds fantastic right now, but you're more focused on the fact that Layla has never looked so ready to be devoured as she does in this moment, so you grab her by the end of her shirt and tug.
Your name bubbles out of her with a laugh, but she goes still almost immediately as you wrap her hair around your fingers and pull. The sound she makes is so obscene, so rich that you can feel it in your own body as you latch onto her earlobe, her jaw, the vein pulsing blue in her neck.
"Fuck," she breathes, low and whiny, and you can't stand it anymore.
"Need you," you say through your teeth as you start to stumble backwards, still attached through her hair and your mouth. "Both of you."
Marc is right beside you and breathing into your hair, and you break away from Layla long enough to turn and kiss him. "You gonna be good for us, sweetheart?" he whispers, his eyelashes nearly brushing yours. You nod.
His thumb rubs over your bottom lip and he lets you take him in your mouth for a moment. He feels heavy and it's perfect. You need more of him, need him inside you any way he wants, just so long as he's there and Layla's there and you're all a mess of limbs and lust and liquor.
A shock of pale brown skin comes into view as your eyelids flutter up and down. You see a hand drift across Marc's shoulder, then up his neck, over his cheek, and into his hair. Layla pulls hard to expose his Adam's apple, and your stomach churns as the scattered streetlamp lights and faint glow of an old digital clock illuminate the length of his neck. He chokes on his own pleasure and rocks between the two of you, all solid planes and muscle, and he's stunning. You take this moment as a chance to explore him, lift his shirt up his abdomen and admire the way his skin glistens and the hairs trailing from his navel down below the line of his jeans.
When you lift your eyes, you see that he and Layla are still tangled together but her hand is around his neck and he looks like he's about a minute away from dropping to his knees, and you're caught between feeling like an intruder and wanting to take what's yours. So you stuff his shirt up to his armpits and kiss him, let your tongue wander over his chest and down to the valleys between his muscles. You keep going until you're kneeling near his hips and then you pause and just, look.
His stomach is firm, yes, but it's also soft. He's fit, but he hasn't lost the gentle squish padding his lower stomach and the very top of his hipbones. He's malleable in your hands and he trembles when you touch him. He shuffles a little and his shirt goes flying over your head, meanwhile Layla's pants and his belt fall to the floor with a gentle thump.
You feel a hand at the back of your neck, then another cupping your cheek, and you're slowly guided back to your feet. Someone tells you to sit on the bed and you didn't even realize the three of you had made it to the bedroom, but you do as you're told and let them follow you. Denim pants and mismatched socks and black underwear litter the path from them to you until Layla's just in her shirt and Marc is in his boxers, and your mouth is watering at the sight of them.
Marc points to your bra and huffs. The magen david around his neck glimmers in a whisper of clock light. "Take it off." It's gone in an instant, and you take your underwear off as an afterthought, but you're too dizzy with want to think about removing your skirt. Doesn't matter though, not when he's looking at you like that.
The world is swimming as you shuffle yourself up to the head of the bed. Layla crawls up after you and you reach for her, mouth open and panting, desperate to feel her, to taste her. Your arms wrap around her thighs like its instinct and push her down on top of your face. She smells hot and salty, her hair is rough on your cheeks, but she tastes like heaven and she sounds even better. You steal a glance at her thrown back head, her wild curls, the movement of her breasts beneath her shirt and feel yourself clench. You're so wet that it's starting to trickle and smear onto your thighs.
Marc initially comes into view as just a hand on her throat, dark olive against her cool sandstone, but then you see him at her ear. She moans so loudly that you feel it reverberate into your mouth. The wetness of her cunt floods over your tongue and you grunt as your stomach twists again. You close your eyes; they're too beautiful to watch head on, too in love to witness for longer than a heartbeat.
Layla's skin is impossibly smooth. You can't keep your hands off her thighs, you can't stop wondering if she'll push herself inside you later and make you see stars. You want to keep your face between her thighs for the rest of your life. Her clit trembles and twitches under your tongue as she does the same above you, and you smile.
You can hear Marc mumbling something to her and it's too difficult to make it out over the sound of the bed rustling and Layla whimpering and your heart thundering in your ears, so you don't try. The bed dips down by your legs. You feel a knee between your calves and a hand on your thigh, and you start a little, but he's so warm and you're so eager for his touch that you melt for him anyway. Then your skirt is shucked up around your hips and his hands are burning paths up your thighs, to the creases in your legs, ghosting over the wet patches.
"Fuck," you hear him growl and then his finger comes between your lips. You choke on the moan you rumble into Layla's clit and arch up beneath her, and she shivers and laughs. Marc traces a finger in little circles just around the edge of your clit. Your hips are starting to buck, you feel unhinged and wild and parched, but he just laughs and drops his finger a little lower. It slips inside you with vulgar squelch as his other hand pins your hip to the bed to still you.
"Marc," you moan into Layla's heat, although it comes out muffled, and she moans back with a hand at her breast. His thumb rubs haphazard motions over your clit as he adds a second finger, thrusting and curling them so deftly that you know you're not going to last very long.
You nip at Layla's clit in response, work a hand out from under and around her thigh to move it over her breast. Her nipples are large and pebbled, and you want more than anything to take them into your mouth, but your thumb will do for now. You alternate between soft little strokes around the areola and firmer tugs and pinches on her nipple. You wish for a moment that you had double of everything so you could have them both in every way possible all at once.
Your name tumbles from her lips breathy and rough and strained as she bucks into you. "I... I'm close- fuck!.. Almost."
You flick you tongue across her clit a certain way and she makes a little oh! sound that almost makes you orgasm on the spot.
Marc grunts behind her as he starts thrusting harder and faster into you. "You got another one in you, babe?" Her curls bounce. Marc's mouth spells out the shape of your name and you whine in response. "You think you can cum twice for us, sweetheart?"
You pause for a moment. It sounds wonderful, but you're not sure you can manage it this time. You swallow some of Layla's wetness, savoring the taste as it goes, and finally shake your head. She translates for you and Marc's thrusting slows. His thumb fades from your clit, but he stays inside you still.
"Sit up," he instructs after a moment.
The alcohol swirls in your belly and you're confused until you realize that Layla is moving and you're getting pulled with her. Marc is moving her so that she's on her hands and knees, and she's bringing you along so you're sitting in front of her. She stretches her neck as far as she can to kiss you.
The sudden slapping of flesh on flesh draws you apart just as Layla jolts forward. You look over her shoulder to see Marc braced with a knee and a foot on the mattress, and he's inside her. His head falls back, his curls drifting across his face as his mouth breaks open and contorts in pleasure. He's beautiful. You look at Layla and she's beautiful too.
They take a moment to adjust to each other and it feels too private for you to be intruding upon, but it passes soon enough and then Marc is fucking into her slow and hard and steady. His fingers grip her waist hard enough to leave red and white marks on her lightly freckled skin. Then his eyes flicker and lock onto you, and your stomach erupts into butterflies.
"You gonna watch, sweetheart?"
You nod dumbly.
Marc grunts, his mouth caught in an almost smirk. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"
"Yeah," you somehow manage to say through the dumpsterfire of inebriation and sex that is your brain.
He wraps a fist in her hair and tilts her head back, her jaw slack and her eyes screwed shut. Her shirt hangs low enough that you can see the outline of her breasts as they jiggle in time with Marc's hips snapping against her. You reach a hand between your legs and shudder, but the look in Marc's eyes pins you in place.
"You wanna cum like that?" he asks. "Or do you wanna wait for me to bury my face between your thighs?"
Your back literally gives out. Your catch yourself and land on your elbows, but you're still reeling. All you can see is Marc pistoning into Layla like she's his only lifeline and all you can think about is Marc, almost-but-not-quite-Steven, lapping at your arousal until you scream. Your nails dig into the soft skin of your upper thighs, but you don't touch yourself. You watch and you wait, and you let your eyes drift shut every now and then so that Layla's choppy moans and Marc's needy grunts sink into the very deepest spot in your belly.
It's a beautiful eternity later when Layla finally cums, her voice raw as she yelps and strains against Marc's hands. He finishes soon after her, inside her, and keeps thrusting and thrusting until she collapses beneath him and he slips out with a pop.
They're both breathing heavy. The skin above Marc's heart is moving ever so slightly in time with the pulsing of the vein in his neck. He's sweaty and spent, and you feel something spark in your chest instead of your groin. Layla squirms on the mattress, her face twisted in pleasure, and the room smells like her sex and his sweat. Marc leans down and presses a kiss to her spine; she hums, and your heart aches because you miss Steven again, because he should be here with you.
Layla turns and rolls to the other side of the bed in a tangle of hair and sheets, and she splays her limbs out around her while she catches her breath. You expect Marc to maybe do the same and you think maybe you missed something, maybe the evening is already coming to a close, but then you feel the bed shift and you see him moving in the corner of your eye and you suddenly feel very shy.
You look up at him from under your lashes and the dark, brooding, sensual expression on his face seems to pause. He looks at you, then at the window above the bed, then back at you and suddenly everything is different. The deep lines in his forehead unfurrow and loosen, his eyebrows shoot up, and the corners of his mouth ghost along the idea of a smile.
The voice that sighs your name is English and tenor and familiar. "Steven!" you cry. Tears are tracing wet streaks down your face. It feels like there's been a war and a lifetime since you last saw him, even though he was there on the sands with you and Layla earlier, turning back time like a god.
He smiles, brilliant and sad, and takes your face in his hands to press a tender, toothy kiss to your lips. It hurts, but it's everything you've ever wanted. You pull him into you, let yourself fall back onto the bed, hook a leg over his hip and press him close enough so that everything from his chest to his groin is flush against you and you can feel his length rut and rub against you, blind and needy and so close.
There's so much you want to say, so much you shouldn't say but it'll drive you mad if you don't, so it comes out in jagged fragments. "Missed you," you breathe as he rocks himself against you. "Gone too long," you say as you card your fingers through his hair. "Fuck me," you beg with your nails in his back. "Love you," you croon when his hand fumbles between your legs and he half misses your clit. You think Layla pretends not hear or understand you.
She sits by your hip with a strange look on her face. She's enamored by Steven and the gentleness of his movements, wary of him but enticed, and her eyes water when they land on his face. You want to pretend not to see it, but you know that she knows that you know anyway. You stretch out a hand and smile when her fingers twine with yours. 'I understand,' you promise, and she nods.
"Steven." Her voice is like a wave in the dead of night, crashing over the both of you. His hips stutter to a halt and he looks over his shoulder at her with wide, uncertain eyes. "Have you done this before?" she asks.
His mouth tries to form words, but no real sounds come out other than an embarrassed "no". Layla smiles and places a hand on his elbow. "Let us show you?"
Steven nods, then freezes. He looks at you in a panic and he looks worried. "I-I mean-. I'm sorry, I didn't mean-. Only if you want!" he squeaks.
You nod. "Yes. I want you to. Both of you." You stroke a lock of hair back from his forehead with a lovestruck smile. "It's okay, Steven."
Layla leans forward so her hair falls over her shoulder and the scent of jasmine follows her as she moves. "Look between her legs," she prompts and Steven does it. He shifts back a little so your thighs are around his waist and he is sitting on his knees. His pupils are blown so wide they're nearly black.
"God, you're so wet," he gasps, and your entire face flushes with heat.
You instinctively move to close your legs, but Layla's hand shoots out and grabs your knee. She waits until you go still and runs her hand down the inside of your thigh to the patch of damp curls that has Steven so transfixed. Then she grabs hold of Steven's right hand and places her hand over it.
"You want to find her clit," she whispers into his ear. Their hands fall just out of sight and you can feel Steven's finger find it first, undoubtedly guided by Layla's touch. Your body jerks and your eyes roll back into your head, your back arches and your toes curl, and you almost swear you rocket off into another universe for a moment. Her voice rumbles deep in her throat. "That's how you know you found it."
"Oh," you moan. It's all you can manage.
"You're so soft," you hear Steven murmur, awestruck. His fingers are awkward and clumsy, but you can feel his adoration all the same. It's like being worshiped, you think. "Blimey."
"Figure out what she likes," Layla continues and you feel yourself grow wetter and wetter by the second. Her voice is rich and sultry, and there's humor twinkling in her smile. "Does she like it rough and fast? Or slower? Does she want you to draw it out of her?"
He's overwhelmed at first, but Steven's smart. You've always known that. He's a fast learner. He follows Layla's advice and he listens well, watching the way you arch and squirm beneath him when he twists his finger just so or dips it lower to gather more of your wetness before swirling it around your clit again. You watch his expression evolve from panicked arousal to a more confident, eager glimmer that makes you want to grab him by the hair and beg him to break you.
"You build her up until she's squirming, Steven, until she can't take it anymore." She considers you and smirks. It reminds you of Marc. "What d'you think? You think she's ready?"
Steven blinks. He looks a little more out of his league than he did a minute ago, but he still looks eager. He still looks like he wants to be buried between your legs, he's just unsure of how to get there. You decide to help him out a bit.
"I want you," you tell him. "Please."
"How?" he asks.
His fingers flick just right over your clit and your body erupts into shudders. "I-Inside," you stammer as your mouth suddenly stops communicating with your brain. Your eyes are opened, then closed, then half blinking as you rut against his and Layla's hands. "Please, Steven, baby, inside me. I need you inside me. I'm so- I need-."
"Say it," Layla demands as she presses down on Steven's fingers.
Your throat is suddenly dry and you're grinding against them like it's the only thing your brain was hardwired for. "I'm gonna cum, I'm so close. Please, I need you inside me!"
Then, Layla shifts and the light coming in through the blinds catches the movement of the muscles in her forearm and the ones in Steven's bicep as they move two joined fingers into your heat. Your muscles have been aching for ages and they finally clench around something solid, drawing your lovers in deeper and deeper, as far as they can go. Your orgasm is close, you can feel its pressure building up somewhere below your stomach and behind your clit, and you're so desperate for more of him, more of them, that you'll do anything at this point. Their fingers are curling into your g-spot so expertly that you know it'll be a miracle if you last another thirty seconds.
Your hands reach out for something solid and warm, and they land one on Layla's knee and the other on Steven's left hand where it's braced by your hip. You're grabbing and pinching and pulling, desperate to bite into flesh, to draw out the same pleasure they are inflicting on you, but they're too far out of reach.
"St-... Ste...ven," you croak between thrusts. His eyes dart up to meet yours and his tongue steals across his lips. Your stomach flip flops. "Need. You."
"More?" he asks, his brows furrowed in concentration. "D'you need more, love?"
"Need your... hands on me." Layla smirks again and when their fingers curl hard inside you, you know it's her. You wail and thrash and buck into them, and you're so, so close. "Now."
Steven leans forward as much as he can and the angle of his and Layla's fingers moves slightly. It feels alright. Layla's thumb brushes against your clit and you wail again. You're almost there, almost, if you can just feel him-.
"Where?" he whispers into your breasts, his tongue stealing a quick taste.
You sigh and arch into him, but it's rushed. "Here," you say as your hand reached for the base of your throat. "Please. Need you."
"I don't want t' hurt you," he starts, but his hand is already on you. He's cautious and there's no weight behind his grip. It's almost enough.
"You won't," you huff. "Promise. Just... squeeze."
He worries over it for a minute, chewing at his lip, but then he feels Layla slip another finger inside you and hears you mewl and watches you roll beneath him like he's dreamed of for so long and Marc is encouraging him from the sliver of window above the bed, so he squeezes like he does when he touches himself thinking of you and you burst like a dam. You yell so loudly that he's sure the people two streets over can hear you. You gush around him and Layla like a river, warm and wet and heady. His cock twitches and his heart races so fast that he wonders if it'll stop.
"Fuuuuuuuck!" You can't stop. Your legs are trembling and your cunt is clenching and you can't see anything. The bed is squeaking and they keep curling and thrusting inside you, and it's awful and intoxicating and it hurts and you love it. You never want this to end. And for a while, it doesn't, even as you're overstimulated and shaking bad enough to make your teeth chatter. Still they work at you, pull as much pleasure from your body as they can until there's nothing left of you but muted bliss.
It's all a blur as Steven checks on you to make sure you're alright. He and Layla have pulled out already, and everything is damp, but it's nice all the same. Steven watches transfixed as Layla works her way up the bed and offers you her fingers coated in your pleasure. You let her press them against your tongue and suck them clean. Steven looks like he's about to implode. Layla fixes him with a knowing look and grins.
"Want a taste, Steven?" she asks sweetly. You almost have a mind to make a joke about it being the fruit of his labors, but you figure his mind is already reeling from his first threesome.
When Steven nods, Layla runs a hand down your mons pubis and slips a finger between your lips, and your spine tingles when he takes her fingers into his mouth, careful and determined to find you in every crevice of her skin. You watch the muscles in his jaw flex and tense and strain, and you hazily think that next time, if there can even be a next time, he ought to frame his face between your legs until you forget your own name.
For now, though, you're happy. As happy as you can be, all things considered. Eventually, the aftershocks and hypersensitivity fade, Layla retrieves her underwear and Steven finds his boxers and your shirt, and you take turns cleaning each other up. You fall asleep with your head on Steven's shoulder and Layla pressed up against your back. The moon rises over the nearby skyscrapers.
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multific · 1 year
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New Purpose
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Hvitserk x Reader
Summary: After losing Ivar, he was lost. He wished to die but couldn't. He promised Ivar he will live, but how can anyone call this a life?
Hvitserk drowned another cup before standing, as he did, he nearly fell over. 
He was way too drunk. He shouldn't have drank so much but he needed something to numb the pain, something to make him feel other than grief.
He should have died not Ivar, he should have been the one for Odin to take. And yet, Hvitserk was here and Ivar was gone.
As he got out of the pub, he started walking, no particular place in mind, he just walked.
Then three men stopped before him.
You were on your way home, you really shouldn't be out so late all alone. But you lost track of time.
On your way back to your home, you tried to avoid people as best as you could. Turning one corner you noticed four men, you hid behind the fence, trying to think of a way to escape.
"Are you a damn Viking or what?! FIGHT!" one yelled, this is when you noticed it wasn't four men, well technically it was but, it was a three against one. One very drunk. 
You heard a couple punches being thrown then a loud groan before footsteps left. You looked back, you saw a man on the floor while the others walked away.
You wanted to get up and leave, run home and never come back into town again, you could do that.
But you had to have a heart...fuck.
You slowly walked over to the man, noticing the blood on the floor.
"Sir?" you asked but no reply. You could see he was breathing. You looked around, no one was there to help. He let out a groan as you kneeled beside him. "Can you stand?" 
It was quite a struggle to get him to your home. It was further from the village as you prefer to have your own privacy, slowly but surely he managed to wobble back to your place, while leaning against you.
He was reeking of alcohol, his arm was bleeding where he got cut and he threw up twice on his way to your place.
You patched up his arm and soon he was in your bed, sleeping.
At the time, you had no idea what you just got yourself into.
---
The next morning, when you woke up, you immediately started on some bread.
Kneading it before letting it rest and rise. As you turned you saw the man who you brought home standing by your table.
"I don't remember laying you. But I'm not complaining." he smirked and you nearly gagged.
"We did not do such a thing. You got your drunk ass kicked and I brought you here. You were laying in your own blood and mud." you said pointing at his wounds which you patched up.
"I thought you were just rough with me." the smirk again. But this time you said nothing. Instead, put some bread on the table and a small vile. 
"Put this ointment on your wound twice a day. Or don't and watch as it gets infected and kills you."
"Harsh lady, you are. But thank you for your help. I shall take my leave." he grabbed the food and the small vile from your table before heading to the door. "Hvitserk Ragnarsson. My name, if you ever need help." and with that, he left.
You weren't sure why you would ever need his help. If anything he would need yours. 
You rolled your eyes and headed to your garden.
Slowly forgetting about him as the days and weeks passed.
One day, he turned up out of nowhere.
"I didn't know where to go." he said as he stumbled into your home. "My leg." he said as he sat down in one of your chairs, you started to lift his pants when you saw a huge gash oozing blood. 
"I will need to stop the bleeding. Don't move." you rushed to get your herbs and medicine before returning. "I'll have to close the wound, it will hurt. Take this." you gave him a vile to drink and he did. You let a couple of minutes pass before grabbing a needle.
---
Hvitserk was now asleep in your bed. 
Once again.
You wondered what had happened to him to get such a nasty injury. 
You hoped he would heal well. 
You cleaned up everything around the house, washed the floors and started to prepare some soup.
You had no idea why you acted like his little wife, and yet here you were.
Damn you and your kind heart. 
And yet you helped him, you fed him and when his fever got high, you were there.
Slowly his wound began to heal.
But you noticed a change in yourself.
You noticed that you longed for his company, that you really enjoyed talking with him and hearing him laugh. You adored his smile and you realized you would do anything to keep him smiling.
It was a dangerous feeling.
But it was so good.
His leg was healing nicely.
Damn you and your natural talent to cure people.
His leg was healing which meant he will soon go.
And you knew, you had to let him go.
There was no reason for him to stay. You were silly to think the smiles he gave you were more than a friendly smile. You were silly to imagine a life with him.
You knew this.
And yet, you couldn't help your heart.
You couldn't help it when your heart skipped a beat every time he laughed. You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if he stayed with you.
But Vikings weren't like that. They lived for the thrill, for the raids, you couldn't hope he would give that all up just for you.
It was a silly dream.
And yet, every night you went to sleep thinking about it.
You felt silly. But you couldn't help your heart. 
Or your drunken mind.
He opened the bottle, he poured you all the glasses, and now here you were, tipsy and way too honest.
"I know you are going to leave in a couple days. I have been expecting it every day."
"What do you mean?" he replied, a little tipsy but not as much as you.
"You, Hvitserk are as blind as a bat. I care so deeply for you and yet... you do not belong to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about how you just waltzed in and stole my heart! So unfair! I can't be in love with someone who is going to leave me! I can't get my heart broken like that! It is so unfair. And yet, every morning, when I wake up, I fear you would be gone, so I always check if you are still here first before moving to make breakfast. Every. Fucking. Morning. The one time you weren't in bed, I nearly fainted but you were already in the kitchen yourself."
"Waltzed in? Love me? Don't be silly, Y/N, no woman loves me."
"You blind bat. How can you not see that I care so deeply for you? Women in the market say to catch a man try through their heart, so I did.  I cook or bake for you anything you say! I healed your leg, I healed your wounds. I am so hopeless. I know I will get my heart broken and yet, I can't help but hope." you didn't even feel the tears running down your face. "I hope you would feel the same towards me, that you would stay and... love me."
"Y/N..."
"I heard it many times before. 'I only see you as a friend', 'I only see you as a sister' or 'I am sorry if I give you the wrong idea' there is always a 'but'. 'I care for you Y/N, BUT' I have been rejected many times before. I hoped you would be different. You are a Viking, you are very different. But I'm prepared for your leave. I bought a bottle of wine, it is in my room, waiting for me to open it so I can cry myself to sleep and get over you."
"Y/N, I thought my intentions were clear." you looked up at him, confused. "Where I'm from, we court women by giving them gifts. After you healed me first I couldn't stop thinking about you, then I got into that fight and I ran to you for help. I knew my feelings were real, I just told myself yours weren't. I gifted you many things to court you. The fur on your bed? I killed and skinned the animal myself, made it into a gift for you. I got you cheese, I got you a new jewellery box and your necklace. What did you think they were?"
"Gifts... for the food I gave you? For the healing and for my help?"
"Not exactly. I meant to win you over. I have deep feelings for you as well." you looked into his eyes, sitting across from him you reached for your cup and took a swing, emptying it. 
Then, you did something Hvitserk would never expect from you.
You laughed.
You laughed so hard you actually started to cry.
"Oh wow, that now that was something else. Where's the but? There is always a but as I said so go on!"
"No buts."
"Oh please, Hvitserk come on! I help, 'I have deep feelings for you as well, but... I have to leave because we are too different?" he shook his head, no.
"Alright, then how about I have deep feelings for you as well, but... you are not the kind of woman I see myself with." he shook his head again, no.
"I have deep feelings for you as well, but...-"
"There is no but. I'm just as afraid of your rejection as you are of mine."
You sat there for a moment, suddenly the alcohol leaving your brain as you processed what just happened.
"So, you won't leave?"
"My leg healed weeks ago and yet I'm here. I was waiting for you to throw me out."
"You want to stay?"
"I wish to know more about this feeling I have inside. This love I heard so much about but never experienced until I met you. I wish to learn about it with you."
"You want me?"
"I want you more than anything and anyone. I want everything and anything you are willing to give me. If that's your clever mind or your gorgeous body, it is up to you. Do you want me to stay?"
"More than anything. I used to be so lonely, even with my animals."
"Do you want me?"
"Of course, I do. I want all of you Hvitserk." 
"Can I kiss you?"
"Please." it came out a lot more desperate than you meant it to. 
Both of you stood up way to fast as you stumbled to catch the other and your lips met in a sloppy, messy kiss.
Once the kiss was over, he didn't let go of you.
He would never let go of you after.
Hvitserk didn't fully give up the Viking life. He would go on to teach his children about it, he would also not forget his brothers or the things they have been through. 
But above it all, Hvitserk would never forget about the kind woman who gave him shelter when he was most vulnerable. The woman who gave his life a new purpose and reason to keep going.
He would never forget about you, who gave his life a new purpose.
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Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS
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forever-fixating · 1 month
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Some Sentences Monday?
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Tagged by the ever-awesome @priincebutt
Okay, so I know this is meant for Sundays, but ya boi was destroyed from work and completely overstimulated so I had nothing in the tank. But after hibernating most of today, I am emerging ready to share a new project I have in the works. Getting such amazing response for Love on the Menu has really invigorated my desire to work, and now my mind is running with ideas. I've been toying with the idea of writing a historical AU for a while now, so allow me to introduce:
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I don't have an official summary for it yet, but to overhype myself, this story has everything: childhood sweethearts separated by tragedy, rivaling nations full of political intrigue, magick because I've been dying to write a fantasy AU as well so por que no los dos, a tournament where the grand prize of the joust is the hand in marriage of our sweet Henry, a cliffhanger that I am so excited to write but that I know will enrage everyone that reads it...get ready, yall!
Below the cut is a massively long teaser. Forgive the roughness of it. I am just so geeked to share it, but just know I'll be working on it until it's ready. Enjoy! (If you'd like a soundtrack for this, might I suggest Surrender by Natalie Taylor?)
The air was perfumed with the scent of springtime blossoms. Beneath the shade of a great willow tree were two young lovers. One was flaxen-haired, his ivory skin rosy from the sun and littered with constellations of freckles. His body and limbs were slender and knobbly, still in that awkward phase between boy and man. His light blue eyes studied his companion with unguarded adoration. The other young man was shorter in stature, but rigorous exercise had already defined his physique. Atop his head was an untamed mass of sable curls, still wet from swimming. His unblemished skin gleamed a rich russet shade that his fairer companion couldn't stop touching. The pair had completed their lessons for the day and decided to take a refreshing dip in the lake near their school. They were naked, hidden among the willow branches, like two woodland nymphs from a fable and not two princes from separate nations. The dark-haired boy Alex lifted his lover Henry's hand and kissed the signet ring on his pinkie finger. The ring's face held not a family crest but their initials. A promise.
"When we are married-"
"You mustn't say such things!" Henry laughed even as his stomach fluttered at the very prospect. "It isn't proper."
Alex leaned down to press a kiss against rose-petal lips. "A man must state his intentions plainly, and mine are to marry you, cariño."
"You are not yet seventeen, cariad," Henry said as Alex trailed kisses along his jaw and neck. In this sacred space, it was easy to get lost in the rose-tinted fantasy of their future together. He tangled his fingers in Alex's curls, tugging at the roots. "Our parents would say it is unwise to speak of such things at our age."
"Why," Alex hissed as he climbed over Henry's body, "are you mentioning our parents when I am trying to ravish you?"
Henry arched his body into that of his beloved, gasping, "You have ravished me twice already this afternoon. Is that not enough?"
"Never."
As the twin suns began their steady descents into the horizons, the young lovers got dressed and made their way back to the school. Fireflies glowed in hues of pink, orange, and yellow as the pair discussed their plans for the following day. Given their disheveled states of dress, they were wary of running into Headmistress Beaufort or one of their professors as they made their way back to their dormitory. Unfortunately, fate was not on their side, and they rounded a corner and nearly crashed into Professor Wagner. He was a squat toad of a man who taught history and hated Alex for his frequent interruptions during lessons. His face held a perpetual bitter expression, as though he had just sucked on an unripen lemon. He berated them for looking and acting beneath their station and gave them detention for the following fortnight working in the stables with Gerald the groundskeeper. (It wasn't the punishment the man thought it was. They enjoyed Gerald's company, especially when he was joined by Julian, the music professor. Henry was convinced they were in love, but Alex said he was delusional.)
They scrambled upstairs to their shared dorm room to change. Dinner was already in progress when they joined their social set in the dining hall. Alex's older sister June was discussing a novel with Henry's twin sister Beatrice while their best friends Percy and Nora played cards. As Henry took his spot between Bea and Pez, his sister poked at the poorly concealed love mark Alex had gifted him earlier and teased, "My dear brother, it would appear you have been mauled by pixies. Should we alert Gerald of a possible infestation?"
Alex, seated across from him between June and Nora, snorted into his goblet, and Henry kicked his skin beneath the table. Giving his sister a tight smile that told her he knew exactly at what she was playing, he said defensively, "It was only a single, annoying pixie. Hardly cause for alarm."
"Annoying?" Henry's stomach filled with regret the moment the words left his mouth at Alex's fallen expression. He looked away from Henry. "Perhaps the pixie will direct their attention elsewhere if they are such a nuisance."
Alex would not meet his eye for the remainder of the meal. Once Headmistress Beaufort dismissed the students for the evening, Alex was up like a shot. Henry felt the disapproval of their friends and loved ones as he stood and trailed after Alex like a lovesick puppy. When Henry reached the common room of their dormitory, he found Alex chatting with Liam, the son of a nobleman from his home country. While he knew there was no danger of them forming an attachment, jealousy sparked in his chest, hot and ugly. He strode over to them and said, "Alex, I wish to speak with you."
Alex's expression was that of cool indifference. "Yes?"
Ignoring Liam and tugging on Alex's arm, Henry insisted, "In private."
Alex rolled his eyes but stood, shoving past Henry to their dorm room. Henry didn't look at Liam but hurried after Alex. He passed some of their classmates roughhousing in the hallway. Alex's ire was quick to be provoked, but Henry hoped he could dampen it with gentle words of apology and a gift. Their dorm room was on the far end of the hallway to the right. When Henry entered, Alex was sitting on the window seal. Henry closed the door.
"Cariad-"
"You would be wise not to call me that right now," Alex snapped, not looking at him.
Henry bit his bottom lip. Pushing away from the door, he crossed the cross to retrieve a parcel he received earlier that day from his bedside table. Though he protested Alex's pure words down by the lake, Henry's heart ached at the very thought that Alex thought himself alone in this affection. Henry was naturally cautious when it came to matters of the heart. While his parents had a romance for the bards to write neverending songs about and supported his inclinations, his grandmother Queen Mary still held final sway over who her grandchildren would marry. While Alex's country was a rising power, full of untapped resources and potential, Mary looked down her nose at their progressive politics and rising status among the nations. But despite the perceived impossibility of their future together, Henry found himself desperately in love with Alex all the time.
Henry knelt in front of his wounded lover and placed the parcel in his lap. Alex finally looked at him before glancing down and asking, "What is this?"
"An apology and response."
Alex picked it up and tore away the plain brown paper. Revealed was a red velvet bag. Henry's heart raced as Alex opened the bag and pulled out a small golden key on a silver chain. The bow of the key, intertwined in delicate filigree, was their initials, much like the ring that rested on Henry's hand.
As Alex studied it, Henry said, "My words earlier were foolish and hurtful. The truth is that I am afraid of the end of term. Things as they are now seem too perfect and golden. I...I fear once we are parted, reality will make you realize I am not worthy, that you will find someone more suitable for-"
"You believe me to be easily swayed?" Alex snapped. Henry looked up to see frustration and sadness in his eyes. He reached down to yank Henry's hand that held the signet ring to eye level. "Is this not proof enough of my love for you? Is it not enough that I say I love you? If this is an apology, it is a very poor one, Henry."
Henry climbed on the window seal with Alex, desperate to be understood, tears in his eyes. "It is an explanation. I am scared, Alex. I know we are young, but I know in my heart I will never feel for another what I feel for you. But when my grandmother finds out about us, she will stop at nothing to keep us apart. Does that challenge not give you pause?"
"Cariño," Alex whispered, cupping Henry's face, the necklace dangling from his fingers, "I would slay a thousand dragons, cross the Great Salt Desert, and brave the bitterest frozen peaks if that's what it took to make you mine. You may fear your grandmother, but I do not. There is no one else for me but you."
Henry took the chain from Alex's hand and placed it around his neck. Pressing his hand over the key, Henry said, "As you are for me. I want to be brave like you. I want you to know you are not alone. This key is a symbolic gesture, the key to my heart. My promise to be true."
Two young lovers, bathed in moonlight and their love for one another, making a vow as true as the gods had ever heard. Perhaps it was their youth that gave them pause, or the sincerity in which the vows were given. Whatever it was, the gods took note and, in their mercurial way, decided to put that devotion to the test.
The skies were clear that night as Alex and Henry clung to each other, but they could not see the storm brewing on the distant horizon. A challenge.
Tagging @dragonflylady77 @onthewaytosomewhere @theplayfulfairy and anyone else who scribbles and is interested.
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gone-batty-fics · 1 year
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All or Nothing (Jason Todd x GN!Reader)
Jason Todd x GN! Reader 
Inspired by All or Nothing by Theory of a Deadman 
Genre: Angst/fluff
Rating: PG-13 
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 682
Part 1
A/N - The conclusion to last week's angsty mess! Thank you once again to @problem-bat and my cousin for proofreading for me!
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Three days. No word. The only reason that he even knows that you’re okay is that Cass and Dick have been keeping him posted. Jason knows that you need your space after his loss of temper, but it feels as though the past three days had been the longest, grayest, and stormiest days in Gotham history. Three days of lying in bed, his eyes puffy, throat raw, tangled in the covers that thankfully still smell like you, clinging to a picture of the two of you at the amusement park last month. His arm wrapped tightly around you, your lips meeting above the ridiculously sized stuffed lion squished between the two of you. He’d tried snuggling that same stuffed lion, but it wasn’t the same as holding you in his arms, where he could listen to you mumble in your sleep, press kisses to your soft skin, and if he was lucky, wake to you in a mood that left scratches down his back and clothes thrown across the room. 
When the sun comes up, marking day four, he resolves to do everything he can to attempt to fix things. Once he’s washed away the tears and grime, he makes his way to Cass’s apartment, stopping only to buy your favorite flowers and croissants from your favorite bakery. When he knocks, he half expects to be turned away, yet Cass lets him in. 
The first thing he notices, as you stare at the tv, is the silvery streaks of tears down your cheeks. It takes all of his willpower not to pull you into his arms and smother you with kisses. Instead, he places his offerings on the table before approaching slowly, making sure you see him.
“Jay,” you whisper, questioningly, almost as though trying to confirm that he’s really there. 
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he replies, offering a soft smile, though struggling not to cry at the sight of your tears. “Jus’ wanted to see you. I know I gave you a scare the other night, and for that, ’m sorry. I swear, sweetheart, I-”
Before he can continue, you throw yourself into his arms, nearly knocking him off balance. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you tight, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head as you sob into his broad chest. The tears fall freely down his own face as you shake in his arms, his turquoise eyes drinking the sight of you in. 
Once your tears are calmed into hiccups, he tilts your head up gently, so he can look in your eyes as he chokes out, “I shouldn’t have lost my shit, sweetheart. ’m not going to force you to come home, or try to make you forgive me. I just needed to know that you’re okay. I can’t undo it. I can’t promise that I’ll never get mad again. But I can promise that I love you far too much to scare you like that again.
“If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you. Anything to know that I can wake up with you in my arms, risk making you late for work every morning, make dinner every night, kiss you before patrols, and come home to your warmth. These past few days have been the worst days of my second life. The bed doesn’t smell as much like you and miss hearing ‘bout your day over dinner. I wanna scare Clark when he’s at the manor because you kissed me and he thinks I might go into cardiac arrest. Why? Because I can’t just be normal when you look cute as all hell and you somehow feel that I’m worth your love. Because you’ve shown me that me coming back wasn’t a mistake, it was so that I could love you, kiss you, and smile with you. I-”
“Jay,” you mutter, teary eyed. “Just kiss me already. You had me at the first ‘sweetheart.’”
You didn’t have to tell him twice. He kissed you like there was no tomorrow, happy to let the rest of the world disappear. 
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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years
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Enamored Extra Scene 3
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This whole night didn’t even feel real.
The opera house was lit up in its all glory, yet it didn’t make Anthony feel anything other than the sinking regret at the pit of his stomach. The fresh air did nothing to help the haze of alcohol muddying up his mind after Benedict pushed him to a bench so that he could sit down. He rested his elbows on his knees, bouncing his leg while Benedict heaved a sigh, then offered him a cigarette.
Anthony eyed the cigarette wearily, wiped the blood off his mouth–a gift from Elias, not that he hadn’t deserved it-, then put the cigarette between his lips, and let Benedict light it.
“Are you alright?”
Anthony scoffed a bitter chuckle as he took a drag, then exhaled the smoke while Simon approached them, no doubt having assured the rest of the family back in the opera house that nothing was wrong.
If only.
“Well hello Icarus,” Simon said with a small smile, “How did it feel to fly so close to the sun? Did you enjoy it?”
Benedict grinned. “Burned thoroughly, if I do say so myself.”
“God, I hate both of you,” Anthony grumbled and Simon sat beside him, clasping his shoulder.
“It gets better.”
“It won’t,” Anthony muttered, wiping at the blood again. “Elias will never forgive me, and I’ve lost the woman I…” he stopped himself, taking the cigarette to his lips again and Benedict tilted his head.
“The woman you what?”
“Leave me be, Benedict.”
“No no,” Benedict said, “You are drunk in public—”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Yes you are. I’ve seen you lose control twice in these last two days, you were nearly begging her to listen to you even after Elias attacked you and I’ve never seen you beg anyone before let alone a lady—”
“What’s the purpose of this summary, exactly?”
“The purpose is that you hear this out loud because it sounds almost like…” Benedict hummed. “What does it sound like, Simon?”
“The consequences of him talking big and tempting fate.”
“No, the other thing.”
“Oh it sounds like love,” Simon pointed out. “You’re in love.”
“Isn’t it time you two went back inside?”
“Isn’t it time you actually were honest with yourself?” Simon asked and Anthony let the ash from the cigarette fall to the ground, keeping his eyes on it in complete silence.
Simon cleared his throat. “Anthony...”
“I was right.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I was right,” Anthony said, his voice barely sounding like it belonged to him. “I was right to stay away from this, before everything. I haven’t been myself since she walked into my life.”
“It’s love.”
“It’s torture, Simon.” Anthony muttered. “That’s what it is. It’s torture.”
Benedict stole a look at him. “How did you mess up this bad, exactly?”
Anthony shook his head. “Allard was there.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“He was in the Avon Box. Elias said it would be family only, a way to announce the engagement before it hit the papers tomorrow.”
Simon blinked a couple of times. “So?”
“He was in the box on a night that was supposed to be family only and if he was there, I thought it meant… that it meant she accepted his courtship, and when Benedict and Eloise showed up and Benedict you were telling her how Allard implied he would propose—”
“Did I say anything that implied she would say yes?” Benedict cut him off. “He was just talking nonsense, she didn’t even hear it and what? You decided to take it as your sign to go after your mistress?”
“She’s not my mistress.”
“Former mistress, as if it makes any difference.”
Anthony exhaled the smoke before stubbing the cigarette and standing up, “I must go to the Avon House—”
“Oh no, you’re not doing that tonight Romeo,” Simon pushed him back to the bench and Benedict nodded fervently.
“I don’t want to become the Viscount or the head of the family, so stay where you are and sober up.”
Anthony ran a hand over his face. “I need to go, I need to explain myself—”
“Anthony, give her some solitude,” Simon said. “You owe her and Elias that. Everyone who’s involved in this needs some peace of mind tonight, we will come up with something tomorrow.”
Anthony pressed his lips together, then shook his head again.
“No amount of solitude will grant me her forgiveness,” he managed to say, “Tonight, or tomorrow, or ever.”
                                                       *
The rest of the night was a blur. Anthony was barely aware of anything, it was as if his body moved and his mouth talked without him paying any attention to it. His mother had questions, he could see that, but as soon as they reached home he shut himself in his study, desperate to be alone.
It proved to be the wrong choice, but he wasn’t sure if there was any right choice after tonight. The sight of her crying by the Avon box shot through his mind, making him close his bloodshot eyes, digging the heels of his palms into them before he reached for the glass of bourbon, then downed it in one go to fill another one.
Even that didn’t help.
He was so lost in his thoughts that it was only when the butler announced Elias’s arrival he was pulled out of the haze he was in, his head shooting up. He jumped on his feet when the door of the study opened and Elias stepped in.
It was almost ironic, how opposite they were for siblings. Both their anger was visible, but in completely different ways, Elias would always go cold and distant whereas she—
Spitfire, that one.
Anthony tried to focus through the haze of pain at his chest and took a deep breath. “Is she alright?”
“Are you trying to get punched again?” Elias asked back and walked to the cabinet to fill himself a glass of drink just like he had multiple times when he was there but—
It was different this time, even an outsider could see that.
“My betrothed convinced me that challenging you to a duel would get in the way of my wedding,” he said after a beat, then sat down. “Therefore, you and I will just talk. No promises on punching though, that’s still on the table.”
Anthony shrugged his shoulders, unable to humor him.
“Had it coming the first time anyway.”
Elias raised his brows and swirled the drink in his glass, watching ice pieces hit each other.
“So,” he said. “How long?”
“Elias—”
“How long has this been going on?” Elias cut him off and Anthony licked his lips.
“Just over a month,” he murmured. “Since the dinner party here.”
Elias’s grip tightened around the glass and he clicked his tongue.
“You’ve been pursuing my sister for over a month behind my back,” he repeated. “Alright.”
A painful smile pulled at Anthony’s lips. “I didn’t plan this.”
“No?”
“Do you think I’m unaware of the fact that I don’t deserve her?”
Elias scoffed and gritted his teeth. “I’m going to need you to think really hard before you answer the next question,” he said. “Did anything happen?”
Anthony’s brows pulled into a frown. “Are you seriously asking—”
“Yes I’m seriously asking that.”
Anthony shook his head. “There has been… unchaperoned moments but what you’re insinuating didn’t happen. I would never dishonor her, you know that.”
“I don’t know shit, as tonight proved,” Elias pointed out. “God, I really want to punch you again.”
“Go ahead,��� Anthony scoffed. “If it’s going to make you feel better. In all honesty, I think it’d make me feel better.”
“Great reason not to do it then,” Elias said. “And tonight?”
“I ruined everything.”
“Oh I know that, I’m just asking what exactly happened.”
“We…we had an argument yesterday, she walked away very angry, she said she never wanted to see me again” Anthony muttered. “I didn’t get to talk to her today and then I saw Pierre in the Avon box, and you said it yourself, it was supposed to be family only, and apparently he was talking of marriage, Benedict and Eloise were talking about it and I… assumed she accepted his courtship officially and that it was a way to announce it alongside you, and I made the worst decision possible.”
Elias frowned. “What?” he asked. “Another argument?”
“She saw me with Siena.”
Elias stared at him, his mouth slightly agape and a humorless laugh escaped from his lips. “Jesus Christ.”
“I let jealousy lead my actions, I thought—I don’t know, the thought of her marrying anyone else was so unbearable that I looked for solace in…” A bitter taste appeared in his throat. “It’s not an excuse, it’s an explanation.”
“Mm hm, a terrible one at that. You went to your mistress because you were jealous.”
“I ended everything with Siena two months ago,” he said. “It didn’t feel right. Even when I was with her, I couldn’t think of anything but—”
“I’m going to stop you right there before my sister’s name leaves your mouth.” Elias snapped and Anthony downed his drink, then filled it again.
“It’s the truth.”
Elias pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.
“I told you not to do this,” he said. “I told you not to drag her into these goddamn games of yours, way before she got here.”
Anthony’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know why everyone thinks the same but it’s not a game for me.”
“Oh spare me—”
The words left his lips way too easily, almost as if he couldn’t contain them any longer, as if they had been waiting for the momentary weakness to slip away.
“Eli, I love her.”
That seemed to make Elias stop mid-rant and he gawked at him as Anthony swallowed thickly.
“I tried not to,” he rasped out. “I tried everything, I swear to you. I’ve done nothing but try to stop this since…since I realized it but nothing seems to work, not when it comes to her. I love her.”
Elias let out a breath in disbelief before tilting his glass in his direction.
“Fuck your love, Anthony.”
Anthony took a deep breath. “I understand that you’re—”
“No no, it’s obvious that you don’t understand anything so let me enlighten you. Do you know what’s happening right now?” Elias’s tone was laced with fury. “Back at my house? My little sister is sobbing in her bed, saying she wants to go home because she’s too heartbroken to stay here.”
Elias should’ve just punched him.
It would’ve been way less painful.
A fire spread through his throat but he kept quiet, looking down at the glass.
“That’s your love?” Elias asked him. “Because I’m in love with Cecily and the thought of going to another woman would never cross my mind, no matter how jealous I was. You’ve spent so long running away from love that you forgot what it was, because this? This is not love.”
Anthony tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I need to see her.”
“Right, that’s not happening.”
“You can’t stop me, I’m going to talk to her—”
“Over my dead body. Or yours.”
“I don’t care how many times you punch me, I’m going to fix this,” he insisted and Elias let out a humorless chuckle.
“Oh you’re going to fix this?” he repeated. “That girl worships love above anything else, you let her believe she had it before pulling the rug out from under her, and you think you can fix this?”
Anthony ran his fingers through his hair, heaving a shaky sigh.
“You’ve never been naïve in matters of heart,” Elias pointed out. “Don’t start now.”
A silence fell upon the room and Anthony rubbed at his forehead as if it could help with the blinding headache.
“You know…” Elias trailed off after a couple of seconds. “She took after my mother. Father says so. Not just looks, but her personality as well.”
Anthony pulled his brows together, barely aware that he was twisting the ring around his finger the way she always would when she was with him.
“My mother never forgave my father,” Elias said. “Ever. Forgiving betrayal of her trust is not in her blood, and I’m telling you this so that you can actually understand. There’s no fixing this. She will not forgive you, and you need to acknowledge this and move on—”
“I can’t,” Anthony cut him off and shook his head, then shot him a painful smile. “There’s no moving on, Eli. It’s either her or no one for me.”
A dark chuckle vibrated in Elias’s chest as he downed his drink, then stood up.
“You will have to enjoy your life in solitude then,” he said and walked to the door, then turned around.
“By the way, right before I came here she asked me if heartbreak could kill someone because apparently it feels like she is dying. That’s the price she pays for your love.” He eyed him up and down. “I hope you sleep well tonight.”
With that, he walked out of the study slammed the door behind him, leaving Anthony completely frozen.
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meraki24601 · 5 months
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Thief Version 2
Whumptober day 24. Remember how I said there was a second version of Thief? Yeah, this is it. This time the prompt is neglect. The set up here is the same, but the rest is different.
-----------*-***-*-----------
Villain glared at the security camera footage. They had watched the hooded figure steal from their store over and over again. Something about them was so familiar. The way they held themselves was drenched in shame, but the determined set of their shoulders struck Villain in a way that held them captive to the screen. 
Beyond the familiarity of the thief, Villain was shocked at the skill with which they stole from the decently guarded store. Villain had opened three stores in town, and the one the thief had chosen was the oldest and least protected. They had taken advantage of every blind spot. There were only about ten seconds of footage of the person. They walked into an aisle and left with arms full of water, crackers, dog food, and a blanket.
The obvious answer was a homeless person trying to survive. That’s what the stolen items suggested. Yet, they had moved so efficiently and skillfully. It seemed almost as if they knew where the cameras were. Their face stayed hidden the entire time.
A phone call startled Villain from their thoughts. The manager assisting Villain with the footage answered, their eyes widening in shock. “The thief is back.” Villain was out the door before the manager had finished talking.
They found the Thief sneaking out of the pet aisle, arms wrapped tightly around a dog bed and a gallon of water. Villain watched as they moved through the store, taking notes of where they dodged out of sight of the cameras. Much to Villain’s surprise, the thief moved through the store quickly despite the limp that seemed even worse. Once again struck by the familiarity of the figure in front of them, Villain followed the figure out of the store and grabbed their arm before they could run as they had before. 
“You chose the wrong store.” Villain tightened their grip on the thief’s arm and dragged them around the side of the building. The hooded figure dropped the supplies in their arms to tear at Villain’s hand. The small gasps and whimpers seeping from the hood as their bad leg gave out made Villain flinch. They had heard that sound before. They knew who it was they held. 
“So the hero has become the thief.” Villain gripped the hood covering Hero’s face and ripped it back so hard it started to tear off the jacket. “Do you know what would happen if word got out you were stealing?”
“Let me go.” Hero’s voice was broken. Their words were strong, but they sounded so defeated. Villain had never seen them so low.
“You claim to be so righteous. You fight against me and my team, but when all is said and done, you’re just like the rest of us.” Villain slammed Hero against the wall of the building. Their hand held them in place at the base of Hero’s throat. “How can you live with yourself? You’ve killed people for doing what you’ve just done. Twice! You’re lower than I could have ever imagined. Pathetic.”
“Let me go.” A tear fell onto Villain’s hand.
“Look at you. You can’t even walk right, can you?” Villain’s lip curled as they pressed harder.
This time, Hero pushed them back. “Because you threw me out a window! I lost everything because of you. Are you happy now? You won, and everyone turned against me. So many people died. First, the Hero Agency refused to give me medical care, then the other heroes threw me out of my home, and now the media has turned against me. I’ll never be able to find a job again. All I have left is my dog, and he’s dying because he was attacked by a pack of street dogs trying to kill me while I slept in an alley.” The fight left Hero’s body, and they collapsed into Villain’s arms. “You win, Villain. I have nothing left. You win.”
Villain nearly fell under the sudden weight. They had heard through the underground that Hero was on a losing streak, but they never suspected it would be this bad. Once they gathered themselves they realized Hero didn’t weigh nearly as much as they used to. The window incident had been nearly a week ago and they hadn’t been this light then. Though, now that Villain thought about it, they had been able to throw their nemesis surprisingly easily. “So you are homeless.” 
“No one wants a hero who can’t save people.” Hero’s tears soaked through the collar of Villain’s shirt. “It was over the moment your bomb went off.” 
Bomb? Villain hadn’t been involved with any incidents involving a bombing for nearly two months. They had uncovered new evidence against the Hero Agency, revealing they had been working with terrorists. They brought in bombers and bad guys to cause problems that the heroes at the agency would then “solve.” Of course, once Villain started working on a plan to reveal the information, a traitor gave them all away. The next day, Villain’s apartment building had been bombed. Hero had attacked them on the roof’s garden, and Villain fought them to keep them away from their base. If they had known about the bombs when Hero first attacked…
“They said I was working with you.” Hero swayed in Villain’s arms, pushing themselves up to look Villain in the eyes, “They said our battles weren’t real. That I was a traitor. When they revealed my identity, I thought you were going to kill me.”
“Hero, they revealed your identity?” How had they not known about this? Sure, they were bad at keeping track of the news, but their sidekicks generally kept them up to date. Villain’s head whipped up, searching the alley and the roofs of the surrounding buildings. If other villains knew who Hero was, they would be hunting them down. Not all villains were trying to change things for good reasons. “When?”
“The day after the bombing.”
“Hero, how are you still alive?”
“Luck, if you can call it that.” Hero shoved Villain away. Their eyes were empty as they stared over Villain’s shoulder. “Are you going to kill me, Villain? I don’t think I’d have the strength to stop you if you tried. Not anymore.” Hero’s eyes darted to Villain’s face, searching for something, “Don’t think I’ve given up being a hero. I will never stop fighting against the people who want to hurt others. Even if it means my life, I won’t let you hurt any of the innocent people in that store.”
When Hero started to stand, using the wall behind them for support, Villain let them. They watched closely as Hero rose to their full height, something they hadn’t seen them do in a while. They had fought three or four times since Villain’s apartment had been destroyed. Villain hadn’t gone easy on them. Even so, after everyone they had relied on turned against them, Hero was still willing to fight if it meant protecting someone else. 
Villain stood, “When was the last time you took a shower, Hero?”
Laughter filled the alley, “Really? That’s the best insult you could come up with?”
“It’s not an insult. It’s a question. When was the last time you showered and ate a full meal? When was the last time you slept without fear?” Villain rested their hand on the wall next to Hero’s head. Standing tall they were nearly a foot taller than the little Hero, and they pressed closer, boxing their nemesis in. 
Hero flinched. They never flinched.
“I didn’t set the bomb, Hero. I wouldn’t blow up my own home.” Villain wrapped their free arm around Hero’s waist as their legs gave out from under them. “The bomb was meant to kill me. It was set by terrorists Hero Agency smuggled into the city.”
Hero cried out as Villain reached to touch a growing red spot on Hero’s side. “I might have given you the limp, but this wasn’t me. Lay down. Let me see.” 
To Villain’s surprise, Hero didn’t struggle as they were laid down and their wounds were revealed. Their eyes were dull and glazed as they stared through Villain. Every so often, their mouth would open and close as if they were trying to speak, but no sound came out. 
Finally, as Villain worked to remove a filthy bandage from Hero’s leg, Hero spoke. Their voice was gravely with unshed tears but strong. “They were trying to get rid of me. I was a scapegoat from the first time they sent me to fight you.” Hero smacked Villain’s hands away and yanked the bandage off themselves. “I have one final request, if I may.”
Villain simply nodded and examined the now bleeding wound.
“Save my dog? You don’t have to keep him. You can take him to the pound or something, but give him a chance to make it out of this? He’s behind the dumpster next to Mckinsey’s Dress Shop.”
Villain nodded again, this time standing and walking back into the store. They made a quick call for someone to collect the dog and bring them a car, then gathered some bandages and slipped back out into the alley. Just as they thought, Hero was right where they had left them.
Eyelids drooping and teeth chattering in the cold air, Hero shuffled back slightly before seeming to recognize Villain. They stood on shaky legs and shifted into a fighting position. “I’m ready. Do me a favor, and don’t hold back. I want my last battle to be what people remember, not my failure in the past.”
Villain didn’t stop their cautious march toward their wounded enemy. One step at a time, they inched closer, giving their man on the roof the signal when they were just about within arm’s reach. The marksman’s aim was true, and Hero would have fallen to their knees if Villain hadn’t caught them. “You can’t die yet, little Hero. You don’t know the whole truth yet. Come. I’m going to take care of you, and you’re going to learn just why it is I fight.”
Version 1
Version 2 Part 2
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jvngkook97 · 2 years
Text
Cowboy Take Me Away
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pairing; cowboy!jungkook x city girl!reader ft. cowboy!taehyung
genre; angst, fluff, smut, humor, cowboy au
warnings; jungkook looking like he does in the gif (yes that’s a warning cause 🥵), tae being the best wingman on both ends, lots of humor and hints of fluff, cursing, angst in the form of a deceased family member, mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, grinding, marking, slightly dom!reader and sub!koo, consensual sex, semi public sex in a single person bathroom located in a bar (but it’s locked so), handjob, clit play, even though no condom is used in this fic always be sure to wrap it before you tap it please and thank you (unless you’re actively trying to get pregnant than good luck!)
rating; 21+ MINORS DNI
w/c; 4,540
a/n; was listening to what I knew back in the 90s as ‘Dixie Chicks’ that are now known as just ‘The Chicks’, and then Permission to Dance came on like a moment of the universe aligning and thus this scenario was formed and the rest is history. this is unedited so sorry in advance for any errors. like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback is always appreciated and helps keep this writer motivated. <3
networks; @ficscafe, @thebtswritersclub, @kflixnet
“Well, well, well–,”
The wind blows your hair in front of your face as you spin around to locate the male behind the voice, desperately trying to tame the mane in a battle you’re only losing.
“Look what the city stray cat dragged in.”
He lets out a deep, baritone, chuckle. One that triggers a memory from deep within your mind, back when you used to come up and visit your grandpa on his farm in this small southern town located in seemingly the middle of nowhere.
In your memory he’s teaching you how to properly lasso a fake bullhead decoy while on horseback, which resulted in an epic fail on your part and a whole days worth of stacking twice as much hay in the barn due to losing a bet with said male and taking responsibility for his load.
As soon as the mini dust devil cleared it’s ugly cyclone from disrupting your view, were you able to finally meet the mischievous eyes of the body behind the voice.
Kim Taehyung.
After exchanging mock pleasantries, true to the nature of your friendship, Taehyung’s once playful nature suddenly turns serious.
“I’m sorry for your loss, y/n. Your grandpa was a good man.”
He gave your shoulder a light squeeze and you mustered up a half assed smile in return.
“Thanks, Tae.”
“So, it must be true then? You’re taking over your grandpa’s farm?”
All you do is nod.
He lets out a low whistle, then throws an arm around your shoulders to lead you to your favorite place in this small town — the bar.
“Let’s get you a drink.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Instead of business, are you looking for some pleasure?”
You nearly choke on the drink that only ends up dribbling down your chin as you haphazardly swallow the rest of your beer with a loud gulp.
He lets out a boyish laugh, accompanied by an equally as childish grin.
“Your mind has never left that gutter, has it?” You asked with a deadpanned expression, though not all that surprised.
He shrugs, then gains the attention of the bartender to get you two more drinks. They come within seconds and you cheers to nothing before slamming them down in an impromptu chugging contest.
He lets out a loud burp, before giving an equally as loud ‘whoop’ in victory. You roll your eyes at his antics, not liking it in the slightest that you’ve lost to him, yet again.
“I was only asking–,” he went to resume his previous statement that had you raising your brows in feigned interest.“–because, my good buddy is in town and seems to be looking for some fun of his own.”
“Sure.”
“Now, before you say no–,”
His eyes widen, before his mouth drops open in disbelief.
“Wait. Seriously? I was only half joking, but–,”
“Yeah. I’ll meet him. Got any pictures?”
He scoots his stool closer to yours so you can get a better view of his phone screen as he swipes through multiple pictures saved on his phone from their previous escapades, even some short videos where you’re able to hear his voice and you know, you just know.
He’s going to be trouble—
“Does he know anything about me?”
“Not really. Just that you’re originally from the city.”
“Good. Don’t let him know I’m not exactly new to town, I wanna see how he acts.”
He gives a snicker of amusement, but the look in his eyes lets you know he’s just as on board to your little ploy as you are.
“Also, have him meet me at the other bar.”
At this, he gives you a wary expression of hesitation, not as on board with this part of your plan.
“The Rusty Nail? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
—and you’re ready for it.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
You get to the other country themed bar in town with little to no problems, other than the occasional wolf whistle that would be blown in your direction as you walked by the sleazy bar goers that liked to linger outside the entrance. You paid them no mind.
It’s a dive bar, alright. And it was just as bad as you remembered it. Dark, noisy, with mysteriously colored stains everywhere you look. You decide to sit at the bar, wondering if you should flag the bartender or wait for this friend of Taehyung’s — Jungkook.
“Hey, Leona. Two whiskey’s for me and my friend here.”
Suddenly leaning against the bar next to you is Jungkook, somehow more gorgeous in person than in his pics. Ah, so he knows the barkeep by name, hm?
He stares down at you, raking his eyes over you with obvious interest. Normally, this kind of attention in a bar would put you off, but you’ve been looking forward to this. His attention sends a thrill down your spine, one you haven’t had the pleasure of feeling in a long time.
“Your friend, hm?” One brow of yours raises.
“Oh, well, I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
You think about all the explicit flirting you and he exchanged yesterday when Taehyung gave him your number so you could establish a basis of connection other than said male.
“Right.” You give him a sly grin. “Wouldn’t want that.”
“So, what do you think? Not your usual city pub, huh?”
“I love dive bars.”
“I knew you would. Plus, none of the deadbeats here will care if the bathroom sees a little closed door action.” He winks at you and you can feel the tips of your ears as they warm from his very direct personality.
“What happened to not being presumptuous?”
“I ain’t presuming nothing!” His cheeky grin says otherwise. “Simply telling you how it is here.” He lifts his glass with a glimmer in his eyes.
“Cheers.”
You raise yours in kind.
“To a satisfying night.”
He smiles and you clink your glasses. He drinks deep, downing the whole swig in one go. The whiskey goes down rough, but you finish it off quickly and slam your glass down along with Jungkook’s.
He makes a sour face, before it’s replaced by his usual nonchalant demeanor.
“Wow. That stuff is always worse than I expect it to be. I love Leona to death, but this whiskey is what happens when soy sauce and rubbing alcohol get to know each other a little too well.”
He catches the current topic of interest’s attention and asks for another drink, a beer this time, then turns to ask if you want something else as well.
Rather than having him tell her what you want, you politely face towards said bartender and ask sweetly for another round of whiskey, she gives you a wink of recognition and Jungkook is none the wiser to your small interaction, to consumed with running a finger along the brim of his black cowboy hat that he set down on the bar countertop upon sidling up next to you. It’s not until you give your answer of another whiskey, that you gain back his full attention.
“Damn. Either you’ve got a palate of steel, or you’re trying to impress me.”
You lean closer to his figure, fingertips barely touching atop the counter as you reply.
“Is it working?”
“Can’t tell.” His eyes narrow in on your face as his eyes do their best to not glance down at the cleavage you not so subtly are brandishing for him. “I’m torn between being impressed and feeling bad for you.”
You lean away from him to resume your previous stance of holding a healthy distance between you both, something he doesn’t fail to notice as his body reacts opposite in the way of leaning towards you instead.
“What’s the point in going out if you don’t get the hard stuff?”
Jungkook laughs, his nose crinkling, and his eyes cut to you in a way that warms you right up. Or – maybe that’s the whiskey.
“Can’t argue with that.”
With a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, you each grab your drinks once the bartender returns and Jungkook leads you deeper into the bar and to a back room outfitted with a pool table, dartboards, and a few patrons lounging on stools and a ratty couch.
Jungkook clearly knows a few of the folks back here, judging by the friendly smiles and beer bottles raised in greeting. It’s when they notice you and the fact that Jungkook has company, do they smirk and leave you two alone. You both take seats at an unoccupied table.
“There’s an understanding here. Most everyone is a misfit or rebel of some sort, so no one butts in where they ain’t welcome.”
“I’ll fit right in then.” You take the chance and steal his cowboy hat right off his head as you say this, and place it firmly on top of yours with an innocent smile, though he knows better.
“I thought you might. So, what’s your story darlin’? For real this time?”
“You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?” He starts, then gives a doe eyed pout that he knows you wouldn’t be able to resist. “Come on, you ain’t gonna tell me?”
When you give him an air of indifference and slight hesitation of opening up to him, does he feel the need to break the ice first.
“Here. I’ll spill first.” He makes a show of clearing his throat while feigning a serious air. “My name is Jungkook, and I work on a farm nearby for the season. I like horses, singing, dancing, and–,” he steps a foot closer to you, voice dropping down an octave before continuing. “–I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you all night.”
He gestures towards you with his hands in a silent way of telling you it’s now your turn. Not willing to give up information just yet, you decide to string him along with a follow up question of your own.
“If you like dancing, then why aren’t we dancing right now?”
“Because right now we’re talking.” He shoots finger guns at you with a shit eating grin. “Nice try, but I won’t be easily distracted. I want to know about you.”
“Well, I’m y/n. I’m new in town, and I actually work on a farm too. Or, I will soon.”
“Do you miss the city?”
You shrug your shoulders, face blank. You didn’t have anything going on to keep you within the city – you had friends, sure, but only the work kind. Didn’t have any family over there, and definitely didn’t have any relationship to keep you locked in. At least here, you had your grandpa’s farm and the memories with it. Also, you had Taehyung. His personality may be out there, but he kept things interesting and you knew he would be there for you in a heartbeat if you needed him.
“Not really. I’m excited to start my country life chapter.” You say with a genuine smile, one that he reciprocates with a solidarity nod of his head at your answer.
“Good for you. I think you’ll find it has its charms. Present company included.”
He leans back and gestures to himself, smirking. You want to be put off by the arrogance, and you normally would be, but he cuts such a nice figure that you can’t help but follow his hands with your gaze. When you finally drag your eyes back to his, he’s looking at you intently and with not a small amount of amusement. God. He’s so pleased with himself.
At that moment, Jungkook glances over your shoulder and sees the folks in the corner with the pool table and dartboards are packing up their things. Jungkook looks at you hopefully.
“What do you think? Want to play?”
You survey the area with a look of interest.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
He grins at you.
“Which one? Ladies choice.”
You bite your lip in contemplation before deciding.
“I like pool.”
Jungkook stands and offers you a hand up. He grabs his drink and hands you yours. Each tiny moment of contact between the two of you sends a thrill through you.
“Awesome. If you’re new, I can teach you a thing or two.” He winks at you and your stomach lurches. There’s that unending confidence again. You’re not new to playing pool at all, but you’ll humor him.
Jungkook is quite good at pool, much to your non-surprise. The picture of the man you’re with keeps getting clearer, and it’s this: super competent, and super aware of it.
Damn him, but you’re into it.
You chug the last of your drink, then set it on the table closest to you that is also sporting Jungkook’s own half finished drink as you watch him. He cracks the ball and breaks like an expert. Then he turns to you and lets you take the first shot. Great. You line up what could conceivably be a good shot and do that thing you’ve seen other pool players do, where they lean forward and wiggle the cue back and forth. You shoot, and you do successfully hit the white ball, but it just grazes the next ball and gets nowhere near the pocket.
“I thought you said you were good at pool?” He jests at you playfully, lopsided grin on full display. You give him the stink eye before replying smartly.
“I said I liked it. I never said anything about being good.”
Jungkook chuckles and comes around the pool table to stand by you. He places one hand on your shoulder and his other on your arm with the pool cue.
“You want me to show you how it’s done?” His voice is low, but clearly audible in the dusty silence of the bar. You drag your eyes up to meet his that are dark in the dim light and you challenge him.
“Oh? So you can put your hands all over me?”
His eyes glint, and yep, of course that’s his angle. In the back of your mind you wonder if he’s used the same tactic on other bar goers, but you don’t let it linger there for long cause you realize you could care less in the moment.
“Maybe. But only if you want me to.”
“I might appreciate some pointers, but only if you behave—,” you raise your brows at him. “Got it?”
Jungkook just grins and steps closer to you, eliminating the space between you so that he’s curved around you, his arms on your arms and hands on your hands. You feel your breathing hitch and try to focus on the pool cue in your hands. He speaks close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck.
“It starts with your stance. Find your center of gravity and let yourself stand loose, but controlled.”
“Loose, but controlled. Got it.”
You try your best to not have your voice sound effected by his close proximity, yet it still comes out breathy. If he notices, then for once, he doesn’t say anything. He talks you through a few more tips, then the two of you move as one as he guides you to take your shot. The cue lands square in the ball, it sails forward and sends the closest stripe into the pocket.
A success.
Your held breath escapes you in an airy laugh and you twirl, still gently encased in Jungkook’s arms, grinning at him. He grins back, but then you both realize just how close you are, and both your smiles melt into something more…hungry.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling like I could use a break.”
The insinuation doesn’t go over your head, and being the stubborn woman you are, you persist.
“What kind of break?”
His eyes flick to your lips and you lick them without meaning to. That kind of break, got it.
Jungkook smiles ever so slightly.
“Remember what I said about the bathrooms? They’re cleaner than you’d think and no one will notice.”
You blink your eyes once again at his direct nature. Holy shit. You know this is literally what you set out to do by agreeing to this date, but are you really about to hook up with basically a stranger, in a dive bar, in a bathroom?
Jungkook takes a step backwards, his fingers lingering on your wrist in an open question. He watches you with dark eyes, pupils blown wide, and yes — yes, that’s exactly what you’re about to do.
You slide your hand through his loose grip on your wrist to entangle your fingers through his.
“Lead the way.”
He grins and it looks simultaneously boyish and devious. He leads you towards the bathroom, steps inside, and pulls you in after him.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
You’re barely inside before Jungkook presses you against the closed and locked door (which, in a place like this, you didn’t expect the lock to work but you know, cool). His arms come up to frame your head and he leans close so that your breath mingles together.
In a moment of clarity, you ask yourself how far you want to take this. He may be Taehyung’s friend, but to you, he is still a stranger after all. A super hot stranger that you have undeniable chemistry with, but still. When his lips ghost over yours at the slightest movement, you feel that crackle of electricity shoot through your entire being and you know – you’re fucked.
Metaphorically, and soon, quite literally.
You sensed trouble before, but if it’s so bad, why does it feel so good.
You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?
You start thinking of a way to tell Jungkook your intent without breaking the mood or coming off as super corny, but Jungkook talks first, voice low and raspy.
“I want to fuck you so badly right now.”
Your eyes widen in the slightest, breath hitching at the vulgar use of words that make you rub your thighs together in anticipation.
That works.
Still trying to keep an air of confidence, you seal the deal, lips touching his as you speak.
“Then do it.”
Restraining himself, he can’t help but ask.
“How’d I get so lucky to meet someone like you?”
You do your best to refrain from the exaggerated eye roll that wanted to occur from his seemingly empty words, to you.
“I bet you say that to all your bathroom hookups.”
He shakes his head indignantly.
“Ain’t no one like you, darlin’. No one.”
Jungkook grins, then surges forward until his mouth is on yours. Kissing him is electric, just like before, and somehow everything you’d been imagining all night. You didn’t even realize you were imagining it until this very moment, and he’s blowing all your predictions out of the water.
His body presses yours against the door and his lips are all over yours, leaving only to kiss your neck. You groan at slick kisses on your neck, and he presses his lips harder onto your skin, harshly sucking and biting until you’re sure he’ll leave a mark if he keeps it up. The thought of coming out of this with your neck littered in bruises made by him has you wrapping your arms around his head to bring him impossibly closer, head tilting to allow more access.
You tangle yourself fingers in his hair and try to remember how to breathe while he still kisses furiously against your neck, sending shivers and an intoxicatingly tiny shot of pain down your back. Satisfied, he finally comes back up for air and admires his handiwork.
“I think that’s going to leave a mark.”
God. He doesn’t even sound guilty. Just pleased. All the same though, it did feel pretty good.
“I hope it does.”
For a moment, you stare at each other. Then he leans back in, kissing you softly this time, and it makes you dizzy. You stay like this for who knows how long. Hands in hair, gasping into the other’s mouth and groaning at every little contact.
Jungkook’s lips are kissed swollen, and you’re positive that yours are no different, but neither of you care. When your hands trail down to his neck you can feel a light sheen of sweat taking form, and only then do you realize how hot you both have made the enclosed space just with your bodies alone.
Before long, you feel like you’re bursting, and your hands knot in the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt. In response, he grinds against you, sliding a knee between your legs so you’re partial resting on his leg, and you both groan.
Breathless, you try to unbuckle his belt but it’s a gaudy thing, and you spare exactly one moment to inwardly roll your eyes at that classic cowboy touch before he brings his hands down to help out. In an instant, his jeans and underwear are shoved down and stretched around his thighs.
Equally as breathless, he starts fiddling with your own clothes, hiking your shirt up and reaching down to free your hips from your waistband. You grab at his bare ass to pull him towards you, and he obliges, crashing back over you and kissing you harder.
In the midst of your sloppy kissing, you grab his hand and slip it between your thighs. You thrill at the groan he releases when he feels just how wet you are already. His hand against you sends a shudder through your body, and Jungkook chuckles against your mouth.
Without anymore ceremony, Jungkook starts working his hand against your core to the same rhythm as your gyrating hips so much so that it has you clutching onto him with all your might. Not wanting to be the only sole one receiving pleasure, you reach down to slide your own hand down to his impressive, girthy, length. Your thumb teases the tip of his cock head, spreading the pre-cum as means of a natural lubricant so you’re able to stroke him with shorter, but quicker strokes, causing him to gasp and pull away from your heated kiss at the sensation.
“Y/N.”
His voice is low and urgent. You instantly know exactly what he’s thinking because you’re thinking it as well. You both pull back, hands releasing the other as you take a moment to openly admire what you can see of each other in the dim bathroom. Each sliver of bare skin is tantalizing, calling you to kiss, caress, or bite him until he cries your name.
“So. You work out?”
The random question is both humorous and needed to cut into the heaviness that still is settled between your half nude bodies. Jungkook laughs and closes the distance between you, kissing you hard and pressing the entirety of his body against you that you can feel the tip of his cock as he aligns it with your center. You widen your stance the best you can to accommodate, and he slides in easily due to how slick your folds are. He lets out a groan at the warmth and tightness, and you let out a low hiss at the delicious stretch he makes you feel.
You grind against each other like this as long as you can take it, which isn’t long. The feeling of his calloused hands raking up and down your body, his skin sliding against yours, and his breath in your ear has your body buzzing. You change pace, wanting to savor the moment, and move your hips slow and steady. Jungkook moves in time, reacting to your every movement.
You? Drawing this out because it feels amazing and you don’t want it to end? Maybe. But who cares. Jungkook is into it too.
“Y/N. Christ.”
Your name rolling off his tongue brings out your dominant side in a flash.
“Say my name louder.”
“You want the bar to hear us?” He chuckles mirthlessly.
“Maybe.”
Your answer is resolute, it has him cursing when a moan slips out, but yet he still does what you ask. He says your name louder and more fervently with each thrust of your hips.
Finally, when you think you can’t take anymore of it, you both gasp against each other’s mouths and cry out in the darkly lit bathroom. Jungkook breathes hard against your neck, and you pant into his shoulder, teeth lightly nipping at the sweaty skin that makes him nip at your neck in kind.
Well, that was something.
He pulls back and you’re pleased to see his lips are kiss swollen and his skin is flush with both color and sweat. He grins at you and you smile back.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
You spend a few moments cleaning yourselves up and readjusting your clothes back into their proper places, sharing a couple laughs at how eager you both were.
Finally, Jungkook offers you his hand and you take it, letting him lead you out into the bar. Just like he promised, not a single person gives you a second look as you exit, even though you’re sure that the blush you’re adorning makes it obvious. You feel a little sheepish, but Jungkook is so confident and sure of himself that you find yourself following suit.
He leads you out of the back room, and towards Leona who gives you a wave as Jungkook slaps some money on the counter to both pay for the drinks and give a generous tip. After your tabs are paid, do you make your way out of the dive bar and into the refreshingly cool night air where you keep a healthy and friendly distance between you.
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
You tilt his cowboy hat that was still resting on your head, as you bow your head with a sly smirk on your face. Then, you take it off to set back in its rightful place on top of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook barks out a laugh and you grin. He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and you find yourself actually taking it.
“A pleasure is right.”
You both look at each other, both figuring out how to say goodbye. At the beginning of the night, you were strangers. In the middle of the night, there was a split second where you were potential lovers. And now, at the end, it was up in the air on exactly what it was you two are.
You’d like to think you could be friends, but only time will tell. Not wanting to leave without one last kiss, you make the first move. You step forward and lean in to give him one chaste kiss on the lips. It feels…somehow more intimate than the electricity between you in the bathroom. So, you cut it short before it goes on too long, but you’re both smiling when you pull apart.
“Goodnight, darlin’. Until next time.”
He tips his hat at you one last time, before pivoting in his boots and walking off into the night. A satisfying crunch of the dirt beneath his feet is all that is heard, along with the distant howl of a coyote as the stars twinkled above.
With a mock salute at his back, you give your own reply underneath your breath.
“See you, Space Cowboy.”
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