#He was forced to praise Dani

[waru-chan8]

Izasku you are a breve one, asking Puig about Dani

[inklore]

the lake is for lovers.

— tyler owens x f!reader

premise: summer will always be your favorite, spending weeks at the lake house with the crew. drinking, good food, sneaking off with tyler, making love under the stars. what more could a girl ask for?

contents: unprotected p in v, dirty talk, praise, foreplay, coming inside, alcohol consumption, oral, weed mention, fluff, tyler’s favorite pet name is baby ok fight me, he’s also thick as hell | wc: 6k+

note: this fic started out as filth on a dock, which then turned into me making a getting d at the lake playlist, which only worsened my tyler brainrot and made me write these cluster of filthy blurbs.

There were many reasons for you to love summer. 

Picnics under a favored willow tree, ice cream shops coming out with outlandish sugary concoctions that could take down even the most rambunctious five year old. The days are longer, filled with more laughs and bonfires. Fireworks—as if that had a designated season to be let off, Boone would take on anyone who thought differently. 

Tornado season was over, which, depending on who you asked, was not a reason to love the overheated season.

But your favorite thing about summer was by far the weeks you and the crew spent at Dex’s lake house back in Arkansas. A lake house that had gone from his retirement home when he left a shitty corporate job to a summer sanctuary for the family he found doing what he truly loved.

So every summer, all of you loaded up Tyler’s truck, the van, and the motor home and headed to the private dwelling, where you would spend the rest of the summer swimming, napping on the dock, raiding Boone’s smoke stash, and finding the nearest field to stare up at the stars. 

Or your favorite: drinking until Tyler wrangled you into the house and into bed before you and Dani took the boat out for a joy ride, or you and Lilly had another incident of lighting said boat on fire with a miss trajectory of a firework that Boone gets scolded at for bringing out when everyone was three sheets to the wind by your wrangler.

As if he didn’t love it.

As if he had not convinced you all to jump into the lake naked one night. 

“Oh no,” The man himself shook his head. Placing his hand over yours, your fingers wrapped around the head of a bottle of tequila. The cart already filled with boxes of Miller and Budweiser.

“Oh yes.” Your fingers wrapped together around the bottle, pulling it halfway off the shelf before he actually used force to stop you—that force being lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing.

Moving his body so he was standing beside you, chest to chest. Your brows raise when you try to pull the bottle again, and he squeezes your fingers harder.

“Tyler.” 

“Baby.” 

You roll your eyes, “Boone wants it.”

“Yeah, Boone wants it!” 

You both can’t help laughing as you hear the man himself yelling from three shelves away. 

“Lilly wants it too!” 

“Don’t be a pussy,” Dani yells as if there aren’t other people in the store with you—Tyler leaning his head back with a sigh, his mouth pulled in a smile. 

If the shop owner wasn’t used to the group of you making a pit stop at the decently sized—rundown—off the road liquor store several times during the summer; you’re sure he would have kicked half of you out. 

“Yeah,” you say, giving him that teasing smile, turning your head to the side. Walking your free fingers up his chest. “Don’t be a pussy.” You whisper, looking up at him. His smile turns into a smirk as he leans down, his lips hovering above yours. 

“The last time ya’ll had Tequila Boone got stuck on the roof.” He is completely serious, but he says it in that voice that makes you want to melt into his hands and do whatever he wants. That stern undertone that made you want to listen and rebel—either outcome was always one you loved. 

You nod. “True, but.” Your palm flattens against his chest, moving up until your fingers play with the baby hairs at the back of his neck. “If I recall, you weren’t complaining when you were fucking me sober that night. So, if anything, I think it’s a win for all of us.” 

“Not for Boone.”

“Not for Boone.” You both smile before pressing your lips together, Tyler’s hand guiding the bottle into the cart, trapping you between him in the cart when his arms wrap around your middle. 

“Glad you could see it my way.” You bite your bottom lip, your stomach fluttering, as he gives you that sweet smirk when you grab the ball cap from his head and slip it on yours. Pulling out of his arms to walk down the aisle, “now hurry up, so we can revisit memory lane.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

The first morning you’re there is when your worst hangovers occur. 

The first night of drinking is always the hardest you do, as if the steam of working for months wrangling and chasing storms has finally been let out. Decompressed of the pressures of having to worry about live streaming and fixing something on Ty’s truck.

It was a blessing that the nearest neighbor was at least five minutes away, with Tyler’s perfectly curated playlist blaring from the speakers that lined the aforementioned truck. Boone being louder than the aforementioned music, Dani and Lilly hollering when one of them loses whatever competitive thing they’re doing. Dex mixing up some concoction inside the house and insisting it’ll help with the hangover, even though you all know it won't, but damn, does it taste good. 

You and Tyler occupying yourselves around the fire, his hands on your hips, holding you close to him as you sway to the music. His lips at your neck, leaving small nips and kisses along your skin until you turn around to scowl at him. His hands slipping into the back pockets of your shorts. 

“You’re a bad dance partner.” 

“You’re even worse.” His hand wraps around yours to press to the front of his jeans, where he’s hard and straining against them. “Can’t focus on my moves when my girl’s causin’ such a distraction.”

You smile up at him, running your fingers along the outline of his dick. “Poor boy. Should your girl take you upstairs and fix this little problem?”

“Little?” His brows raise, giving you a look that makes you laugh at the amusement on his face. “Now we’re definitely going upstairs.” 

You’re laughing all the way up the stairs, Tyler grinning as he talks shit the entire way up, slapping your ass until it feels red and raw through your shorts. 

And when he has you naked and pressed to the mattress, your ass in the air, thighs coated in your own slick from him, bringing you right to the precipice of your orgasm, only to keep taking it away until you started whining and he gripped your hips and flipped you over. Pulling your hips up, his teeth biting into your ass cheek. 

The head of his cock runs through your folds, the wet noise that comes from him separating them to press at your entrance makes you whimper. 

When he pushes in slow, too fucking slow, your fingers dig into the quilt. Your legs shaking, your body wanting to pull away from the intrusion—no matter how stretched out you already are from his fingers and tongue, the burn from the stretch of his cock never compares to it. Always stretches you out until you feel too full, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

Tyler presses a kiss at your tailbone, his cock almost fully inside of your fluttering pussy. “Still think it’s little, baby?”

And after you’re coated in sweat and your throat is hoarse and raw, your legs jelly, your pussy feeling swollen and dripping from the several orgasms Tyler fucked out of you—and the come he fucked into you; wrapping your legs around his hips so there was nowhere for either of you to go while he did so; your body is limp against his chest. His fingers running along your spine. 

You feel completely spent and sedated, the liquor aiding in the job of lulling your body completely. But Tyler is all smiles and wide awake—after all these years together, you still have no idea what makes a tornado wrangler tired. 

He’s always raring to go, and it’s both hot and frustrating at the same time. 

You groan when he moves your body gently off of his, making a quick trip downstairs. A glass of water in his hand seconds later, demanding you sit up and drink half, even through your protests. A hand rubbing at your back. 

“Good girl,” he says, sweetly kissing your cheek and putting the glass on the nightstand. He’ll ask you if you want to shower because the both of you are covered in sweat and come and you’ll only reply by pulling him back down in bed with your face pressed to his chest. 

His chuckle shakes your cheek when he shuts the lamp off, pulls the quilt over your shoulders, and presses a kiss atop your head. 

But best believe he pulls your ass into the shower when the sun rises. Your head pounding from the shots you and Lilly threw back and from the beers you drained. Tyler’s fingers are gentle as he washes your hair. Gentle as he washes your body. He presses a kiss on each of your shoulders when he washes your back.

That space between your legs still feeling swollen from last night's activities, but his fingers still find their way between them. His palm on the shower wall as he stands behind you and rubs your clit until you’re coming. 

Teeth, lips, and tongue at the back of your neck coaching you through it, “that’s my girl.” He’ll praise you like you’ve just wrangled your own kind of storm. A storm he caused. 

A storm that always helps your pounding headache just a little more than the eggs Dexter places on your plate when you make your way downstairs. 

“I think I’m goin’ sober for the resta’ the summer.” Boone groans between his palms. Palms that are stopping his drooping head from falling into his eggs.

“Lilly’s making flamin’ peppers tonight.” Dani grins from the head of the table, chewing on a piece of bacon. It has the reaction you all expect, Boone picking up his head, perking up, and feigning excitement. 

“Really?” 

You all laugh together, regardless of how much it hurts your temples. 

“You’re supposed to be soaking up the heat, not staring, Owens.” 

You squint from the sun as you turn your head to him, the two of you lying out on the dock. Letting the sun dry you off from your swim in the water. Something that should be relaxing.

But Tyler clearly distracted himself by staring at you. 

“Can’t I do both?” He grins, lying on his side, his head propped up by his hand.

“You’re gonna have the worst farmer's tan.”

“Worth it for the view.” He kisses you, his finger and thumb lightly pinching your chin. 

It doesn’t take long for his kiss to progress from a sweet peck to something more as his tongue licks into your mouth. With the way his thumb circles your nipple through your swimsuit, his hand moves down your torso to the top of your bottoms, easily slipping past them. 

“Tyler,” you warn through a breath when his finger runs along your folds. 

“What?” He smiles against your neck, “it’s just us.”

“Dani and Dexter are literally out on the water.”

“They’re tryna catch dinner. They’re far gone.” The pad of his finger runs against your clit in a slow circle. Making you gasp, your hips chasing the touch. 

“Boone,” you swallow. Try to be the level headed one here, “Lilly.” 

“Store.” He says it simply. Teeth nipping at your ear, “let me make my girl come.” His finger adds pressure to your clit, making you moan. “Please,” he whispers against your ear. 

And if this man made you a sane woman, you’d pull his hand away and make him take you inside. But sanity has no room around Tyler. Sanity didn’t send you into a tornado with him. Didn’t have you riding him in the front seat of his truck after afternoons of chasing, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

No, being in love with Tyler Owens causes sanity to fly out the window. Made you throw caution to the wind. Made you chase that high. Made you ride it. 

Made you want and beg for more.

His love was soft and ever consuming. A gentleness that made up for the intensity of everything else. It’s why it was so easy for you to put your life in his hands every single day you went out into the storm.  

That’s why your legs bend and open for him, and why you let his fingers fuck you on the dock where you could easily get caught. His thumb rubbing your clit, your body burning, your pussy clenching and pulling his fingers in. 

“Don’t stop, baby, don’t stop.” He grunts in your ear as your hips move, fucking yourself down on his fingers when your orgasm gets closer and closer until you’re coming and his hand is in your hair, pulling your mouth to his so he can swallow your loud moan. Can hold you through the euphoric high that has your body shivering even with the sun shining down on it. 

His fingers slip from you wet and coated with your come. His eyes never leave yours when he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean before grinning, grabbing your jaw, and sharing the fruits of his labor. 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Lilly hollers as she slams the van door. “Come help us!” 

"Comin',” Tyler yells back, a smirk on his face as his eyes waggle at the double meaning. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You laugh, pushing at his chest as you stand and walk down the dock. Arms wrap around you, making you both waddle down the rest of the way. Tyler kissing your cheek. You can still feel his hardness against your ass—hardness that was just grinding itself against your hip. 

“I love you,” he says softly. 

“More?” 

“More than anything.” 

You lean your head back against his shoulder, smiling. “Infinitely.” 

“Unbound.” 

When you two step off the last wood plank of the dock, you stop, both turning your heads to kiss each other. Your hand lifts to run your fingers through the back of his hair. 

"Oh, don’t worry, we got it, ya’ll!” Lilly says sarcastically from the porch. 

You smile against Tyler’s lips. “I love you. But let's go help before she refuses to share the good snacks with us.”

“Damn right, I will!” She yells as she shakes a box of said snacks in her arms. 

Tyler laughs and presses one last kiss on your lips before he untangles himself from you and runs over to the van. 

“Ain’t no way!”

“Pick up the slack!”

“I’m doin’ my best here!” 

You and Tyler laugh as Dani and Boone argue as you both sink the white balls into their cups. Dani scowling as she downs her drink, and Boone raises his high with a frown as he does the same. 

When Boone misses and Dani gets one in their next turn, the way they cheer and high five warms something inside of you instead. Brings joy to the already loose buzzing that thumps through your veins from how many sips you’ve had tonight. Your cheeks are heated and hurting from all the laughing you’ve been doing. 

You grab the cup, ready to down its contents but Tyler puts his hand over the top, grabbing it from you and downing it in one gulp. Sending you a wink. Whispering in your ear when he leans over the table to put the now empty cup alongside the other ones, “I want to take you somewhere.” 

It’s all the explanation you need as to why he doesn’t want you too far gone. You hadn’t seen him drink anything tonight besides the few cups Dani and Boone—mostly Dani—landed their ball in. 

Some nights, he doesn’t drink at all.

Some nights he makes sure everyone goes to bed with something other than booze warming your stomachs—usually a frozen pizza he always burns at the bottom, or the infamous Ty Club Sandy, as Boone has deemed to call it. Filling you up until you are on the cusp of being sober and ready for your heads to hit your pillows. 

Tyler took his appointed mother hen role even further for the rest of the night until the aforementioned heads hit your pillows.

Sitting in the caravan with Boone for hours until he exhausted himself from talking about new ideas for the channel and one of his favorite subjects: pyrophilia. 

Or lounging on the couch and listening to Lilly and Dani talk about ways to make Kyro better, new elements to add for better views in the sky. 

Dexter always passes out before anyone, filling his gut and waving goodnight before disappearing down the hall.

Tyler making his way up to your bedroom after everyone had gone off to bed. Cleaning himself up and crawling under the sheets with you—having sent you up to bed hours ago with a pat on your ass and plans to be ready for him when he got up there, knowing full well you would fall asleep before an hour even passed.  

His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, face pressed into the back of your neck. The two of you drifting off to sleep. You take it upon yourself to keep his plans of being ready for him when you wake him up with your mouth wrapped around his cock. 

His hips pushing up into your mouth, languid and sporadic, until he’s fully woken up. His jaw tightens before falling open when he looks down at you and watches you circle your tongue around his tip. 

“Morning,” you’ll say with a smile and he’ll groan softly. Matching your smile with a grin of his own, that look of lust and desire morphs his beautiful features into something needy.

He’ll try to speak, try to say something sweet or filthy, but the words never come out. Just heavy pants and his teeth swelling up his bottom lip as he watches you—as he throws his head back against the pillow and groans.

When you pull him out of your mouth and straddle his hips, you reach behind you to guide him through your wetness, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time. Mouth twitching when you slide down on him slowly. When your own eyes flutter closed from the burning stretch. 

You ride him slowly, leaving marks along his neck and chest from your lips and nails digging into his skin when he tries to buck his hips up—fuck you harder. Set the pace that he craves so much when you are on top of him like this. A pace he adores, from how lost you become in pleasure, from your tits bouncing in his face, to how beautiful you look taking the reins. 

But you stop your movements each time you feel his hips move. The look he gives you is pitiful and needy.

“Fuck, baby.” 

You smile, lean down, and kiss his chin as you start to move your hips again, just as slowly. “I’m just tryna make up for last night.”

“You’re killin’ me.” 

After the two of you have wiped the floor with Boone and Dani and they’re demanding Lilly and Dex go against them next because they know they’ll actually win this time; Tyler grabs your hand and walks you to his truck, opening the door for you to climb inside. 

“Is it safe for you to drive?”

“Would I put you in a situation where you weren’t safe?” He grabs your hand and kisses the top of it. 

You can always tell when he’s buzzed or drunk; his cheeks get flushed and his eyes squinting more than usual when he smiles or laughs. He’s sober. 

When you finally get to the spot, you turn to give Tyler a look. He’s all smiles as he drives through a field of tall grass, turning the wheel to back up his truck the rest of the way before coming to a stop once you reach a clearing that seems like nothing but marsh land. 

Until you’ve stepped out of the truck and walked around the back. Your eyes light up when you see a pond a little bigger than an EF3 filling the rest of the field. 

The moon and stars shine off the water, painting it in the darkest blue you’ve ever seen. Water lilies float along the top, with pickerelweed and cattails lining the edges. The crickets and lightning bugs add to the ambience of it all. 

“How did you find this?” You ask as he helps you climb up into the bed of the truck, where a blanket and pillows are already laid down. 

“Dex told me about it.” 

“You sap’s.” You say with a sweet smile, pulling him down to your lips. 

Tyler only further proves the sap allegations when he pulls out two of your favorite bags of snacks. His back leaned against the pillows, you leaning against him, his arms around you as you shared the salty and sweet treats. Your hand reaching back to feed him as you look up at the stars. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Tyler whispers against your lips when the snacks are gone, fingers licked clean, kisses pressed to lips, the mood changing until you’re naked and under him and his hips are thrusting slowly between your thighs. “So pretty,” he kisses you, runs his lips along your jaw, “perfect,” latch on the side of your neck, “my girl.” His words attenuated by his thrusts. 

His fingers are in your hair, at the back of your neck, and on your chest, playing with your nipples, squeezing a hand around them, and bringing his mouth to the pert bud. Teeth nipping at your collar bone, tongue licking between the space of your breasts, grunts against your ear. Fingers at your hip, against your clit—he’s everywhere. Consuming you. Pulling you apart, putting you together, slowly, gently, with a stroke, a touch, a kiss, a bite. 

Fucking you like it’s the first time. 

Fucking you like he has all the time in the world. 

Like he wants you to feel his love with every thrust. Every praise in your ear. 

Your fingers dig into his biceps, legs lifting and pressing against his sides, pushing him deeper inside you. Your breath heavy, your moans, sweet mewls, music to his ears. 

“Tyler,” you whimper against his shoulder. 

His arms bracket around your head, thrusts picking up when he feels your pussy tighten around his cock. “I know, baby.” His words are breathed into your ear, heavy and weak, letting you know he’s just as close. “Gonna come, you gonna take it like a good girl?” You nod, dig your nails into his back, reaching your peaks together. 

Tyler stays on top of you even after your breaths have evened out. His thumb runs along your cheek as he looks down at you. His smile is soft and filled with love. It makes your stomach flutter—something that hasn’t stopped since the day you met him. 

When he finally does pull out, neither of you move to right yourselves or head back. He covers you with another blanket he pulls from somewhere behind you. Your head against his chest as you look up at the sky. Tyler’s fingers playing with yours. A peaceful silence passes between you for what feels like forever, basking in each other. Listening to the bugs and frogs around the pond. 

“Marry me.” 

You chuckle softly, “your come hasn’t even dried inside me yet.” You joke. Don’t think twice about it; it hadn’t been the first time he had playfully asked you. Declared to the world that you would be his wife one day: in a tornado riding the high, saying he would make you his wife when you put your computer science degree to good use and ran better numbers than he could have come up with on his own. When you would have to travel home to visit family for a week and leave the crew behind, his arms squeezing you upon your return, saying the winds are dead, everything's dead when you’re not around, don’t leave again, marry me. 

So you don’t chalk it up to anything but that until you feel something cold slip onto your finger. Tyler brings your hand up so the moon is shining down on it, a pretty diamond twinkling in the moonlight. 

“Marry me.”

Your heart falling to the pit of your stomach as you rush to sit up. Your palm against your chest, your eyes wide, and staring down at your hand before whipping around to look at him. The smile on his face is to fucking die for. 

“Tyler.”

“Baby.” 

“Are you serious? Are you sure?” 

He laughs, reaches out for you, and pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been sure since the day I saw you.”

“That’s dramatic.” 

“Ask Boone,” he smiles. Stares down at the ring on your finger that you still have held up, “told him five months into us datin’ that I had a ring picked out.”

You chew on your bottom lip, try to hold back the tears that pool in your eyes. “That’s insane.” 

“If you want somethin’, you take it.” 

“You already got me.”

“And I ain’t ever letting go.” He grabs your hand, rubs his thumb against the ring on your finger. Looks at you with so much love that you think you could die from it and be just as happy as you are right now. “Will you marry me?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted something more in your life. 

“Yes.”  

“Yes?” He asks as if he’s surprised, his smile and laugh filled with a childish joy and happiness. Like a child finally getting a gift he had always wished for.

“Yes!” 

He grabs your face, kissing you. Kissing you until you are both laughing and it’s all teeth and someone's crying, and you’re not sure if it’s him or you or who’s shaking or cheering. 

“I love you,” he says. You can feel his heart pumping against the palm on his chest. His palms are hot against your tear stained cheeks. Thumb swiping loose droplets away. 

“More?” 

“More than anything.” 

You can’t even finish your little rhyme before kissing him again. Whispering that you love him back against his lips. This man was going to be your husband. This man who has completely taken over your life and swirled it upside down since the first day you saw him. 

This man who has shown you a new world. Given you new meanings of life. Given you a love that puts storybooks to shame. Given you a family that will only grow if the two of you decide on it, but is already so perfect the way it is. 

You couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but Tyler Owens. 

The next day, you obviously have to celebrate. 

The entire crew cheered and rushed you when the two of you had come home, and Tyler lifted your hand to the sky like you just won something. 

“Yes!”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ bout!”

“That’s ma boy!”

“Bout time!”

Boone spins you, Lilly is already mapping out the perfect location for the nuptials, and Dani and Dex are hugging and clapping Tyler on the back. 

So the next day is one big celebratory day. 

Dex prepares a breakfast so large that you all groan and sprawl in the living room while watching movies you have all seen a dozen times, aiding in your hearty meal putting you to sleep. 

A nice nap that has you all waking up more rested than before and spending the rest of the afternoon out on the water. Tyler and Dex grill the fish you caught when you come home.

Your legs in Tyler’s lap, all of you sedated and full, and laughing around the table afterwards until Boone comes through the screen door with two bottles in his hand: tequila and whiskey. 

“Oh no,” Lilly says, laughing against her hand. 

“Absolutely not.”

“You never mix light and dark, comin’ Boone, you know this!”

"Guys, we’re celebratin’,” Boone ignores everyone’s protests and grabs the shot glasses he was keeping for safekeeping in his pockets, apparently. Filling them up with tequila when he asks the bride to be which she wants, a big smile on his face. 

He slides yours and Tyler’s over to you, Tyler shaking his head with amusement written all over his face when you frown playfully and say, “Happy wife, happy life?” 

He sighs and pinches your legs, teasing, and grabs the shot glass. “I’m not helpin’ you off the roof this time.” 

Boone makes a face, and everyone clinks their glasses together, throwing back the liquor.

It’s the first of many shots that has you hours later playing some kind of drinking game that you forget the rules of, which then leads into Boone and Tyler accusing you and Lilly of cheating. Which then leads to the four of you settling it by seeing who can shotgun a beer faster. 

“You got this!” Dani pat’s Lilly on the shoulder like a fighter about to get into the cage. 

Tyler smirks down at you, “you sure ‘bout this, baby?” 

“Don’t call me that. You’re the enemy!” You put your hands on your hips and step up to him. Staring up at him in the most intimidating way you can, even though he could throw you over his shoulder easily in seconds. Your voice low enough for only him to hear you say, “we both know I’m really good with my mouth.” 

His teeth sink into his bottom lip. “Won’t argue with you there.” His thumb comes up and runs against your jaw, “let’s make a bet, alright? You win, I’ll show you how good my mouth is, and if I win, you show me.” 

You smirk, “deal.” 

Once the beers are handed out and the bottoms have been punctured, your thumb presses against the slit, and a glare shot over at Tyler. His grin never leaves his face, even when Dex and Dani yell go, and all of you are putting the bottoms of your beers in your mouths. 

Your gaze locks on his the entire time. Your mouth almost slips when his hand comes up to hold your can to your mouth better, his fingers squeezing, making you swallow faster. Finish faster. You and Lilly cheering when you win. 

A win that Tyler clearly aided in. 

A win he was more than happy to give you. 

And if you didn’t love having his mouth on your pussy, you would probably fight harder against him letting you win. But it’s hard to be mad when later he’s between your thighs, fingers spreading your pussy to give him even more access to your throbbing clit. 

Your hips guide his mouth where you want it, where you need it, and how you want his tongue to move against your clit. How you want his lips to suction against you. Tyler always listening to your body. 

Your fingers are messing up his hair, “why did you let me win?” 

He smiles around your clit, “I think I won.” He bites your thigh before turning his attention back to the part of your body he is fucking his tongue against, eliciting whimpers and moans from your lungs. Your back arching up from the mattress. 

Some nights are chiller than others. 

Some nights, you give your livers a break and hangout around the fire for hours. Dex telling stories, Dani and Lilly rolling Boone’s stash into tight blunts they share amongst those who want it. Boone lying in the grass, listening intently to Dex. You sat in Tyler’s lap, his fingers running along your legs. 

His fingers sometimes find the ring on yours, twisting it around. Making sure it’s still there. He smiles over at you and leans in for a kiss. 

The night is filled with a lot more laughs when three out of the six of you are baked and bring out the s’mores kit’s Lilly bought for each of you. 

“Six is a bit much.” 

“Uh, have you seen the way Boone eats?” 

“She’s got ya there.” Boone agrees as he tears into a burnt marshmallow on the stick in his hand. 

Tyler roasts you one, holds the stick while you happily eat the melted sugar. “Want some?” You ask, his answer comes in the form of placing his mouth over yours and kissing you until your mouth parts and his tongue runs along your bottom lip and into your mouth. 

“When you guys get married, will we see less of this?”

“More probably.”

“Less. They’ll have their own place by then.” 

“Ah, what? We won’t all be shackin’ up together?”

“Boone, they’ll be married.”

“They’re basically married now!” 

You laugh against Tyler’s lips, “ya’ll are losing your invites real fast.” He says turning towards them. 

“What did I do?” Dex asks innocently around a marshmallow. 

Some nights, it gets so hot that not even the cold from the lake can be whipped through the windows by the breeze. The trees still. The humidity heavy and sticky, making you wake up with sweat glistening on your skin.

The two fans blowing towards the bed useless. 

“Tyler.” You whine softly as you push his arm from your midsection. Can’t stand to feel the warm heat of his chest pressing to your back, mixed with the humidity filling the room. 

“Baby,” he says groggily. Putting his arm back around  your waist and pulling you close again.

“You’re going to give me heatstroke. How are you not dying?” You groan, freeing yourself from his grip long enough to remove your tank top and shorts before he grabs you again. More awake now than before. 

“The fans are goin’,” he says softly into your neck.

“They’re useless.” 

He chuckles, “want to go jump in the lake?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He hums, kisses your shoulder, doesn’t care that your body is coated in a sheen of sweat as his lips move to your neck, his hand cupping your cheek. He turns your head back to his. “I can distract you,” he smirks. Hips moving against your ass, his dick hard. 

“You’ll only make it worse,” you breathe when he bites the skin just below your ear. 

“Ya sure?” His other hand slips between the two of you, pushing your panties to the side and pulling himself from his briefs. “I don’t gotta put it in, baby.” He positions his cock so it’s rubbing through your folds, his tip moving against your clit, making you moan into his mouth. 

Ass pushing back against him, “I can make you forget all ‘bout the heat and focus on coming along, my cock.” When the slide of his cock becomes more slick from your pussy growing wetter, he grunts against your mouth. “See, your body has already forgotten about it. It needs somethin’ else.” You whine, wrap your fingers around his wrist. Moan in his mouth, “what’s it need, baby?” The tip of his cock teases with the slightest pressure against your entrance, your body bracing, craving the stretch, only for him to take it again. “What do you need, baby?”

“You,” you breathe. Look at him with hooded eyes, chin wobbling. 

“Say it again,” he grunts.

“I need you, Tyler.” His mouth twitches when he slides inside of you, his eyes watching as your eyes close in ecstasy. Nails digging into his wrist from the stretch of his cock. 

“It’s all yours,” he kisses you. Says your name when he lets out that shaky groan when he’s bottomed out. When your body shudders while trying to adjust. His voice a mumble against your skin when he asks you if you’re ready for him to move, if you can take it, if you want to take it, knows you can take it. Be a good girl, and take what you want, what you need; it’s yours.

He’s yours.

Infinitely. 

Unbound.

Always.

His.

[diejager]

4 when requests r open.. How wld u Feel abt a bear hybrid reader who’s slick is .. Honey ? 👁️

—🍯

Cw: weirdly sweet cum???, smut, oral sex, overstimulation, tell me if I missed any. Honey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours??

Perhaps you shouldn’t have eaten so much honey, the sweet goodness that you indulged in when it was given to you in abundance, a rare treat to normal bear but a common dish to you. You loved honey like Pooh liked it, always seen with a small jar and lips stained with the sweet treat, tasting as sweet as honey whenever they walked up to kiss you, pressing themselves so close to you and lips devouring any groan from you, tongue lathering your lip to taste the honey from it and steal a taste of you from your mouth.

Gaz and Soap had always liked the sugary taste of you, your honeyed lips, your honeyed tongue and honeyed mouth, every part of you was sweet, a sugary treat to men like them when you were a big and grizzled bear. A Kodiak bear with both size and strength, but a soft and tender heart, and even sweeter lips that Gaz loved kissing and biting whenever he crossed your path, pulling you by the collar and passionately kissing you. A gentle but powerful wave crashing against you for something as simple as a taste and affection, his hands wandering down and holding you against him by the waist. Soap was more eager than Gaz, rough and devouring with his kiss, chaining you to his body by the hips, hands teasingly grasping at your ass and grinding against you to instigate you, push you further into his arms.

Then you found yourself always so, so sensitive, your core spiking in a strong pulse, sharp and boiling. You blamed it on the Scot, who couldn’t hold his tongue after he ate you like a starved man, left to dry out and hunger without food or water, gorging himself on your now sugary slick, the old tangy and salty flavour turned soft and sweet as honey. He shared it with Ghost, who had manhandled you to his room, stripping you naked and spread over his cold sheets while his tongue laved across your slit, the tip teasing your clit with soft circles and dipped into your drooling cunt. He groaned and moaned at the taste of you, burying himself between your thighs, nose bumping your throbbing nub and tongue curling deep inside of you to pull more sweet slick from your warmth and down his throat. 

From Ghost, it reached Gaz, who’s ears practically perked up at the temptation, sliding from one darkened wall to the other until he found you in the rec room with a small cup of honey and a finger in your mouth. He was rather forceful - surprisingly strong against your bear-like strength - in his demand, bending you over the counter, ass upturned and head buried in your arms while you mewled and panted, left a victim to Gaz’s skillful tongue. The way he dove in and curled, swirling your sweet slick around his tongue and drinking it all in, his lips placed firmly around your fluttering hole, drinking your cum like he would water. 

The from him, Price was the last to be aware, ordering you to his office for a taste. You sent his papers and pens to the floor, your flaying arms knocking things over in your search for purchase while he held you down by the hip, groaning when you closed your thighs around his head and fingers pulling his hair, locked in and tugging him closer and closer. He murmured praises, complimenting you for your magical body —one of a kind, he said, to have one’s slick tasting like honey. 

They left you panting and limping, walking around the halls with a powerful throb between your legs after every servings, grumbling under your breath at their insatiable tongues. Perhaps you shouldn’t have made it a habit, now that they made it a show of stocking up your reserve of honey with bigger and larger containers, grins stretching the corners of their lips. 

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER EIGHT ━━ Old Times, New Times

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 3.8K

☆ ━ warnings: lowkey like none i think

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: i think you guys will hopefully like this chapter

THE BUZZER rings out loudly, signaling the end of the game. The roar of the crowd reverberates through the gym as Hopkins claims their first victory of the season, the scoreboard flashing their win by a significant margin. Paige stands in the center of the court, her breath coming in heavy pants, sweat dripping from her forehead. She’s exhausted, her muscles aching from the relentless pace of the game, but the high she feels is unbeatable.

This, she thinks, this is what she lives for. The rush of adrenaline, the energy in the gym, the way everything just clicks on the court. Basketball is where she feels most like herself—where all the chaos in her mind settles into the steady rhythm of dribbling, passing, shooting. And tonight, she’s played damn near perfect, putting up a stat line she knows will have the local papers singing her praises tomorrow.

But as her teammates rush to congratulate each other, as high-fives and fist bumps fly, there’s a small part of Paige that isn’t fully present in the celebration. A part of her that keeps pulling her back to the student section, where she saw Dani and Beau earlier, clearly mid-argument. How they’d stormed out of the gym together. Her stomach had twisted at the sight, but she forced herself to push it away. Focus on the game, she had told herself. Lock in.

Still, even in the heat of the action, her mind had wandered, wondering what they were fighting about, wondering if it would finally—finally—be the thing that made Dani leave him for good. Paige hates that Dani’s still with him after everything. Beau’s a walking red flag, and she can’t stand the way he treats Dani, the way Dani seems to dim whenever she’s around him.

But Paige can’t think about that now. The game is over, they’ve won, and she can finally let herself breathe.

She heads to the locker room with her teammates, the mood high and celebratory. The sound of laughter and chatter fills the space, everyone buzzing from the win, but Paige moves through the motions automatically. She showers quickly, letting the hot water wash away the grime and sweat from the game. Normally, she’d stay in a little longer, enjoy the post-game rush with her team, but tonight, she feels the need to get out. To clear her head.

Her body is tired, but her mind won’t rest. Thoughts of Dani and Beau—of that argument—are still there, swirling around in the back of her mind like an itch she can’t quite scratch.

By the time Paige is dressed and heading out of the locker room, most of the gym has emptied. It’s quiet now, the sounds of the game and the crowd just a memory. She walks through the empty halls of the school, her footsteps echoing off the tiled floors, and pushes open the door to the athletic entrance. The cold night air hits her immediately, and she pulls her hoodie tighter around herself, letting out a breath that fogs in the chilly air.

She’s ready to head home, eager to get some rest, but as she walks toward the parking lot, something catches her eye.

Dani.

(She always seems to just show up, doesn’t she?)

She’s sitting on a bench just outside the entrance, her phone in her hand, scrolling aimlessly. Paige slows her steps, confused.

She walks over, stopping in front of Dani. “Why are you still out here?” she asks, her voice cutting through the quiet of the night.

Dani looks up, startled for a moment before she shrugs, giving Paige a small, annoyed smile. Not annoyed at her, Paige knows, but at whatever situation she’s in. “I’m waiting for an Uber.”

Paige furrows her brow. “An Uber?”

Dani nods, a frustrated edge to her expression. “Beau left me here. He was my ride.”

Paige’s stomach clenches, and she can’t help the scoff that escapes her. “He left you here? Seriously?”

Dani just shrugs again, like it’s no big deal, but Paige can see the tension in her shoulders, the tightness in her jaw. She can tell Dani’s trying to play it cool, but Paige knows her better than that.

Paige shakes her head, exasperated. She sits down on the bench next to Dani, her knee brushing against Dani’s as she does. “Dan, you really need to break up with him. He’s such a dick.”

Dani lets out a small, breathy laugh, and when Paige looks at her, she sees the mix of frustration and resignation in her eyes. “I did,” Dani says quietly, surprising Paige. “That’s why he left.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Paige’s heart skips a beat.

Dani broke up with Beau?

“You broke up with him?” Paige asks, her voice coming out softer than she intended, almost like she’s afraid to jinx it.

Dani nods, looking down at her hands. “Yeah.”

Dani broke up with Beau!

Paige blinks, momentarily speechless. She’s been waiting for this—hoping for this—for months now, but hearing it still catches her off guard. “Um,” Paige starts, a small smile tugging at her lips, “I’d say that I’m sorry but…”

Dani lets out a laugh, real and unfiltered this time, and Paige’s heart swells at the sound. And then Dani smiles—really smiles. That wide, dimpled smile that Paige has known her whole life, the one that can brighten up even the darkest of days. It’s the kind of smile that makes Paige’s chest feel warm and tight all at once, like the sun is shining directly into her heart.

“I’m not sorry either,” Dani says, her voice light but firm, like she’s finally letting go of something heavy.

Paige can’t help but smile back at her, the weight of the moment settling between them. They sit there for a second, just grinning at each other, and for the first time in what feels like forever, things between them feel right. Like maybe they’re finally finding their way back to each other, even if it’s just a small step.

After a moment, Paige stands, gesturing toward the parking lot. “Come on,” she says, her voice soft but insistent. “I’ll drive you home. You’re not taking some stupid Uber.”

Dani hesitates for a second, but then she nods, standing up and following Paige to her car. They get in, the car warm and familiar, and for the first few minutes of the drive, it’s quiet. Paige’s hands grip the steering wheel, her mind racing with everything she wants to say, everything she’s been holding back for months now.

She glances over at Dani, who’s staring out the window, her expression unreadable. And Paige can’t help but wonder how Dani’s really feeling. Breaking up with Beau must be a relief, but Dani’s been so distant lately, so caught up in the mess her life has become. Paige’s heart aches, wanting to ask Dani if she’s okay, if she’s really okay, but she doesn’t want to push.

As they get closer to Dani’s house, Paige feels the question bubbling up in her chest, and she can’t hold it back anymore. “Uh,” she starts awkwardly, glancing at Dani, “do you wanna go get, like—milkshakes or something? Y’know, like how we used to?”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Paige’s heart pounds in her chest. She knows it’s a risk, asking Dani to hang out like old times, but she misses her. She misses their late-night milkshake runs, the way they used to laugh and talk for hours, the way Dani used to look at her like she was the most important person in the world.

They stop at a red light, and Paige glances over at Dani, her chest tight with anticipation. Dani’s face is hesitant, her brows furrowed like she’s unsure, and Paige’s stomach twists in worry.

“I know you’re scared,” Paige says quickly, rushing the words out, “and for good reason. But your dad doesn’t have to know. And this absolutely doesn’t have to be anything but two friends hanging out. I just—I just really miss you, Dan. You’re my favorite person.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Paige’s heart feels like it’s lodged in her throat. She’s terrified that Dani will say no, that things between them have changed too much. But then Dani turns to her, and there’s that soft, genuine smile again, the one that makes Paige feel like she can breathe easier.

“I miss you too,” Dani says, her voice quiet but sincere. She pauses for a second, and then she adds, “Let’s go get milkshakes.”

PAIGE PULLS into the Steak ’n Shake drive-thru, the familiar glow of the menu boards lighting up her dashboard. She glances over at Dani, who’s quietly staring out the window, and a soft warmth spreads through her chest. It feels so right to have her next to her again. Like no time has passed. Like they’re still the same two girls sneaking out late at night, pretending the world outside the bubble of their friendship doesn’t exist.

Without even thinking, Paige rolls down her window and rattles off their order. “One mint chip shake with extra cherries, and one oreo, no cherries.” She doesn’t need to ask Dani what she wants—she’s known Dani’s favorite shake for years. It’s muscle memory at this point, like breathing. Like basketball.

As they pull up to the window, Paige is already reaching for her card, ready to pay. But out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dani moving too. She glances over and spots Dani holding out her own card, handing it to Paige like she’s going to pay for their shakes.

Without even thinking, Paige lightly bats Dani’s hand away. “Fuck no,” the blonde says, her voice firm but teasing. There’s a smile tugging at her lips, and she sees the faintest flicker of a grin on Dani’s face, too.

It’s always been like this between them—Dani never pays when it’s just the two of them. It’s an unspoken rule, one that Paige has never let Dani break, and she’s not about to start now.

Dani rolls her eyes, but there’s no fight behind it. Paige takes that as a win as she hands her card to the cashier, paying for their shakes like she’s done a hundred times before. When the milkshakes come through the window, Paige hands Dani her oreo one without a word. They fall into the same rhythm they’ve always had—so familiar, so easy, even after everything.

Paige pulls out of the drive-thru, the weight of the milkshake in her hand a comforting reminder of all the nights they’ve spent like this. She doesn’t ask Dani where to go. She already knows.

The streets are quiet as they drive toward the park, the hum of the engine filling the silence between them. It’s not awkward—it’s never been awkward with Dani—but Paige can feel the undercurrent of tension, like they’re both waiting for the other to say something. She knows things aren’t the same as they used to be. Too much has happened. There are too many unspoken words between them now, things they haven’t figured out how to talk about.

But for now, they’re just two girls with milkshakes, driving to their spot like they’ve done a million times before.

When they pull into the small, empty parking lot of the park, Paige cuts the engine and takes a deep breath. The park looks the same as it always has—the swings gently swaying in the breeze, the picnic tables scattered across the lawn, the faint glow of the streetlights casting long shadows over the playground. It feels like a time capsule, like this place has been frozen in time while everything else in their lives has changed.

The chill of the November air hits Paige as she steps out of the car, but it’s the kind of cold she’s used to—the kind that cuts through her hoodie, making her breath visible in the night air. She pulls her hood up over her head and glances at Dani, who’s already walking ahead of her, sipping on her milkshake like nothing’s changed. Paige jogs a few steps to catch up, the gravel crunching under her shoes, and falls into step beside her.

For a moment, it feels like old times—just the two of them, side by side, no one else in the world. Paige’s stomach flutters, a mix of nostalgia and something else she can’t quite place. She watches Dani from the corner of her eye, noticing the small smile on her face, and that makes her heart feel a little lighter. The park, the milkshakes, Dani—everything almost feels normal again.

As they walk, Paige starts to playfully flick the straw of her milkshake in Dani’s direction. It’s subtle at first, but when she catches Dani glancing over with a raised eyebrow, Paige smirks and flicks it again, harder this time. A drop of mint chip shake lands on Dani’s jacket, and Dani laughs, pushing Paige away playfully. Paige grins, feeling a surge of warmth rush through her that has nothing to do with the cold air.

“Really?” Dani asks, wiping the spot with the back of her hand, but her smile is bright, the tension between them momentarily forgotten.

“Hey, I had to do something to get you to laugh,” Paige shrugs, though her grin doesn’t fade. Hearing Dani’s laughter after everything—it feels like a victory.

They keep walking, both sipping their milkshakes, the silence between them falling again but in a way that feels comfortable, like slipping into an old sweater. As they approach the playground, they veer off the path and head toward the spot that’s always been theirs—the platform above the slide.

Paige looks up at it, feeling a tug of memory. Dani broke her arm up there years ago. They’d been daring each other to jump from the platform, and Dani, being Dani, went for it. Paige can still remember the panic that gripped her when Dani hit the ground wrong, the rush to get her help, the way she held her hand the whole drive to the hospital.

Without speaking, they both climb up onto the platform, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. The slide is still there, worn and a little rusted from years of use, but the platform itself is solid. They sit side by side, their shoulders touching, and sip what’s left of their milkshakes, the breeze brushing lightly against their faces.

Paige glances up at the stars, her fingers grazing the worn wood beneath her as she breathes in the cold night air. The silence between them stretches out, but it’s peaceful. For the first time in a while, it feels like they’re both okay with the quiet, like they don’t need to fill it with words just yet.

Surprisingly, it’s Dani that breaks the silence. “This is nice,” she says softly, her voice cutting through the stillness.

Paige turns to look at her, surprised by the way Dani’s voice sounds—calm, thoughtful. Dani stares out at the neighborhood in front of them, the soft glow of streetlights reflecting off her skin. Paige hums in agreement, her eyes tracing the lines of Dani’s profile. In the moonlight, with the cold air flushing her cheeks, Dani looks beautiful—like, really beautiful. It’s not that Dani doesn’t always look beautiful, because she does, but there’s something about her right now that makes Paige’s breath catch.

Dani continues, her voice quieter now. “I… I thought I would feel, like, disgusting or wrong or… whatever hanging out with you. But I don’t.” Her words hang in the air, and Paige can feel the weight behind them. Dani turns to make eye contact with Paige, her eyes soft and vulnerable. “I missed this. I miss us. I miss you. And I’m really sorry that I fucked us up.”

Paige blinks, the words sinking in, and for a second, she doesn’t know what to say. She shakes her head, leaning forward just slightly, her pinky ghosting along Dani’s hand. The touch is small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there, grounding them both.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Paige says, her voice quiet but firm. “This wasn’t your fault.”

Dani shakes her head, her mouth twitching a little like she’s fighting a frown. “My actions did this. It is my fault.”

But Paige cuts her off before Dani can spiral further. “No,” she says, her tone sharper than she intended. She softens it, not wanting to scare Dani away. “None of this is your fault. We got caught in a shitty situation that we didn’t ask for.”

Dani’s gaze flickers away, like she’s not ready to accept that, but Paige can’t let her carry that weight. She can see it in Dani’s eyes, the way her lips press together in thought. There’s a sadness there, a self-doubt, etched into her features like something permanent. Paige hates it.

“Dan, you’re the best person I know,” the blonde murmurs, voice low. “This wasn’t you.”

For a second, Dani doesn’t respond. She just stares ahead, her milkshake abandoned beside her. Paige wonders if maybe she pushed too far, said too much. But then Dani opens her mouth to speak again, and Paige watches her blink rapidly against the wind.

“You… you say that,” Dani whispers. Paige thinks she sees her eyes swimming, the brown glistening with tears in the moonlight. “But all I ever feel now is wrong. They said they would fix me, but I’m still just as big a problem as I was before.”

Paige’s heart clenches, a dull ache spreading in her chest as she watches the tears gather in Dani’s eyes. She hates hearing her talk like this— hates the crack in her voice, the way she looks so defeated. Paige shakes her head, unable to hold back the frustration bubbling up in her.

“No,” she says firmly, her voice steady even though her insides are twisting. “You’re not the problem, Dani. You never were.”

Paige sees Dani bite at the inside of her cheek, seeing the indent, the Callan girl’s lips pressed into a tight line like she’s struggling to keep the flood of emotions at bay. Paige reaches out, her fingers brushing against Dani’s hand, softly interlocking their fingers. The touch is light, hesitant, but it’s enough to get Dani’s attention, her gaze slowly shifting back to meet Paige’s.

“They didn’t fix anything because there’s nothing wrong with you,” Paige continues, her words deliberate, each one meant to chip away at the knives Dani’s carved into herself. “You don’t need to be fixed. Dani, I promise you, you’re perfect.”

A tear slips down Dani’s cheek, followed by another, and Paige feels the weight of everything Dani’s been holding inside—the fear, the guilt, the shame that’s been festering. Dani’s shoulders tremble as she wipes at her face, her breath shaky as she tries to hold it together, but the dam has already broken.

“I don’t feel perfect,” Dani says, her voice cracking, and the raw vulnerability in her words hits Paige like a punch to the gut. “I feel different and terrible and I just—I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Paige tightens her grip on Dani’s hand, her fingers threading more firmly through hers. “Dan, you’re still you,” she whispers, leaning in slightly. “You’re still the same girl who made me laugh so hard I peed my pants that one time in sixth grade. You’re still the same girl who jumped off this platform and broke her arm just to prove a point. You’re still my favorite person. None of that has changed.”

Dani’s eyes meet Paige’s again, full of doubt, full of hurt, but something in them softens at Paige’s words. For a moment, it feels like the weight on Dani’s shoulders has lifted, even if just a little. She opens her mouth to say something, but the words seem to catch in her throat. Instead, she just trails off, staring down at their intertwined hands.

Paige watches Dani’s face, the way her brow furrows with stress, the tension visible in every line of her body. Without thinking, Paige shifts her hand, her thumb brushing lightly over Dani’s fingers, and then over the back of her hand. It’s such a small gesture, but it feels huge in the space between them—like a bridge connecting them after all the distance that’s been there for so long.

Dani glances down at their hands, her gaze lingering for a second before flicking back up to meet Paige’s eyes. Something shifts in the air between them—something delicate and fragile but undeniable. The words that were on Dani’s lips die, and for a second, everything just stops.

Paige’s breath catches, her heart pounding in her chest. She can’t help it—her eyes flick down to Dani’s lips, just for a moment. They’re so close. If she just leaned in…

So she does.

The kiss is slow, almost hesitant at first—barely more than a soft press of lips against lips. It’s tender, sweet, like the first snowflake that lands on the tip of your nose in winter. It’s not a kiss that’s meant to burn, to ignite anything wild or urgent. It’s soft, a quiet reassurance.

Dani doesn’t pull away. Her lips are warm against Paige’s, and for the briefest moment, the rest of the world falls away. Paige’s mind goes blank except for the feel of Dani’s mouth on hers, their fingers interlocked between them. The kiss is short—just a peck, really—but it’s everything to Paige.

Everything.

When Paige pulls back, her heart pounding in her ears, she opens her eyes and meets Dani’s gaze. Dani’s brows are furrowed again, the stress and conflict clear on her face. Paige can practically see the turmoil swirling behind Dani’s eyes—everything she’s been told, everything she’s been forced to believe, all crashing up against the way she feels right now.

Without thinking, Paige lifts her hand and gently smooths the crease in Dani’s brow with her thumb, her touch light but firm. “Hey,” she whispers, her voice soft as the night around them. She lets her thumb trail down, smoothing the lines of Dani’s forehead, trying to ease the weight of the world from her shoulders. Then, leaning in, she presses a soft kiss to Dani’s forehead.

Dani lets out a soft, shaky sigh, her breath warm against Paige’s hoodie, and then she leans her head against Paige’s shoulder. Paige wraps an arm around Dani’s waist, pulling her in closer, her chin resting lightly on top of Dani’s head. The world outside is quiet—the neighborhood is still, the stars twinkling above them in the crisp night sky—but all Paige can focus on is the warmth of Dani against her, the steady rise and fall of her breath.

They don’t say anything for a while. They just sit there, wrapped up in each other’s presence, watching the world around them. Paige’s fingers trace soft circles on Dani’s back, her head resting gently on top of Dani’s, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Paige feels at peace.

Eventually, Dani shifts, her voice quiet and hoarse from the tears she’s shed. “Thank you,” she whispers, her words barely audible.

Paige tightens her grip on Dani just slightly, her heart swelling. “Always.”

[norizz-nation]

Hi can you please do Daniel Riccardo x innocent Horner reader and he’s likes protective over you and like daddy x baby girl relationship please 🤍

Of course girl! This daniel bitch is always top tier 😩🤌🏼

Someone older ❤️

Summary: dating someone who was in your father, christian horner's team is something you never thought of. but things had to change when you both felt this tension and heat between the two of you

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, age gap (reader is 20), daddy kink, innocence kink, a bit possessive behavior, virgin reader, dacryphilia, praise kink, violence, size kink

You always saw daniel on the tv. You were probably 12 or 13 when he was in your dad's team. You even went to the paddock sometimes with your dad. daniel always treated you nicely. he's always so soft for you. he would always give you a tight hug whenever he met you.

but now, youre not 12 anymore. youve grown. just celebrated your 20th birthday. youre finally in your adulthood while daniel is a man now. he is so hot. so breathtaking. is it wrong? should you not feel the heat you feel everytime he comes a bit closer to you or when he catches you from falling, wrapping his arms around your waist? does he feel the same way? does he feel the love you have for him when you smile at his words or when he catches you staring at him? does he know that youre in love him? what if he doesn't love you? the age gap was so hurtful.

your mind started to wander in those thoughts as you were getting ready for the race. it was the australian grand prix. daniel's home race. you wore a long white sundress, exposing your collarbone perfectly. you knew that he loves the way you look in sundresses. how much angelic you look, how pure you look. to match the sundress you wore a floral choker with it. the choker was white with a glimpse of baby pink. you then finished doing your makeup and left with your dad.

the paparazzi's clicking thousands of picture every second as you smiled at most of the camera, trying your best not to be rude to them. "hey y/n! youre here after a really long time. how are you?" sergio said smiling at you. "i know, just wanted to be a nice daughter, right dad?" you said giggling as you looked at your dad. "i'll see you later love, take care. checo?" you dad called out as there was just 3 more hours left for the race. you then sighed a bit and went to max's garage for a little talk with him. after having a good talk you then sat there being on your phone as you felt someone tower in front of you. you looked up and saw daniel smiling at you. "hey daniel! how's it going?' you asked as you jumped up and hugged him. your hands around his neck. you had to stand on your tippy toe to do that. you let out a relieved sigh as your grip got tighter. so did his. "oh i missed you y/n" he said softly. his words made your heart beat faster.

you missed him too. do you tell him that? do you just tell him how much you missed him and kiss him? "y/n?" he called out as you snap back to reality. "oh thats so sweet of you daniel" you said as you pulled away from his touch. you brushed your hair out of your face as you tried to avoid eye contact. you were so confused on what to do as you took few steps back. "Whats wrong y/n?" daniel asked, being concerned as you shook your head, smiling awkwardly. "N-nothing daniel. I gotta go" you said as you left the garage. He was still standing there with a confused look on his face.

Your smile grew so big when you saw daniel on the podium. He was p1. Although your dad was having a hard time since max crashed his car with his teammate sergio. Both of them getting dnf. You were sad for them but seeing daniel on the podium was something so magical. You didn’t even blink, scared to miss a moment. You looked with an awe as you stood in the crowd. You couldn’t help but giggle when you saw him do the shoey and forcing charles and lewis too. It was crazy how daniel noticed you in the crowd and smiled at you as you smiled back at him. You knew daniel was gonna throw a party. He had to. It was his home race after all and he won.

You wore a black satin dress with black lace around your chest area. Your tits looking perky. You looked all over the place to find daniel, to congratulate him but you couldn’t find him. You sighed and went to the bar counter getting a drink as you saw a guy staring at you. You started to get uncomfortable as you tried to ignore him. That guy was about to say something but you quickly got up and went to the balcony. Leaning on the railing as you looked outside. You flinched as you heard the balcony door open as you turned around to look at who was there. Fuck. Again that guy. You rolled your eyes as you turned around again ignoring him.

"You didn’t let me talk that time. Im-" he said as you interrupted him. "I dont wanna talk! Please!" you said, sounding a bit frustrated. "Wha-what why?" he said as he got closer. You then took a few steps back. His hand grabbed your wrist tightly as you looked at him with furrowed brows. "What the fuck! Get your hands off me!" you shouted as you saw the balcony door open again. It was Daniel. Thank god.

"Whats going on? Y/n are you okay?" he asked as you felt the grip on your wrist to loosen. "Wow look the winner is here. How cute" that guy said as you tried to pull your hand away from his grip. Daniel's eyes got darker as he clenched his jaw eyeing that guy up and down. "Get. Your. Hands. Off" daniel said, his voice so cold. "What? No way, look at her. She's so fuckable isn’t she?" he said as you got more uncomfortable. Daniel then grabbed his collar as he looked furious, stopping himself from killing that guy now. "I said get your fucking hands off her or else you’ll fucking regret it i swear" he said as that guy smirked at him and the grip from your wrist pulled away but you flinched when you felt his hand on your arm, brushing it.

It didnt take much for daniel to punch him in the face. "Oh my god, daniel stop!" you shouted as you tried to pull him away but he was just too strong. That guys face was all bloody as you started to get scared. Your hands were shaking as you tried to pull him away. Daniel just didn’t stop. That guy was almost dying and that was scaring you a lot. "D-daniel please, stop. Please!" you pleaded. That guy's eyes were red by all the blood. You didn’t know what to do to stop him. So you just hugged him tightly as his aggression started to ease up. "fucking cunt" he said as his chest heaved up and down. You hugged him tightly as you looked at the guy who was almost dead, hoping he's not gonna die.

You were currently cleaning all the blood from his fingers and knuckles as you stayed quite. You didnt say a single word.

Do you mean that much to him? Do you mean something to him? Do you ask him all these? Do you just forget about the age gap and just confess your feelings?

Your mind went blank as you questioned yourself all these. Daniel looked up at you "im sorry y/n" he said. You didnt even look at him as you cleaned his bruised hand. “Im sorry i scared you” he said, his words were hurting you and you dont know why. “It’s okay” you said, sounding like a whisper. You sniffled as tears formed in your eyes. Daniel then stood up in front of you, looking down at you. “Y/n, look at me” he said as he cupped your face with his hand. You looked up at him, his eyes were so soft. His eyes were so concerned.

What if you kiss him now? Will it be too dramatic? Is it wrong? Will daniel kiss you back?

Your mind rushed through the thoughts. It felt like all your pain was gone as you felt daniel’s lip against yours. His kiss was soft yet hungry. It felt like you were gonna melt in his touch. His kiss felt so good. Daniel then pulled away, looking down at you as you furrowed your brows because of this reaction. You looked at him, waiting for him to say something. But he didn’t. His eyes said the words his mouth couldn’t. His eyes said that he wants you. “Is it wrong my love?” He said, hoping you’d say that it’s not wrong. You then smiled softly as you said, “No its not daniel. I’ve wanted you forever” comforting him with your words as you brushed your thumb on his beard. He’s so beautiful. “Do you want me?” You said daniel as your eyes never left his. Daniel then wrapped his arms around you as he smiled down at you, “always” he said as he kissed you again. This time it was more hungry. you moaned soflty in between the kiss. daniel then pulled away, letting a string of spit connect the lips of the two of you. "youre so beautiful baby girl" he said as you eyed you up and down. his thumb brushing your cheek bones and your bottom lip. "so pure and innocent for this cruel world, such a cute little baby girl" he said as you looked up at him, breathlessly.

daniel's hand roamed all over your body as he placed wet kisses every where. making sure you smell like him. "youre so perfect babygirl. fuck" he whispered as you squirmed at his touch. his hands brushed against your thigh as you bucked your hips up, just wanting his touch in that specific place. that was aching for him. "please, i want you, daddy" you whined out as daniel scoffed and let out a laugh. "aww baby girl youre that needy? youre that needy that youre calling me daddy?" he said as you shamelessly nodded your head. "well then my baby girl gotta beg properly" he said tauntingly. you whined as your head fell back. it was so intense that you were naked while daniel was fully clothed. "daddy please" you pleaded and daniel shook his head. "not that good, do it again baby girl"

you let out a frustrated sigh as you pleaded again, properly this time. "daddy please, i want you to fuck me, please" daniel smiled at you, being impressed as he kissed your forehead. "since you asked so cutely, then why not" he said.

you moaned out as daniel rubbed his tip on your clit. you were soaking wet. but just when he was about to push his dick inside your pussy, you stopped him. "daddy, i-im..." you didnt finish. daniel then cupped your face. "what is it baby girl hm? tell me" your cheeks grew red. "im a v-virgin d-daddy" you said softly, avoiding eye contact. daniel couldnt help but smile. "aww youre such an innocent little baby, arent you? so young and so innocent" he said as you bit on your lower lip. "dont worry baby girl, you'll like it. i'll make sure you love every single moment of it" he said kissing you softly. your pussy clenched as his dick went deeper inside of you. your head fell back as tears formed in your eyes. "fuck baby girl, you feel so good" he said groaning. his groans made your pussy clench more. "oh you like it when i talk to you like that huh?" he said smirking as you just nodded, since getting words out of your mouth was too much work. "f-fuck daddy its b-big, s-so big nghh" you moaned as you grabbed the bedsheets.

his thrusts were sloppier as your pussy got more wet. "fuck baby girl, what did i do to deserve this pretty little pussy of yours? youre doing so good for me. good girl" he said breathlessly. you shut your eyes as tears rolled down your cheeks. it was all too much for you. the guy you always fantasized about finally fucked your brains out. "i've been wanting your pussy ever since your 19th birthday baby girl, you looked so beautiful in that dress that showed every curve of yours, fuck" he groaned. "d-daddy im gonna c-cum, s-so bad!" you screamed out as daniel's pace didnt stop. "me too babygirl, me too" he said as his breath got heavier. you mind went blank as you felt your orgasm rush to you. you could think straight as you closed you eyes, trying to get down from your high. you then felt daniel kiss your stomach breathlessly. "youre so perfect baby girl, i love you" he said as you pulled on his arm signaling him to lay down beside you. you hugged him as you rested your head on his chest. "i should've said this earlier that i missed you too, i missed you so much. i love you" you said softly. his fingers brushed your hair as he kissed your head.

falling in love with someone older wasn't a bad decision. it didnt matter since you two loved each other a lot. and about your dad, christian? well you can just convince him later. but what if he doesnt like the fact that you're in love with the ex-redbull driver, daniel ricciardo? does that mean that you have to stop seeing him? will he hate daniel for being with you?

A/N: requests are open! feel free to ask what you want me to write! luv you ❤️

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Midsommar vs SPOP: Cults and Religious Trauma

i watched Midsommar recently and was struck by how subtle and nuanced the Hårga were, in comparison to the Intergalactic Horde. of course, i don’t expect SPOP to show the kind of brutal gore that Midsommar did, but what i’m talking about is the way these cults indoctrinated members.

Horde Prime just mind controlled everyone to follow his orders and praise him, and it just felt so immature, especially compared to the way SPOP handled some of the other deeper topics. you’re telling me they wrote an actually good manipulator in the form of Shadow Weaver, but couldn’t do the same for Horde Prime? cult leaders are supposed to be manipulative. they don’t just force you to join their cults because it’s so much easier to break out of it. no, what they do is they convince you that this is for your own good. they promise you support, community, happiness, peace. they especially target emotionally vulnerable individuals, because they are a lot likely to accept help from a large community who is seemingly just looking out for them and trying to help them out.

and this is what happens in Midsommar. Dani recently lost her entire family to a murder-suicide, and her boyfriend had fallen out of love with her at this point and he often manipulates and guilt-trips her whenever she points out his mistakes. she was overall extremely lonely and depressed, trying hard to repress her emotions for everyone else’s sake. this is the kind of person the Hårga were looking for. a lot of the audience didn’t even realize that Dani was being indoctrinated into a cult or that joining said cult was going to be very unhealthy for her. that’s how convincing the Hårga were.

Pelle especially seems like the warm, comforting figure that Dani needed, letting her open up about her feelings and listening to her, in contrast to Christian, Dani’s boyfriend, who was often preoccupied with other things, and didn’t even bother to remember Dani’s birthday. you almost root for Pelle and Dani to end up together, until you realize that he is also part of the cult and all of his empathy and compassion is just a clever way to manipulate Dani into trusting the Hårga.

the scariest thing about the Hårga is that they weren’t large, imposing figures with a god complex. they didn’t have a leader who ruled them with an iron fist. they were just a seemingly normal community with seemingly normal people who had fun rituals and celebrations, and seemingly supported and cared for one another. even after seeing two people die brutally, Dani was still manipulated into joining the Hårga because they took advantage of her trauma and her loneliness. she desperately needed actual support and a shoulder to lean on, something her boyfriend didn’t provide. so when the Hårga offered her that support, it was easy for her to believe that this community was exactly what she needed.

and i think SPOP could have pulled something like this off, especially with Catra. if they really wanted us to believe that Catra felt guilty about her actions, they could have gone a more interesting route. i mentioned this in a previous post but instead of Horde Prime chipping Catra, they could have shown him manipulate her and promise her that she can be absolved of all her sins if she joined him. instead of being all like “teehee i know you have a crush on adora, you gay kitty”, they could have shown him feed on her insecurities and loneliness, and promise her a happier future of she joined him, playing on her need for validation and affection.

and in a moment of desperation, Catra believes him. she has lost everyone at this point, so she accepts what little comfort is offered to her. and then it’s the writers’ choice whether to redeem Catra by having her come to the realization that worshipping a genocidal tyrant with a god complex is actually not going to help her become a better person, and that she was just repressing her guilt and convincing herself that this is the best option; or to have her stay and face a tragic ending of sorts. either way, i think it would have been better than what we got.

i know that Nate apparently struggled with religious trauma and guilt (according to a few posts i saw, at least) and i’m not trying to say that i know his experience better than he does. i just think the execution with Horde Prime was really off, and he was almost like a funny caricature of a cult leader, rather than a representation of an actual cult leader.

[adoriadreams]

Tysha and Mirri Maz Duur are two characters I feel like the fandom tends to erase the pain of in favor of the POV character (Tyrion and Dany).

Their not really viewed as people but an arc/character development for Dany and Tyrion and the more I think about it the more I hate it.

Tysha was raped and abuse by Tywin, she got no justice, but that's all glossed over in favor of highlighting how unfairly Tywin treats Tyrion and his hatred for his son, and Tyrion's trauma. No doubt the event was traumatic for Tyrion but the way people choose to only focus on Tyrion's trauma while ignoring Tysha is disturbing and disappointing. I have also seen people shipping them and wanting a reunion and for them to marry again but let's not forget Tyrion abused her. He raped her. Yes, Tywin forced him but it still happened and Tysha doesn't deserve to relive that trauma so Tyrion can find peace and redemption.

Mirri was raped, abused and witness the murder and rape of her people but that's all glossed over as well in favor of highlighting Dany coming into power. Beating her first 'Villian' and dealing with her first 'Betrayal'. Mirri did not owe Dany any loyalty because Dany saved her by making Mirri her slave. At the end of the day a slave is still a slave, even if their master is kind. The fact that people villianize Mirri for something they would praise Dany for is telling enough. And the fact that they think Mirri should be ever grateful Dany 'saved' her is disturbing. Also Mirri was still abused even after Dany 'saved' her. The idea that Mirri did something villainous by rebelling( killing Drogo. Still have no proof she actually did it) against her master is the idea that slaves have no right to rebell/desire freedom. The fandom perception around Mirri Maz Duur is disappointing . (Maybe it's the way GRRM wrote it or maybe it's because the fandom is mostly white.)

Justice for Tysha and Mirri Maz Duur.

I rambled alot in this one.

[leoisstillalive]

wipppppppp

——— 2022, Valencia, Spain

Marc knew who it was that slipped him the note. Well, perhaps not who, but what. There was no blistering yellow shirt or hat or lanyard, no discreet label that could have traced the man back to Valentino, but his words were laden with that familiar secrecy.

Not of one he was trying to tell Marc, nor withhold from him, rather the resurfacing of a secret they shared. Through the haze of the painkillers, Marc only caught a few of his words— they were enough.

“If… need somewhere to go… call.”

Marc was unsure how much the man knew, unsure how much anybody knew. People were bound to have made assumptions about certain things- lingering gazes, shuffling to the corner of a room to watch the undulating waves of other riders and giggle quietly, touches— touches and touches and touches. 

That was something Marc could never forget- the touches. Valentino was a good actor, he could hold a gaze and keep most of the vitriol from seeping, red and bloodshot and venomous, into his eyes when they met across the room or in a press conference. But his touch was unmistakable. Biting like frostbite; molten. Cutting and soft. He could not disguise himself in his touch, he could not lie.

When they first met, his skin was cold on Marc’s hand, smiling cheek cold against Marc’s own, but warming. Not like velvet or youth, but as if it were brimming with lukewarm blood, curiosity and caution. Marc had known about Valentino’s rivalries, known about his fears. He knew damn near everything about him. He could handle it.

2014 was all hot. It was wet, breathing like an open door, drawing Marc in— and Valentino. They both seemed to sink, mingling and morphing in their gilded bedroom- a King and his bride, with their audience of onlookers consummating their wedding. It was an exhibition, two gods toying with their inferiors, laughing at Jorge’s play at keeping up with Marc, pitying Dani- the wasted crown prince, running hands under shirts and taking each other apart in cheap hotel rooms. 

It was only them, even when it wasn’t. It was as if the world bowed its head to allow them their honeymoon.

Marc did not let himself think about 2015.

He was sure most people did not assume much about the nature of their relationship in those years, however. Men got close in deadly games, like war, like disaster.

Perhaps a few caught on: Uccio, of course, and Álex, despite Marc’s short-lived protest, maybe Santi, maybe that quiet little boy that used to follow Vale around. With the baby fat cheeks and thoughtful eyes, red cap low over his forehead.

Marc pondered Pecco, how he must have endured the brunt of Valentino’s fury at Marc- more than the other Academy students, because he was there. He had won the championship, so maybe he learned something from the hatred that Marc never could.

“He could forgive you, you know,” Was another thing the man had said.

Another tell. 

“If you went to him.”

And Marc wasn’t sure that was entirely true. Valentino understood forgiveness, he understood it very well. Enjoyed the sharp cruelty with which he could dish it out- brutal, fatal like a god. With a fist.

He had forgiven his rivals- Casey, Sete, Jorge, maybe even Biaggi. He had forgiven them graciously, as a master pouring gravy into his weakest dog’s bowl. And Casey had come to the ranch, lapping it up, Sete had visited Vale’s garage, Jorge as well. They had taken turns licking at Valentino’s chin, albeit with their own grim pride, but still forced into a sort of deference. 

And he was praised for his mercy. They called it good sportsmanship.

Marc wanted to spit. 

[orphic-musings]

The pain we wrought from words unspoken…

Characters: Karlach x gn! reader, Wyll x gn! reader, Halsin x gn! reader, Aylin x Isobel, Bex x Danis

Genre: Angst, fluff (but not for you)

Warnings: hurt no comfort, misunderstandings, spoilers for the end of act 2, implied reference to death (character)

Summary: After an arduous battle everyone is celebrating and taking a much needed reprieve. Except you, whose heart has a hole that is home to loneliness and grief. Is there no one to comfort you?

Notes: Omg i am back and with a BALDUR’S GATE FIC!?!!??! yes i have been taken by this game too and it has me in a chokehold and forced me to write for it. im sorry it had to be angst it makes me so sad maybe i will write comfort pt. 2 if people want it! pls enjoy :-) (sobbing) lemme know if i missed any warnings also not proofread aha

Karlach:

Aylin had her arm around Isobel the whole night. You recall earlier how she had lifted Isobel into the air and spun her around, nothing but mirth and pure love in her eyes. The action had brought a genuine smile to your face. To see something so joyful and pure after so much torment and toil was a gift, an uplifting you didn’t know you needed. But it came with a bittersweet pang. Everyone was busy chatting away at camp, spirits were high as everyone had a much needed moment of reprise after the defeat of Ketheric. Though you still wore a smile, your heart faltered.

“Holding up, Soldier?” A warm and familiar voice appeared behind you, and you turned to be met with an equally warm smile. You nodded, returning the smile, a genuine one.

“I’m so glad to see everyone reunited and safe, it seemed like such an impossible reality before, but now….” You turned back to the Selûnite couple in a loving embrace as your sentence trailed off. Karlach’s eyes followed, but then she looked at you. Your eyes were faraway, and your smile seemed almost sad.

“Alright there?” She asked, concern in her voice. Ever conscious of the feelings of others, she could pick up on any hint of bitterness or longing in others. She knew it all too well.

“It’s just, seeing all this love… I should be so happy, I am! But it still hurts. It must be nice to mean that much to someone.” You didn’t face her as you spoke. Despite your calm voice and your content, peaceful face, she sensed a deep hurt behind your words. Her mouth opened, and her hand instinctively reached out to grab your shoulder, but she stopped.

You mean so much to me, I cherish every moment we spend together. I could forget myself in your smile, forget the world in your eyes. Just one look at your face can quell all my rage. I would spend every hour I could with you, I would not hesitate to defend you and protect you. I want to be with you. Is what she wants to say. But instead she turned away with a solemn silence of her own.

You didn’t react to her silence, times are hard, and love seemed like a luxury. You stood like a statue as she slipped away, mourning internally her prescence, as she ripped herself from your side unwillingly.

Fighting Zariel’s war was easier than fighting her feelings in that moment. But any moment could be her very last. For someone who would rather live and die in the present, fully and without regrets, she feels a hypocrite. But imagining the hope of being with you, the joy you might have from knowing how much she needs you and cherishes you, was too much to bear. She couldn’t stand the thought of taking that all away from you. It’s a lesser evil to keep it from you, to keep it from herself, in the first place, than to have fate cruelly crush it all. At least that’s what she told herself as she faced the wall of her tent, away from your own dejected form, with hot tears in her eyes.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Wyll:

It seemed a miracle that you managed to save all the tieflings, and the gnomes on top of that. And even more so to defeat Ketheric Thorm, and at last promise safety and rest to all in the shadowlands. But any praise or recognition went over your head as you reeled in the aftermath. It felt surreal, and almost like it happened too quick, and you were still having trouble processing it. Even as you walked around Last Light Inn to rejuvinate your mind.

“You’re alright! My gods you’re alright!” You heard a voice call, and as you rounded the corner you saw two Tieflings in a tight embrace. You recognized Danis as one of the prisoners you had rescued, and pride swelled in you momentarily. As you watched the reunion in tender delight, you failed to notice a presence join you.

“A joyous sight. It makes me feel better about all the toil thus far.” Wyll’s voice spoke beside you, smooth and clear. It made you smile, even as you felt the sweet atmosphere waver, threatening to leave behind a cold emptiness.

“A shame it seems so scarce these days.” You said, watching the couple wander off into the warm inn. His face fell as he noticed the melancholy in your gaze.

“Indeed. I only hope those who have love, and hope, hold onto it dearly.” You merely stared off into the distance, unmoving and unresponding. It wrenched his heart, but he remained with you. It somehow felt like the least, and the most, that he could do. He wished you would turn to him, so he coukd see the light reflected in your eyes. But you couldn’t, for the price of love and hope was one too high for you to pay, in your mind. And despite your proximity, there was a perceptible distance between you.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Halsin:

The camp was brimming with relief, chatter sounding from every corner as parties discuss the aftermatch of the fight at Moonrise towers. Many people had joined you after the fight, since it had really only begun, and your companions had proven themselves capable of leading the cause. But you were mostly grateful for the presence of those who had helped you make it that far, namely the archdruid of Emerald Grove. Halsin was relieved, and content as well. He had fulfilled his century long quest, and the lands were now safe. And so were you.

“What now? You’ve got what you wanted, after all.” You asked, unsure if he would stay now that his task is finished.

“I have. But perhaps there is more that I want.” He replied, a smile on his face. You felt the warmth of his words, and you almost let it invade your senses, but you shook it off. Curiosity threatened to get the better of you, even if you werenmt sure you wanted to know the answer. But before you could stop it the words had left your mouth.

“What is it that you want?” He paused to glance at you, the smile never having left his face.

“Not what,” he began, his gaze shifting past you, “but who.” He let out a sigh after that, like it was good to get it off his chest. But your heart fell. You had known you shouldn’t have asked, but you needed to. Just in case of that small possibility.

“Ah.” Is all you managed in reply. After a beat of silence you turned and left abruptly, the intense beat of your heart felt like it was punching your ribs. Halsin’s smile faded as he watched you walk away. Had he said something wrong? No, he realized, he had merely misread the situation. You didn’t feel the same way, you couldn’t have. He felt silly in that moment, and laughed it off as he had done with the other rejections in his life (though they were few). But he could not shrug off the pain that wrenched his heart.

The next day the camp felt uncertain again. Comforting, yes, but uncertain. The party would be on the road again, and many things could change until they next made camp again. But the heaviest thing hanging in the air was your silence, your distance. It was to be expected, he reasoned, after the awkward encounter, but he hoped it didn’t mean you couldn’t still be friends. The very thought caused his throat to tighten.

But you couldn’t even bear to look at him. Of course such an experienced, handsome and capable man such as him wouldn’t have a soft spot for you. Thinking about it now made you ill. You couldn’t be near him, because all you thought of in his presence was how lucky someone else was to have him. And as you journeyed down the road to Baldur’s Gate, your distance grew. So much that it caused an uncomfortable wedge in the group, a palpable bitterness that soured the air.

Every night sorrow would muster in the two tents on far sides of the camp. Frustration, tears and regret proliferated there in those moments, planting seeds of woe to be reaped when the dawn broke. And the cure for sickness was only right where they dare not look.

[horizon-verizon]

Stark and Hightower fans accusing House Targaryen of colonizing Westeros are beyond parody. Starks descend from the First Men and Hightowers from the Andals and both of these groups committed genocide against Westeros’ actual indigenous inhabitants, the Children of the Forest. They either slaughtered them or forced them further North and destroyed their sacred trees, causing their physical and cultural destruction in the process.

LAND BACK FOR THE CHILDREN OF THE FOREST! LEAF AS QUEEN IN THE NORTH!

I wrote about these way back when HotD premiered or so: HERE and HERE to start.

this insistence on letting Starks and other FM-Andal families' historical accountability mean less or not exist at all while having the Targs have it is very stupid and comes from seeing the Targs as too "Other". Which comes from and is layered with hate for Dany, as people try to use her father's Targness/Valyrianness as the primary and innate reason for why he was so unhinged. So Dany-as-ruler can be undermined or straight up negated bc they can't stand the idea of a woman with prime authority or power and being able to wield it better and more ethically than the myriad of men and some patriarchally-praised/approved women (ahem, Helaena or Alicent) can.

Ironically, this is exactly how colonizers, racist, xenophobes think. The Starks, etc. are "good" or it doesn't matter what they did in the past bc "it was so long ago"...but Daenerys and many Targs are either/both will always be responsible, must be reviled by an and all "moral person", are the only ones the narrative seeks or is actively giving karmic consequences for what their ancestors did what their ancestors did (and anyway, the Targs never even colonized any part of Westeros ever, as "conquest" =/= "colonize"!) somehow the institutional feudalism the Starks participated in and flouted for centuries is copacetic; the wars and lives they took just for conquest an domination sake, the very same feudalism that the Targs hadn't practiced and that those people hold them alone responsible for? They're cool with the Starks doing it. Ha!

[brothermoth]

I'm reading Game of Thrones and watching the show at the same time just to compare...and honestly I think the show really fucked up from the start.

The books are a perfect example of empowering women in a historical setting. There is much less on page sexual assault than in the show. For example: Daenerys is a 14 year old girl married to a 30 year old man for the sake of her brother's political gain. It's horrible, and yet it's the most free she has ever been. She verbally consents to sex on her wedding night (she's a minor and it's always inappropriate but I would like to express that there was no age of consent in the past. This series is based off the medieval period which frequently saw girls married to older men; the fact that he even ASKED for her consent is very indicative of respect for her) and Khal Drogo is gentle with her, not forcing her into it or harming her. He touches her hair, asks her if it is something she wants (despite the language barrier the intent is clear). GRR Martin has genuine empathy and respect for the women he writes. They are people, good and bad and making the best of the world around them.

As a history student and a feminist I think ASOIAF is easily one of the greatest examples of genuine historical empowerment. I can tell Martin is very knowledgeable about powerful women of history and has gone out of his way to examine the social climate of early medieval Europe. For a middle aged man he's done an absolutely admirable job of it.

Cersei is a terrible person, but the narrative has sympathy for her. She is married to a man who gave her power but only a shell of it. He openly laments not having been able to marry Lyanna Stark in front of his wife and berates her and insults her in public. Her actions are awful but Martin's writing asks you to wonder: is she so wrong? Her husband is lucky she didn't kill him YEARS ago. Everyone would have been better off if she had. Yes she fucks her brother which is...which is deeply uncomfortable, but there's psychological implications to the action. Her brother is the only person who genuinely cares about her. He says openly that he loves her when nobody else does. It's very Freudian I hate when that man is right.

I'm only about halfway through the first book but considering I'm late to the party I do know like half the plot points that are yet to come. Despite being put in an awful situation, Dany MAKES something of it. She finds a confidence and position that she never would have had otherwise. That is how many women lived in history. They were married off like chess pieces on a board and yet they etched their names into history books because of it. Her brother sold her for his own benefit, but in the end she is the one who got a throne, not him.

I adore the way Martin works with symbolism and that sense of foreboding that he builds up before any main characters even start to die. He's a really underrated writer, dropping hints for plot points that don't come about until BOOKS later (and years, he's slow as molasses). The show is interesting and all but the books deserve praise far more.

[sterakraffulz78]

This is hilarious and fateful

I saw the episode, and I never really thought that wasting time like this would be a suffering that lasted too long. I'm going to get good and bad things from what I saw

first for good, okay?

1. The deaf imp

In itself, I was very surprised by this character and to tell the truth I can consider him better than the other deep and sad Pseudos that only serve to make the panties get wet because of the Fujoshits, and it is something that in this program is seen very little or is scarce in Yes, it made me tender that Fizz treated him well.

2. Fizz and Asmodeus' relationship

What can we say, the relationship itself is healthy, and superior to many of both series and when Asmodeus protected Fizz it is something nice on his part, not like a certain owl who is only interested in the red cock who is a tremendous fucking creep unable to defend his """"little""", this relationship is one of the few salvageable things in this series

Now with the bad things

3. The songs

For the love of God... why? All the songs seem forgettable and super stupid to me, it seems that the only thing this chapter does is create time and necessary filler that will never contribute or amount to anything

4. The imp hater by fizarolli

This was expected, it doesn't surprise me much to tell the truth... just imagine that you are so hurt by harmless criticism of your program that you only hope for a good change and to be guided to do a good deed, but you prefer to spend and overexploit the Poor workers who only want some money to encourage your resentment in a lively way, this is ridiculous and makes others feel sorry for Viviana Medrano

5. Mammon

This is the first most annoying, loudest and most obnoxious thing I've ever seen followed by Chaz, the only thing he knows how to say is pure rudeness in every damn sentence, it's a fucking audiovisual blister that seems to never end, apart from the cringe I feel about it, the Deadly sins of this show will never be taken seriously and more that sexist phrase about "Women are not funny" and then you're dead... Damn you Medrano bitch, can't you at least respect a simple woman even if she has a tertiary role in your shitty program? (And ironic why you make penis jokes and swear words to wait for someone to laugh and praise you)

6. I HOPE THEY FUCK YOU BLITZ

Is it really necessary to put Blitz in every episode? For the love of God, am I already sick of listening and seeing that red cringe guy making those embarrassing faces and hearing his voice why can't I listen to Brandon normally anymore without remember this abusive and manipulative guy swearing!? They shoehorned this guy in just to get "laughs" and make him stick to Fizz when he was given the biggest tragedy of his life

7. Good vs bad, hAha ​​tHeY aRe RiGht wHy tHEy aRe nExT To thE bOyS aNd uwu sOfT

As always, our wonderful writing writing the bad characters, like the black ones in this Turkish soap opera and making them caricatures for mockery and portraying them as the soft boys and uwu the good ones. These characters are already predictable, if there is a soft and sore young gay uwu, he will be the good one because he is the soft and sore young gay uwu and we are all forced to take his side, while those who have the potential to be good villains like Striker, you position them as silly, cartoonish and you are the generic antagonist of a series for children under 6 years old, for example Asmodeus against Mammon

It's good that the views are getting lower and lower, so soon we won't be able to stand this series in decline and the next more ridiculous, repulsive, mediocre, cringe and pathetic chapter written by a ridiculous, mediocre, cringe, pathetic, misogyny, sexist, Transphobic , racist, xenophobic writer who only ruined her own work so that her little friends the Fujoshits (I already saw you SatorRojas, TeaTheKook and Dani) get their panties wet and buy more panties again to get them wet because they can't stand two boys together

[domripley]

Dani Ardor NSFW Alphabet

pairing: dani ardor x reader

warnings: switch dani, switch reader, mentions past toxic relationships, mentions past dani/christian. also mention sexual content such as cnc and piss kink.

a/n: i do not like christian but i dont believe he deserved what happened to him. not talking about the bear suit.

edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰🩵

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Dani is very caring, and as soon as you’re all cleaned up, she loves to cuddle with you. She’ll order food and watch a movie with you until you both fall asleep. Dani also loves to know how good she did, even when she’s domming. She will either order you food or make you something while the two of you watch movies. If you need space to clear your head and relax for a bit, she’ll give you space.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Dani loves her thighs, especially since you love to grind against them while you beg her to touch you. She also loves when you run your tongue on them before eating her out, to tease her. On you, she loves your fingers. She loves feeling them inside of her and how good they make her feel. She also loves sucking on your fingers.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Dani loves coming in your mouth and on your fingers. She’ll clean them off for you; Dani loves tasting her own cum. When Dani is fucking you, she loves when you come on her strapon as well as her fingers.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dani doesn’t really have any secrets, she’s told you everything and anything she’s either done or thought about.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Dani has a bit more experience than you thought she did at first. She knows what she’s doing when it comes to topping and domming. When she first started bottoming, you had to help her out a bit.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Doggy. She also enjoys spooning, especially when she’s fucking you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Dani is serious ninety percent of the time, especially when she’s topping. When she’s bottoming, she isn’t too serious unless you are.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Dani will shave occasionally, but she’s not too concerned about it. Sometimes she’ll go months without shaving.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Dani can be romantic. She’ll light candles and cook you a dinner before she fucks you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Dani loves to masturbate, especially when she’s doing it with you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Dani is into a lot of things when she’s domming. Spanking, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, spitting, she has a piss kink, choking, anal, cnc. She also loves degrading you, as well as praising you. She also loves mutual masturbation.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Dani prefers to fuck you in the bedroom and that’s it. She doesn’t like to risk being caught.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You are her motivation. Dani can just look at you and all she can think about is bending you over and making you come over and over.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that is uncomfortable for you or her. When she’s bottoming, she doesn’t really like anything kinky except light hair-pulling. She prefers to do things that are kinky when she’s topping/domming.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Dani prefers to give oral, but since being with you she’s been enjoying it a lot more than before. She realized that Christian was just bad at it, instead of her not liking it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Dani prefers a faster pace with you when she’s topping, but she prefers slow and softer sex when she’s bottoming.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Dani enjoys quickies, but she prefers to take her time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Dani is always down to try new things with you, but she gets excited when you want to try things she’s already done.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

When Dani is topping, she can go about three rounds with water breaks in between. When she’s bottoming, she usually goes two rounds before she wants to top you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Dani owns a lot of toys. Everything from butt plugs to handcuffs to rope to dildos. Dani loves buying new toys with you at stores.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dani loves to tease you. She’ll whisper in your ear, telling you how much she wants to fuck you or how much she wants you to fuck her. She’ll rub your thigh or your arm lightly. If she’s topping, she’ll whisper that you’re her good girl.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Dani is loud when she’s bottoming; but when she tops, she grunts, praising you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

At the beginning of your relationship with Dani, she would only top. Now - a year in - she’s able to relax more and trusts you enough to let you top sometimes.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Sometimes Dani packs when the two of you go out. She loves doing it when you least expect it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Dani’s sex drive is a lot higher now that she’s with you and your relationship is a lot healthier than what it was with Christian.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dani doesn’t fall asleep quickly if she’s the one topping; she usually stays up for a few hours after she’s done. If you’re the one topping, she falls asleep rather quickly, especially when your arms are wrapped around

[drivinmeinsane]

Leap of Faith

※ Sierra Six ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: What if the escape mission had gone a little differently? No outcomes are certain. No one is impervious to fault.

※ Rating: M for mature themes of suicidal idealization and death. 

※ Content/Tags: Suicidal Idealization, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt No Comfort, Found Family, Suicide Attempt, Character Death

※ Word count: 4,938

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Lloyd's moves did not, in fact, fuck.

Sucking in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment, the Sierra Agent steels himself. The doorknob is firm under his hand, sturdier than he feels right now. He is not sure what he is going to find behind the double doors. Is he too late? Is he going to turn the knob and open the antique door to see the bodies of his family cast aside on the floor like abandoned dolls? Lloyd does not seem like the type to treat his toys with consideration. He did not exactly come across as a beacon of patience during this entire ordeal, more like another rich kid who breaks things when he gets mad because his gilded parents will get him another. 

Six does not allow himself to continue mentally circling the drain. He forces himself into a state of blind optimism. He has to believe he is going to succeed. A defeatist attitude will get them all killed. 

Pushing the door open, he is greeted by the sight of Fitz standing in the middle of the room and prepared for trouble. Six feels his knees go weak, and he winks in lieu of a verbal hello, not trusting himself to speak just yet. There is no time to relax, to take a breather. He has to get his family out of here before Lloyd realizes that the building has been breached. His own body is also a factor. It is an hourglass counting down the minutes. Instead of sand, he is keeping time with blood. Their would-be assassin had not been as much of an amateur as Six had let on to Agent Miranda. 

“Attaboy.” The retired handler praises, his relief palpable. 

Claire let out a laugh from where she is crouched at the side of the bed. The scrawny preteen stands up and Six’s eyes rapidly scan her. She is unharmed, Greasy and exhausted, yes, but unharmed. Fitz had kept her safe in the agent’s absence, now it is time for Six to take up the task and see them through to the end. 

“Fitz,” he says and brushes past to check the window. Dani is running Lloyd’s personal ragged outside. All eyes are on the woman racing across the grounds. He is unspeakably grateful for her. If she hadn’t picked his sorry ass up and taken him to Prague, he would have failed long ago.

“You able?” He asks Fitz, closing the curtain and turning away from the window. 

“Well, I can walk, but, uh, missing a wing,” he responds bitterly and raises his bandaged hand. Of course Lloyd would be a fingernail puller. 

“Can you wiggle your finger?”

“With this wing,” Fitz says and raises his right. Mercifully intact.

“That’ll do.” He pauses and looks at Claire, “You okay?”

“Took you long enough,” she grouses, watery despite the chiding words. 

“Sorry about that. My flight was delayed.” There is no heat to his voice. He would have gone down in countless burning planes if it ensured the girl’s safety.

“I knew you’d catch another one.” Fitz sounds apologetic. 

The sound of steps in the hallway outside gets his attention. They are no longer alone. Lloyd has caught onto the diversion that he and Dani cooked up before they ambushed the sentries. They are out of time.

“Put these in your ears,” he instructs Claire quietly, making sure she takes the offered pair of earplugs from his hand before lifting his gun into a ready position. He fires off a line of shots into the wall. Groans and heavy thuds signal that the bullets meet their mark. One of the assailants falls against the door, pushing it further ajar. 

“You ready?” 

Fitzroy nods and ushers their charge in front of himself. He will watch her while Six keeps the way clear. They have an unspoken agreement that regardless of the consequences, Claire must be escorted to safety. The two adults are disposable, she is not.

Hooking his gloved fingers around the door and pulling it open, Six cautiously sticks his head into the hallway. No sign of any living problems. He beckons for Claire and Fitz to follow him. They stay close to keep Claire sandwiched securely between them. Both of them tell her to not look down as they step over the bodies and creep through the building. Gunfire and shouts echo in the distance.

The agent nearly jumps out of his skin when feels Claire grip onto the back of his belt. He can feel her trembling despite the thin connection. Tremors aside, she is brave. He wishes that she did not have to be, that she was not even cast into this impossible situation to begin with. It is not fair. She is even younger than he was when he was arrested and charged as an adult for the murder of his father. 

They make it onto the bridge before things really start to go to shit. Six considers their options. The bridge does not afford them much choice. Lloyd and his cronies would be able to meet them at the bottom of the steps or else pick them off like animals in a trophy seeker’s canned hunt. The water is the only possible route. They will have to jump and swim for their freedom. He can see a boat in the distance. It can serve as their escape vehicle until they get to the edge of the moat and proceed on foot. 

“Okay. Do you have a plan, or are we improvising?” Fitz sounds a little labored. His hand must be hurting him. Who knows what else Lloyd did to him during his captivity. Six will have to wrestle the older man into an examination once they are out of here.

“Yeah, I got a plan. You got your swim trunks?” He smooths his worry with a joke. He has a bad feeling about all of this.

Gunfire from the bridge running parallel to theirs pushes them along. He hears Fitz telling their girl to keep going, to stay low. Six covers them, does his damnedest to make sure that neither member of his family gets injured. They take a rest against a pillar while Six checks their escape route again. No changes. Lloyd must be confident that he has them cornered. Conceited asshole, he thinks callously. 

Speak of the devil and he will make himself known. Six hears Lloyd scream from the other bridge. He is able to make out something about destroying a historical building. He is of the opinion that if Lloyd really wanted to keep the structure intact, he would not have made it the prison for the two people Six cares about the most in this world. There is not anything on this earth that he would not tear down if it meant saving them.

“All right. Let’s get ready to jump.” The water is deep, the walkway at a lower point. It would be the safest here. 

“I’m gonna have to take the stairs.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, frustration creeping into his voice. He turns to look at Fitz. The other man is slumped against the pillar with his hand clutching at his abdomen. Blood has begun to soak into the bandage wrapping up his fingers. Six does not think it is from his nail beds.  

“It's not good,” Fitz gets out through gritted teeth. He pulls his hand away for a brief moment, offering Six a glimpse of a bullet wound.

“What the hell is that?” He’s crowding into the older man’s space. Fear is creeping its icy touch up his spine. If any one of them were to die, it would be Six. That was the job of a good guard dog.

“What do you think it is?” Even now Fitz cannot show any vulnerabilities of his own. He doubles down. “Go, Six, get her out of here.”

The agent stands up with a growl. He fires off a few more shots at Lloyd, trying to buy them some more time. Time that he knows will not fix anything. He ducks back down next to the bleeding man.

Fitz speaks before he can. “Take the gun. Give me the grenade.”

“Let me see. Put your hand on it. Put some pressure. Get the gun out of my damn face.” Desperation is making him harsh. Things were not supposed to happen this way.

“Give me the gren-.”

Six cuts him off. “Shut up. I need to think.”

He can still fix this. Fitz does not have to die here. Six can carry him, Atlas the weight of both of their bodies. Claire is sobbing quietly beside them. He has to fix this. There is no other option. 

“You don’t have time to think. Six, look at me.” He keeps his eyes averted from the speaking man. He is running scenario after scenario in his mind. He was trained for this. He can make this work. 

“Look at me.” Six finally meets his eyes. They’re sad, understanding. Fitz knows what this means to the three of them. Knows that this is a devastating blow. “I’m out. Get her gone.”

“Sto-.” Six tries, agonized. 

“Take this. Give me a hand grenade. You understand me? Go!” He shoves the gun at Six’s chest. They are out of time and Six knows it. 

Woodenly, Six pushes a grenade into Fitz’s waiting hand and takes the gun. Claire is whimpering now, holding herself and rocking. He has to save her, even if it takes his final breath. He stands up and wraps his hand around her upper arm. Pins down Lloyd on the other bridge with a few more shots. He will have to grit his teeth and bear it like he did when he pulled the gun on his own father. He has to follow through no matter how much it hurts. Sometimes to save someone you care about, you have to sacrifice another. 

“C’mere,” he says softly to the trembling girl in his grasp.

“You go with Six, baby.” Fitz prompts. He is looking at them as though he is trying to take in every last detail. 

“We go in three, two, one.” He starts pulling her away, but she fights him, jerks out of his grip the moment she finally processes her uncle’s condition. 

“No, wait! He’s bleeding. Oh my god!” She falls onto her knees next to him, frantically grasping at him. Both men close their eyes and cringe at what has to be done. 

Six closes the gap between them and catches Claire in a vice grip. She cannot slip away from him again. It could easily be a death sentence for her too. He would not be able to live with himself if he lost both of them. They are all he has. 

“Come on.” The agent is nearly begging. 

“I love you, baby. Go with Six.” 

“No! Not you too!” She’s screaming, fighting against the man holding her. She is breaking their hearts.

“Go, go, go, go. Take her!” The last part is directed at his final recruit. 

“It’s okay,” Six mutters, trying to convince Claire as much as himself. There is nothing okay about this situation. Both his fathers will have died from a bullet to the gut if Fitz does not manage to trigger the grenade. He pulls the girl off of her uncle. 

She is hitting and clawing at him in her efforts to not abandon Fitz. He will carry the gouges of her nails in his arm for weeks. They will be a tangible reminder of his failure. 

“No! Six, stop! Stop it! Stop! Six, please!” She is choking on her words, sobbing hysterically. 

Donald Fitzroy’s “Oh, for Christ sakes.” lingers in his ears as he shoves Claire behind him and forces her down the walkway. He gives them just enough cover to duck behind another pillar before helping Claire onto the barrier. The man hesitates, he has a bad feeling about this but Fitz was right, he does not have time to think. They are out of options. 

“I’ll jump with you. I’ll be with you the whole way. I promise,” he tells her as he steps up next to her. She is crying and clinging to his hand now. There is no fight left in her.

They leap off the bridge, hand in hand until the impact of the water tears them apart. Six hits hard, the air knocked out of his lungs even though he went into the water feet first. Claire had flinched right before impact and had landed belly down. They sink beneath the surface, suspended in silence as a battle rages on overhead. Forcing himself into action, the agent grabs hold of Claire as he fights to get the both back to breathable conditions.. They break the surface, and he holds her for a moment, treading water. She is unmoving in his arms, deadweight. He reasons that she must have been knocked unconscious in the fall. Six will have to get them both to shore on his own. 

It is a hard swim. She does not so much as twitch as he struggles to keep them moving and afloat. She is slung across his broad back. Her arms are tucked through the shoulder straps of the bulletproof vest he is wearing. He could not risk her slipping under the surface in her unconscious state. Exhaustion threatens to drown them both. His arms move like they have weights hanging from them. The wound on his side has torn open further. If this were a cartoon, he would be leaving behind a winding trail of blood in the water. His vision sparks around the edges. Blood loss and fatigue are catching up to him. He feels as though there is a man standing over him with a hammer, waiting to strike.

The last time he slept was in the back of Agent Miranda’s silver Audi, head knocking aggressively against the interior of the trunk lid. Perhaps she could hit him with another dart once they catch up with each other at the meetup location. He does not think that he will be able to fall asleep naturally, not for a long while. Even now, he can hear Claire’s wheezing sobs rattling in the back of his mind as they leave Fitz alone to die.

Hauling them both over the edge of the retaining wall hurts . His stomach scrapes on the stone and he nearly blacks out from the pain. His fingers slacken and they pull free of the gravel. Only the thought of the girl he is carrying rallies him enough to drag the two of them the rest of the way out. He crouches, breathing through the lightning bolts of agony racing through his tired muscles, and extracts Claire from his back. He is forced to let go of her to eliminate a threat that catches up with them. Lloyd will be coming soon, he realizes. The man he just shot was the welcoming committee.

He turns back to Claire and pauses. The girl lays in a crumpled little heap on the gravel where he had dragged her out of the water. She has not moved. Six returns to her and kneels. Rolling her onto her side, he makes sure her airway isn't obstructed. It was a hard impact, difficult even for him. It is reasonable that she is taking more time to recover.

“Claire.” The way he says it is soft, panic has not set in. He knows that Claire is a strong kid.

She does not respond.

“Claire, we need to go. I need to get you out of here.” He tries again, an edge creeping into his voice.

Nothing. He strips off his glove and notches his bare fingers against her neck. He waits. Tries a different angle. Waits. Presses more firmly. Waits. There's no matching echo to his own beating heart. 

He feels an uncontrollable uptick in his breathing. Tension spreads in his nervous system. Her pulse is there, just too weak for him to feel it. She must have water in her lungs. He needs to get it out.

The agent shifts Claire onto her back. He gently opens her jaw and adjusts the angle of her head to ensure that there is a clear path from her lungs to her mouth. Her ribs feel as delicate as a bird's under his hands. She is just a child.

The first set of compressions jolts her, and for a shining moment, he thinks that she is coming to. That thought plummets when he realizes it is only the force of his hands puppeteering her. No water comes from her lungs, all he hears is the dry rasping of a chest cavity being forced to respond. Even still, he does not stop. He cannot bring himself to succumb to the truth, even as he feels her ribs shatter underneath his palms.

“I'm surprised that you're still here, sunshine. Thought you would have taken the girl and scrammed.” Lloyd's voice is an annoying buzz at the fringes of his awareness

Six drowns it out, swats it away like a mosquito. He is still trying to help Claire breathe. Stopping means giving up on her. 

“Oooh. I see. Looks like the girl didn't make it, huh? Guess you'll have to turn in your parenting license.”

There is a stinging sensation digging at his eyes. Six feels wetness streaking down his face. The likelihood of an unrealized facial injury is high. Much to his disbelief, however, the liquid that falls onto the backs of his hands is clear. It is not blood. He has not cried in over a decade. Nothing was ever worth it, not since he walked out of his father’s bedroom, gun clasped in a too small hand. His movements stutter to a stop as he muddles through the dawning grief. His body is more willing to accept the truth in front of him than his mind is. The man kneels, head bowed, finally still. A dog loyally by the side of his dearest companion.

Lloyd fires a shot off. It clips his left arm, tearing a long gouge as it passes. Blood immediately fills the newly vacated space. It drips onto Claire, soaking into her shirt in a scattershot of drops. The pain is an annoyance, the insult to his charge is far greater. He looks at Claire’s still face, the cost of his failure. He knows. Oh, he knows.

The cause of her death is running his mouth without a care in the world. “With her and your old man gone, why don’t we work together. Smooth this whole thing over.”

Six stands, spits. He faces Lloyd. “You made a mistake.”

The other man laughs, delighted. He tosses his gun into the moat and pulls out a knife. He does a trick as he releases the blade. Lloyd has always preferred to be hands on when it comes to torture. There is something more rewarding about it. 

“Let’s see if these moves fuck,” Lloyd crows. 

The agent is on him in seconds, primed to tear into him like an animal. Six no longer has any reservations about being the aggressor. With no reason to try to be a better man, who is there to care about what cruelty his hands inflict? Why bother with morals? They had been his downfall, start to finish.

He takes the knife to the shoulder without flinching. It plunges deep into the meat of his trapezius muscle, missing the bulletproof vest. It makes a place for itself a narrow distance away from his spine. The minute it is withdrawn in an arc of blood, his hand clamps onto Lloyd’s. They snarl and growl in each other’s faces. Six is stronger and he overpowers the other man. He gives Lloyd’s wrist no option but to turn. The blade is steadily angled away from Six’s already injured abdomen and towards the other man’s. He looks him in the eyes as he unyieldingly drives the knife home. Together, they gut Danny Carmichael’s golden boy. Lloyd’s skin snags and jerks around the sharp edge as it carves into the tender flesh of his belly. It should have been sharpened for a clean cut. It would have hurt less. Blood spills hot and thick over their clasped hands. A crimson wave of carnage. Six does not exactly relish the pained surprise in the other man’s eyes, but he is not upset about it either. He lets go, the folding knife falls from Lloyd’s suddenly limp fingers. Impassive, he observes as the interrogator take a few stumbling steps back. Lloyd hovers his hands uncertainly over his stomach.

“You shit… look what you did to me,” he groans. 

Six closes the scant distance. He does not want to hear the other man speak again. He fists one hand in the long hair at the top of Lloyd’s head. Like a steadfast, unthinking laborer, he drags his thrashing body over to the edge of the moat. Lloyd’s knees scrape across the gravel and he loses a shoe. He is clawing at Six’s gloved hand. It hurts less than Claire’s desperate attempts to break free had. 

Lloyd gives into primal animal fear. He squeals and flails like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. There is nothing he can do to gain the upper hand when Six overpowers him to his knees at the water’s edge. The agent does not hesitate the first time he smashes Lloyd’s face into the stone edge. He does not hesitate the second or third time either. He lets himself fall into the repetitive motion, repeats it until all he can hear over the increasingly wetter thuds are Lloyd’s pathetic attempts to draw in air.

Six straightens, drops the now unrecognizable man flat on his back to suffocate in his own blood, and turns to Claire. He picks her up and cradles her in his arms like something fragile, precious. He handles her as gently now as he did when she was alive. Gingerly, he lowers himself to the ground beside the vehicle Lloyd arrived in. The agent leans back against the tire, he adjusts the girl in his arms so she is cradled against his chest. He waits to die.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Death does not greet him by the time Suzanne arrives. The Sierra Agent cannot bring himself to care about her presence. He is floating somewhere above his body. He has long since tuned out the sludgy sound of Lloyd’s breathing. At some point the other man had tried to crawl across the ground towards him, towards the vehicle, but that had been some time ago. He vaguely wonders who will die first. Fitz had always said his inclination to survival was almost supernatural. He wishes it were not so. Maybe continuing to live was part of his penance for failing Fitzroy… for failing Claire. 

He hears a droning in his ears. He realizes that it is his own voice, hoarse and ragged. Apologies spill from his lips. He cannot make himself stop. Distantly, he is aware of a gun going off. The gurgling ends. 

“Get up,” a woman’s voice tells him. He pays her no mind. He does not even think he could stand if he wanted to. 

The rest of her words roll right over him. He comes back to himself when he registers that two men are trying to extract Claire from his hold. That provokes a reaction from him. His apologies turned into the feral growls and snarls of a wounded dog. A boot dug into his stab wound stuns him enough that they are able to pull the dead girl off of him. Despite the lack of motor functions, he makes himself struggle to rise. It is a series of starts and stops. His muscles will not obey. He feels cold. 

The bullet to his thigh feels more like a gesture of mercy than anything else. It takes the final dregs of fight out of him. The last thing he sees before his vision gives out is Claire’s arm dangling as she is carried away from him. He reaches out for her hand. He said he would be there with her. He promised.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Steadily beeping machines greet him as he gradually comes to, fighting his way through the cocktail of pain management and sedatives that serve to keep him compliant. For a blissful moment, he hazily drifts along before his mind sharpens and he remembers. The memories of that night in Croatia latch onto him and they do not let go. He makes a motion to sit up, to do anything to end the anguish, but he is handcuffed to the hospital bed that he woke up in. He is a prisoner in every way that counts.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The nurse tending to Six makes two mistakes. The first is that she does not tighten one of his wrist cuffs enough to keep him properly restrained after sponging him down. The second is that she does not notice him slipping her ballpoint pen from one of the hip pockets on her scrub top when she leans over him to check an IV bag.  She leaves the room none the wiser to his plan.

With the extra slack, it is easy to tug his hand free of the restraint. He angles his head to the side before locating his carotid artery with seeking fingers. It is a mirror of when he sought out Claire’s pulse in what feels like a lifetime ago. Unlike hers, his beats steadily against the pads of his fingers. His heart rate does not increase, even as he plunges the pen as deeply as he can into his own flesh. His hand trembles slightly. Six pulls the pen out, letting it fall to the floor as his blood begins to pump steadily from the hole he has made.

The heart rate monitor finally goes wild as he hemorrhages. He closes his eyes and coaxes his body into relaxing despite the instinctual urge to fight for self preservation. He will not fight what he assuredly deserves.

───※ ·❆· ※───

With a wild sense of déjà vu, he wakes up again to the sound of steadily working machines. Only this time, he is not alone. Suzanne is sitting in a chair at his bedside. She looks ruffled and bordering on irate. 

“You are too important of an asset to be acting up like this,” she says as an opener.

What is there for him to say? He knows his value to the CIA. Does not care. There was no longer anyone to tether him.

“Fine. Don’t speak. You have two weeks, and then I’m sending you to take care of a little problem.”

He does not spend a single moment alone for those two weeks. His hands are kept in sight at all times. The staff are not allowed to have anything in their pockets. They do not give him a single opportunity to disrupt Suzanne Brewer’s will.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Morning dawns without fanfare. Six rattles along down the road, seated between two handlers. He is not trusted enough to be unsupervised, even now. The man knows that he could wrestle a firearm from one of the agents on either side of him, put it in his mouth, and pull the trigger faster than anyone in the back of this vehicle could respond, but he is going to see this final mission through. He will put a bullet into the target and then his work will be done. If he makes his death look like an accident, then the majority of the blame will be off the shoulders of the people supervising him. It will be better that way.

The van rolls to a stop and he emerges into the early morning light. He goes through the motions of checking his equipment. He declines the bulletproof vest that is offered to him with the argument that he does not need it for a stealth mission. It would only serve to draw attention to him. The target might catch wind of the plot to take his life. 

A strict looking supervisor gives him the rundown on the operation like he could not do something this simple in his sleep. He had been Donald Fitzroy’s gray man for almost twenty years. He was the only surviving member of the Sierra program. The only real hitch in the plan would be drawing fire without someone else intervening until his personal goal was achieved. 

As anticipated, he retires the target without issue. By all accounts the man he put down was a terrible individual, nothing to mourn. He finds that relatable. It is no big effort to draw attention. He allows himself to be spotted leaving the scene. A particularly loyal bodyguard tails him back to the extraction site. Without the vest that he declined, there is nothing to protect him from the cartridge of rounds that pierce his back. 

Six falls forward, does not try to catch himself. The ground meets him like an embrace. He relaxes into the loose soil. The whooshing sound of the blood in his ears sounds like the ocean. If he lets himself pretend, he can imagine that he is laying on a distant shore, somewhere far away from here. Maybe they could have gotten a house near the beach. He had dreamed of open waters and palm trees while he was in prison. He thinks he can hear one of Claire's records in the distance. The crashing of the waves fades away with the music and silence sets in.

[jackoshadows]

If you saying Jonsa is not happening GRRM didn't write anything for them, how you shipping Jonerys 🤣 There's nothing for Jonerys, and Jon still cares for Sansa and thinks of her. He has written something for Jonsa and nothing for Jonerys.

I mean, Jon and Dany haven't met yet, they haven't heard of each other, they don't know of each other, they don't know the other person exists yet.... Why would they think of each other?

Jon and Sansa do know of each other. They grew up in the same castle. They are half siblings. And yet Jon can't spare a single thought of worry or concern for Sansa's situation, where she is and her status in being married to Tyrion Lannister.

That's the point.

I have seen some try to justify this as Tyrion is not bad as Ramsay and that is why Jon is not worried and all that, and yet! Sansa was still a political hostage forced into marriage by the Lannisters, she's alive and somewhere in Westeros, Stannis is actually mentioning Sansa in their conversation and yet we get nothing, nada, zilch, zero.

Same with Sansa. She's playing a pretend bastard in the Vale and not once does she recall her bastard half-brother, instead confessing to having forgotten about his existence until Myranda Royce brings up his name.

There's no way I am shipping two characters who care so little for each other. It's the emotional bonds that matters to me - loyalty, love, concern, worry - that's what I find attractive in relationships rather than superficial notions of beauty, subjective chemistry and 'they look hot together'. That's why I generally tend to favour platonic relationships - friendships, siblings, found family, brotherhood, sisterhood.

It's clear that as an author GRRM is not invested in Jon and Sansa's relationship in the books. Sansa matters to Jon in the wider context of family and Winterfell - she is tagged on at the end when he thinks about all of his family or when he refers to his sisters being alone in KL. The little we hear of Sansa from him is the typical Sansa characterization of liking enchanted beauty like the Wall or her telling him to praise a girl's name. That's it. There's no emotional weight behind their relationship, no intimate moments between them. They don't think fondly of each other, Jon never shows up in Sansa nostalgic memories of her family and Jon is actually surprised that while missing his family, he missed 'Even' Sansa.

If the author was building some grand romance then he would actually throw in those hints in the actual books!! That's how a writer organically builds up a relationship.

Jon and Dany have not even met and yet Jon keeps referring to dragons and Dany sees the blue rose all the way over at the Wall while being called a bride of fire!! That's actual foreshadowing! That's how it's done.

There's actual parallels of them as leaders. There's parallels of them at the ends of their worlds trying to reform and help people. They are close in age, in maturity, in thinking and goals. They are Targaryens, they are each other's type beyond just looks and beauty, there is prophecy connected to them, they have magical pets, they will be essential to saving the world.

You read all this and then go 'But snow fell on Sansa's face in the Vale...Jonsa is so real in the books 🥰' and then call it 'Sansa hate' if I laugh at it, then so be it.

[rescuehumans-runtotherescue]

Not a hc relationship for a Burns kid with a reader (my brain can't accept that ¨reader¨ is supposed to be me 😕)

But what do you think of hc for Charlie x Carin??? Why not have some old people love fluff?? How would the rest of the Burns kids react knowing that their dad is ¨back in action 🤭😉?

I wanted to send you ideas/hc's for a future au with some of my crack ships, but I think that you won't like them

hi

Charlie x Carin Headcanons

🚨Given the fact that they’re in their middle age, most dates are probably quiet ones, when rescue work doesn’t get in the way. Their relationship gives me big “quality time as a love language” vibes.

🚨They still like to hike together! They get to appreciate nature and the quiet time away from responsibilities for a short while and just enjoy each other’s presence. Sometimes their hikes turn into picnics.

🚨They also do lunch when they can, cafe dates where Charlie pulls out her chair for her and they playfully fight over who will cover the check. Chivalry ain’t dead~

🚨They talk policing, getting to know about what each other has done and heard about working on the police force. Carin likes to get Charlie all flushed and bashful when she goes on and on about how famous he is in the mainland rescue community.

🚨They do talk about family as well. They both have plenty of stories of Jerry to laugh about, and of course there is always a lot to say about the Burns’ kids.

🚨But Charlie? Well Charlie mainly just wants to hear about her.

🚨He loves his kids and is proud of them but he hears plenty of people praising the rescue team all the time. He wants to know about her. Why she became police dispatch, why she moved to the island, if she had a spouse…

🚨And if she did, they speak of their passed loved ones fondly together, which only strengthens their bond and makes Charlie feel less guilty about pursuing love again.

🚨Sometimes they do drives around town (or Carin joins Charlie for parol) courtesy of Chase, who is painfully oblivious to these two flirting and how much of a third wheel he is.

How The Kids Would React

The Burns’ kids would definitely notice when their dad starts hanging out with a woman his age. At first they would stay out of it for sake of pretending it’s not happening and not wanting to make assumptions, but when casual meetups turn into obvious dates, they have a talk about it. And when I say ‘they’ have a talk about it, I mean just the kids.

They know their dad still loves their mom and that their dad has gone through so much that he deserves to be happy. If that’s with Carin, they’re… okay with it. Kade is surprisingly the most accepting of it.

It can’t not be awkward when your parent starts dating again. The Burns’ kids and Carin have a lot of strained awkward conversations before they get used to her being around.

They do like Carin but this doesn’t stop them from making faces and fake gagging behind her back if they catch the two getting affectionate, no matter how innocent it is.

“Oh gross, they’re kissing!”

It’s likely the most awkward for poor Cody, who is probably a teenager at the time this is happening. Not to mention the fact that he and Carin’s nephew (Jerry’s son) are likely being made to hang out more because of it. Not that Cody doesn’t like him but I’m sure he gets plenty of “Ew Aunt Carin and your dad are dating! That’s so gross!” Or they just avoid talking about it at all which makes for a lot of awkward silence.

🚨Charlie never hides his newfound relationship from his kids, but he is hesitant to talk about it.

1, because he’s not sure how they’ll react to him moving on from their mom

2, he knows it’s ‘cringy’ when a parent gets mushy with someone

And 3, he knows that they’ll tease him about it

Kade: Hey, uh, Dad! Is that a new shirt? Don’t think I’ve seen it before! Going somewhere… special?

Charlie [parent warning voice]: Kade…

Dani: Oh hush, Kade. Let him have some fun, he deserves it!

Graham: Oh, uh, but not too much fun!

Cody: Guys, ew!