#How do you send your son that was missing for three fucking days Blow off his trauma And then send him to the military?

[nightmarearian]

do you think the abyss healed Childe’s scars?

realistically I know it’s stupid graphics & model “limitations”

But do you think his skin looks as normal as it did before he fell.

Cause when they’re hit, an abyss monster.

They disintegrate.

Do you think Ajax’s scars healed like that? In the abyss? After it, too?

Do you think they burned? Or was it numb, as the darkened skin faded away with little, yellow, glowing particles?

That he has no evidence of his suffering for those three months in hell (and his only companion’s silence) but dull eyes no one wants to look at?

Callouses on his hands and feet that no one pays attention to? Takes care of?

That he shows his prowess and uncanniness and abyssal hunger because that’s the only way how? Yes. he is hungry and wants a fight. Look at him. He’s off. Broken now.

Look at him.

Please.

[sweetcathedral]

Note: This is what Gojo would do to you if you ate his mochi. PS - Both of you owe it to Nanami

⚠️: 18+, some good fingering

“Fuck you,” you said, disappointed in yourself—angry at yourself for not feeling as pissed as you should be. Stop denying it.

“Yeah. Fuck me,” he softly chuckles before diving in for a deeper kiss.

Gojo’s sitting at the corner of the dark room lit only by the blazing fireplace, staring emptily into the flickering flames. His head rests against the chair almost like he was about to doze off,

“Oh, you're here?” he asked as if he didn’t know, but he did. He always knows.

“Liar, just ask where I was. You don’t have to ask like that,” you cut the bullshit.

He scoffs, shaking his head in his hand. You make your way towards your room, trying to avoid any conflict with him. Your day was shit to start with, and it definitely did not end how you’d wanted it to. The curse user you were tasked with slipped away, which made you get an earful from the higher ups and was passed to Nanami to take care of. Gojo most likely heard through the grapevine and was about to bully you about it, poking at your insecurities like the asshole he is.

“Hey, I’m not done talking to you yet,” he grabs your wrist.

“I know. I screwed up, don’t need to hear it from you,” yanking yourself out of his grip.

Just as you turn around, he grabs your face and hips from behind. “Gojo, please—!” he squeezes your face and you shake your head trying to loosen his grip, but he doesn’t budge. Your head snaps up, forcing you to look up at him, and you can see the serious expression dawn on his features. It’s as if he’s mad at you, but you haven’t done anything wrong. “What’s wrong with you?” you hissed at him, already pissed about his forceful approach.

“. . . I’ve never seen this side of you.”

“Funny cause this is how you always make me feel,” you continue to struggle your way out.

“Oh? Cute,” just as you placed all your strength to push his hand off your hip, he lets go, sending you to plummet to the floor.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Yikes, sorry, didn’t know you’d fall that hard,” he snickers from behind.

“. . . you could’ve just let me go to my room, asshole . . .” you hold yourself back cause letting Gojo see you cry from your stress would mean that he’d have gotten what he wanted.

After your shower, you slump yourself onto your unmade bed. The feeling of the cool sheets sets your mind at ease, giving you a sense of comfort, enough for you to knock out into a heavy sleep, until you hear a knock at your door. “Hey, I’m inviting myself in,” Gojo loudly whispers. Irritated, you let out a sigh, pressing your forearm to your head and resting above the bridge of your nose. Without an ounce of energy left in your body to kick him out, you decided to let it pass, turning your head towards the doorway.

“Sounds like someone’s been hanging around Nanami too much,” Gojo walked into the room with a cup of tea in his hand and a small plate of kikufuku mochi in the other.

“Gojo, please. I’m tired—,” he shuts you up with a kiss. You hadn’t noticed how close he got to you until you lifted your arm from your eyes. He was sitting at the edge of the bed now, while resting his head on your chest. The tea and mochi were dangerously settled on the other side of the bed, giving you a bit of anxiety with the way he just placed it there.

“Did I tease you too hard?”

“Tease? You call that a tease?”

A soft giggle fell from his lips. Is this his way of apologizing?

“Sorry, probably a weird way of seeing how your day went.”

“Definitely a weird way. You could’ve simply asked, you know,” you prop yourself up, but that only prompts him to wrap his arms around your waist.

“No. Stay this way, I like it . . .”

“But the tea and mochi.”

“I’ll finish it later.”

“What?”

“What?”

The two of you look at each other.

“Pft! Did you think it was for you? How embarrassing,” Gojo laughs.

Angry and annoyed, you eat his mochi and finish his tea in one gulp.

“You little shit,” he stares at you in disbelief. “That was supposed to be my after sex snack.”

“Welp, looks like you’re not having sex,” you shrug, finally having a laugh.

“So you think that was funny, huh?” suddenly, he pulls you towards him by your leg.

“Ah, hey—!” your arms were pinned over your head, his soft lips placed upon yours.

“You’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied,” he breathes at the nape of your neck before tracing up the curve with the tip of his tongue. Lost in the heavy feeling of pent up frustration from your workload and stress, you let yourself melt into his touch. Too tired to fight back, your mind wanders wherever his fingers traced; the curve of your arched back, the slope of your legs, the soft curve of your breasts. The tension of your muscles loosen up, not knowing that they were tense in the first place. Fuck you.

“Haven’t seen you like this in awhile. This look suits you better,” he said, parting your lips with his tongue in soft familiar motions.

“Fuck you,” you said, disappointed in yourself—angry at yourself for not feeling as pissed as you should be. Stop denying it.

“Yeah. Fuck me,” he softly chuckles before diving in for a deeper kiss.

Gojo envelopes you in his arms, closing the space between you two. He hitches one of your knees to your chest, firmly pressing at the back of your thigh as he drags his fingers down to your already soaking panties. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. One. He slowly pushes through your walls, letting your pulsating motion suck him in deeper. Two. Another finger slips in with ease, your juices drip down onto the bed sheets, slowly gliding up and down your cunt as he thumbs over your swollen clit. Your chest starts to rise and fall in ragged breaths, exhaling soft moans. And three. The third finger takes you by surprise, enlarging your full cunt, your juices pooling into his palms. You clutch the pillows and messy sheets around you, panting rapidly at the movement of his fingers stirring inside of you. Each twist milking out the stress from your body, stimulating the sensation for more.

Before you knew it, a final wave of pleasure washes of your body causing your legs to spasm. You don’t remember the last time you had an orgasm, but you were glad Gojo was the one to give you that satisfaction.

“Look at you,” he pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart to reveal the sticky mess you made, webs of clear film connecting from finger to finger and dripping down his wrist. Your leg slowly goes limp as your body subsides, the weight of your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open. Gojo’s voice starts to fade like smoke dispersing in the air, blending into the background noises of night traffic and the rhythm of your breathing.

“Thanks for your help Nanami! I owe you,” Gojo blows empty kisses through the phone.

“You could’ve just asked her to take a day off, like normal boyfriends do,” Nanami sighs from the other side.

“She doesn’t get paid for days off, so the only way was to get you to get her to fuck up the mission and then give it to you. She still gets paid while coming home early to me. Win-win!”

“Sounds more like a lose-lose to me.”

“You’re so gloomy. You looking for a girlfriend too?”

“No. I’d rather avoid such luxuries.”

“Oh Nanami, this is why you’re losing hair.”

“. . . I’m hanging up.”

“Gah! Wai—,” but it was too late, Nanami had already hung up before Gojo could’ve asked him for praises.

He tosses his phone to the side of the bed and turns back to cradling you in his arms as he twiddles with your hair, brushing through your scalp. You were sound asleep, only your legs tucked under the blanket, so that it wouldn’t be too hot when Gojo started cuddling you afterwards.

Turns out he had made sure your mission didn’t go as planned. He missed having you to himself, but he also understands the importance of your finances, so he conducted an elaborate plan for you to still get paid while also coming home early. It wasn’t a win-win for you, it was a win-win for him. He knew that, but he also knew how to make it up to you.

Gojo tilts your head slightly towards him, placing light kisses on your forehead, nose and lastly your lips, the sweet taste of mochi still lingering like a red wine stain. A tempting taste for his sweet tooth, but he restrains himself from taking it any further, happy enough that you’re right next to him. He pulls you closer to him as he rests his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. “How cute, you still taste like my mochi.”

[missymurphy1985]

The Shirt (part 2 of The Tease)

Warning - Smut / Breeding Kink

Request? Yes, decided to do it as a part 2 of the Tease. Incorporated two requests into one here...

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @semperfemina-xo

Two years had passed since your encounter with Tommy in the alleyway beside the Garrison, and true to his word, he'd married you within a month of proposing. Your son, Charles, had been born 8 months later.

Charlie was sleeping that afternoon, and you looked down at your dress - covered in the lunch Charlie had allegedly eaten, however the state of said dress suggested he'd decorated you with more of it than he'd consumed....

Heading up the winding staircase of the beautiful Arrow House home you shared with your husband, you entered your bedroom looking for a new dress to wear when you spotted one of Tommy's shirts hanging on the edge of the chair. You picked it up to take downstairs to be washed but stopped to smell the collar - his aftershave still lingered, the smell intoxicating you. He'd been away in London for three days and you missed him terribly. You slipped your stained dress off, and pulled his shirt on over your shoulders instead, wrapping it round you as tight as you could, fastening the buttons. It hung loosely on you, and fell to your thighs, but you didn't care. It smelled of him, and it was the closest you'd get to an embrace from him for now.

You held it as close to your frame as possible, before laying down on the large double bed. Your son normally napped for at least 2 hours, and Frances promised to take care of him this afternoon when he woke so you could rest, Charlie had slept poorly last night, crying for his father. You allowed your eyes to close as you inhaled the sweet smell of your husband, dreaming of when he'd be home.

You couldn't sleep though - you never slept properly when Tommy wasn't home. Sighing, you pulled yourself up and headed into the large ensuite bathroom to run a bath.

Your heart leapt when you heard the bedroom door open, and recognised his strong footsteps walking across the room. You lifted the hem of the shirt up slightly, and bit your lip. He was home early...

You were leaning over the tub when you suddenly felt strong hands underneath the shirt, running up your back.

"Wearing my clothes now, y/n..." His deep, husky voice whispered from behind you.

"Hmmm... They smell like you..." You murmured back, feeling his hands roam underneath the shirt and over your stomach.

"Wanna know a secret?" His lips on the back of your neck, sending shivers through you.

"Mhmm..."

"I miss feeling this belly all full and swollen with my seed inside you..." Tommy groaned in your ear, making your heart flutter in your chest.

"Well why don't you do something about it Mr Shelby?" , his eyes full of lust and need, spurred on by your words.

"Want me to fill you up again do you? Give you another baby to keep you busy while I'm gone eh?" Switching off the bath, you turned around with a groan.

You held his cheeks in your hands and stared into his blue eyes.

"Fuck me, Thomas. Now." He growled as he pulled you into the bedroom quickly, moving you to the drawers at the side of the room and bending you over.

"See now, I wanna see your pretty little face when you lose control over my cock, but I sense my little one needs to be treated as the dirty girl she acts like..." he watched your needy face in the large oak framed mirror and lifted the shirt up your back, your naked backside in front of his as he parted your cheeks and slid his hand between your legs, feeling how wet you were. His other hand squeezed an ass cheek, before slapping the flesh hard.

"Thomas please...." You begged, desperate for release.

"Pure filth aren't you little one? Missed my cock so much you're fucking begging for it..." You groaned at his words, pushing your ass back at him, rolling your hips as his fingers found your clit, gently massaging it.

"Gonna make a mess on my fingers little one? Gonna scream my name so loud, even our neighbours will know who you belong to eh?"

"You... Only you... It's always been you..." You heard him pull his trousers down and line himself up against your entrance, teasing your lower lips with the tip, stroking it up and down painfully slowly.

Edging himself inside you with a deep groan, he soon bottomed out against your ass, keeping his eyes on yours in the mirror, both of his hands now at your hips to keep you in place.

"You don't move - you let me take care of you now, understand?" He glared. You loved it when he took you like this - complete control, complete dominance. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every word. Words failed you, all you could do was nod.

He began to pound into you hard and fast - holding you strong with his hands to keep you from moving. You tried to arch against him but his hand slapped your ass hard, making you cry out.

"I said NOT to move sweetheart... Move again and I'll pull out!" He barked, but it didn't frighten you. Quite the opposite in fact. You knew the maids could probably hear everything and it only turned you on more.

"I'm sorry Tommy... I won't move I promise..."

"Stay still and I'll make you feel good little one.. so good..." His thrusts picked up in speed and force, edging you ever closer to the sweet release you craved. Your fingers gripped onto the edge of the dressing table as your cries got louder.

"Yes... Fuck that's it Tommy... Right there..."

"Still so tight for me.. so wet and needy all for me eh?" He gasped, his hips pounding into you with reckless abandon now as he felt your walls begin to contract around him.

"All for you... All for you... Oh god Tommy I'm gonna cum, please, please don't stop!" He squeezed your ass cheeks hard and felt your orgasm flow through you - watching your face in the mirror, how your eyes stayed locked with his until the pleasure became too much and your eyes rolled back in your head, your mouth emitting the most exquisite sounds as you came hard over him.

His orgasm approached quickly, the sounds you made sending him spiralling.

"Gonna fill you up little one, gonna make your body swell full of my baby... You want it?" He raised an eyebrow at you in the mirror.

"Please... Please Tommy give it ALL to me..."

"Gonna cum... Holy shit little one you feel so fucking good... Keep cumming, please, keep cumming for me baby..." He thrust you into another blinding orgasm as you felt his cock pulse and release deep inside your womb, filling you completely.

Your movements slowed to a stop, before he pulled out gently and lifted you into his strong arms, one under your back and legs and carried you gently over to the bath you were running. Standing you, and easing his shirt off your back, he lifted you again and placed you in the still warm water, kissing your forehead, then your lips gently.

"Stay right there for as long as you need - I'll take Charlie for a walk when he wakes up. Frances told me you'd had a rough night with him?"

"He just misses his Daddy," you sighed, relaxing into the bubbles.

"Well I'm home now, and I've cleared my schedule for the next couple of days. Neglected you, haven't I?"

"You never neglect us Tommy, everything you do is for us whether you're here or not," you caressed his cheek lightly as he bent down to kiss you again.

He smiled at you, and headed out to the door hearing Charlie calling his name.

"Oh and don't think I didn't mean what I said - Charlie needs a brother or sister, don't you think?"

"Good job you think so. Could be making a baby as we speak Daddy," you smiled, watching his eyes widen.

"Fuck don't call me that, else I'll be calling Frances back and taking my wife back to bed!"

You chuckled as he he as headed out, smiling as you heard him blowing raspberries on his boys belly before taking him down the stairs.

Stroking your belly hopefully, life was truly perfect, and with any luck it was about to get even better too.

[writinglizards]

My Heart Just Knows

Sequel to Don’t Stop (I Can’t Turn the Feeling Off)

Summary: Jaskier pays Geralt a visit at his studio after a long day. Geralt makes it very good for them both. 

Paring: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, Dom/Sub play, use of the word ‘sir’, semi-public sex

Read on Ao3

As their relationship progresses, there's...a slight change. Geralt texts more often, more openly. He tells Jaskier when he's having a bad day, when he's worried, when he's struggling with this, all of it, and he gives Jaskier the opportunity to connect to him, to reassure and explain. And in return, Jaskier does his best to be a little more manageable. He doesn't smother him in attention, doesn't text incessantly, or call, or make a general nuisance of himself. They're...they're finding a balance.

They go on a few more dates, little things that end in sweet kisses and sometimes a frantic fuck at either Geralt's apartment or Jaskier's house. It's good. It's good, and Jaskier's terrified of when and how it's going to end. He keeps telling himself that they both want this, that it's not likely Geralt's just going to break it off, suddenly tired of the attention that comes with Jaskier being a popstar after he’s had his fill of Jaskier's body. He's not...he's not like that, Jaskier knows. It doesn't make it easier to deal with, but texting Geralt about it does, so he continues to do that.

Bad day, Geralt texts him sometime shortly after 1 pm, you wanna meet up for dinner? I'll pay.

Sure. You thinking that Nilfggard place downtown again?

If that's what you want, yeah. Just wanna see you.

Jaskier's chest is tight as he reads over the words. "Hold still," Yen tells him, pinching his bare shoulder aggressively. He flinches, whining, and she smiles only a little meanly at him when their eyes meet in the mirror, "you can moon over Geralt later."

"Yenna--"

"No, don't you 'Yenna' me, Jaskier. Later. You've got another interview." He grumbles in response, shoving his phone between his thighs to eliminate the temptation of looking at the texts again. "And if this goes well enough, I'll cancel the 3 pm interview."

"Really, Yen?" he asks, sitting up a little straighter. Her smile softens just a little, goes a little more genuine around the edges.

"Mm. But only if this goes well. And that includes hair and makeup, you imbecile, so hold still." He does, smiling all the while. He knows she's offering to cancel the later interview so he can meet Geralt at his studio as he closes down for the evening. He also knows if he points that out she'll overload his schedule just to prove a point. It's practically a game.

The interview goes well enough, and Yen scowls only a little when he comes back to the hair and makeup room with his best pout in place.

"Yenna--"

"Oh, shut up, for Melitele's sake. I already canceled," she says before he can even ask, and he can feel the smile on his face, stretched so wide it hurts.

"You're the best, Yen."

"I'm aware," she says primly, "now sit back down. We've got a meeting to catch in an hour and you can't wear stage makeup to it."

By the time she drops him off at Geralt's studio building, he's exhausted, but looking forward to it. They haven't talked much since setting up dinner tonight, and Jaskier's hopeful Geralt will want to take him home (or let Jaskier take him home). It's...it's been a while since they've gotten off together, although they've seen each other plenty. And they haven't fucked in even longer.

He rides the elevator up, shifting from foot to foot anxiously until the doors snick open on the correct floor. He ducks into the office less than a minute later and is delighted to find Aiden at his desk with Lambert in his lap, very obviously making out.

"Hello darlings."

"Son of a--fuck," Lambert yelps, tumbling out of Aiden's lap and directly onto the floor. Aiden fumbles a hand out to catch him but he's laughing and he's not much help.

"It's been a good day for everyone, I see."

"Hi Jaskier," Aiden smiles, helping Lambert up who shakes off his hands immediately, glowering.

"Listen, popstar--" he starts in, aiming for intimidating, but the effect is diminished by the way Aiden melts behind him, smile soft and fond, "--Geralt doesn't know. You can't--"

"Can't say anything? My lips are sealed." He mimes pulling a zipper closed in front of his mouth and Lambert fumbles to a stop, confused.

"...Really?"

"Really. It's not my place to go blowing your big secret, dear." He winks over Lambert's shoulder at Aiden, who erupts into snickers, a hand clamped over his mouth.

"And what do you think is so funny, kitten?"

"I--I just--" he has to pause to breathe, to calm himself down, "We've been dating three years and Jaskier's been dating Geralt two months and he already knows. Lambert--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he grumbles, but even he's grinning a little now.

"Am I missing something here?"

"It's a secret only from Geralt," Aiden tells him helpfully, "everyone else knows."

"Ah." That's... "is there any particular reason?" he asks. Lambert shrugs and Aiden grins broadly.

"Geralt told Lambert not to harass me two days after we started dating and it was just...too funny to correct." Lambert snorts a laugh and Aiden's grin softens as their gazes catch and hold, "And here we are."

Jaskier's chest tightens watching them. It's clear they care about each other, clear they love each other, and he's...he's happy for them, he is. He just hopes...

"Aiden, when's that next appointment?" Geralt's voice calls from somewhere in the workroom, making Jaskier jump and Aiden roll his eyes.

"He canceled," he hollers back, dragging Lambert back down into his lap with a grin, "you're cleared for the day." There's a vague rumble of assent from the other room as Lambert beams and twists back to press a kiss to Aiden's throat, swinging a leg over the armrest of the chair to lounge back in his lap, Aiden's arms around his waist, his back to Aiden's chest.

"You aren't afraid he'll walk in and catch you?" Jaskier asks, and Lambert laughs.

"Pretty boy's real focused at work, popstar," he grins, "why, I've--"

"Okay," Aiden laughs, slapping a hand across Lambert's mouth, "no lurid details, thanks." Jaskier can't help but laugh.

"Ask me again when princess isn't here," Lambert grins, elbowing Aiden playfully. Aiden slaps at his chest vaguely.

"Behave."

"I always behave, kitten."

"Mm, no, you don't," he says, but he still presses a kiss to Lambert's cheek, "now are you gonna let me work or are you gonna have to go sit in the car until I can get off early to pick puppy up from daycare?"

"Fuck you," he mutters, cheeks tinged pink, and Jaskier bites back a laugh. Ah. So that's what that means.

"Do you think he'd mind if I--" he trails off, gesturing vaguely toward the back room, and Aiden refocuses on Jaskier, smiling.

"Nah, go right ahead. I'll shout before anyone comes in, no worries." The wink he sends Jaskier implies he knows very well what they've gotten up to in the past. Jaskier fights down the blush burning in his cheeks as he steps through the door.

Geralt's stitching together an outfit across the room at one of the large, industrial sewing machines, humming softly under his breath. It's a tune Jaskier recognizes, one of his songs.

"Aiden?" Geralt asks, not turning to look, and Jaskier's chest aches with how much he loves him, this quiet, attentive man.

"Try again, love," he says softly, and Geralt swears. Jaskier laughs as he pulls the fabric away from the machine and snatches up a stitch ripper.

"Couldn't have waited another fucking minute, could you?" he grouses, "you ruined my seam."

"Mm, I'm sure you can fix it," Jaskier grins, crossing the room to press up behind him, drop his chin onto Geralt's shoulder, "I believe in your very capable skills, darling."

Geralt grumbles irritably, but he also turns to kiss Jaskier sweetly, so he can't actually be that mad.

"What are you doing here so early?"

"Good boys get their last interview of the day canceled so they can come visit their very important other half," he murmurs, kissing along Geralt's throat, "and I've been such a good boy, sir."

"You want me to put you in your place?" Geralt asks, and it sends a shock of heat straight to Jaskier's core. He'd just been teasing. They haven't...Geralt's not really interested in dominating and Jaskier hasn't slipped on him since that last time with the dildo. The thought of it--

"Don't tease me, love," he murmurs, kissing Geralt's throat again as he pulls away. He twists to look at him, expression thoughtful.

"I'm not."

"Geralt. I know you don't...you don't like that."

Geralt twists, getting his hands around Jaskier's waist and tugging him forward, thumbs pressing into the jut of his hipbones just above the waistband of his trousers, "It doesn't do anything for me, but I--you like it. And I like to see you feel good." It sends a shiver down his spine.

"Aiden's in the other room," he whispers, but it sounds like a weak protest even to his own ears.

"And my last appointment canceled. Aiden won't come back here because he doesn't want me to give him any extra work." He says it matter-of-factly, but he's not pressing, just...offering.

"What about dinner?"

"We can get something after, if you want," he murmurs, pressing his lips to bare skin peeking from the deep v of Jaskier's shirt. He sinks his fingers into Geralt's hair, petting gently.

"Will you take me home afterward?" He's...a little nervous about...about after. He doesn't play as a sub often for a number of reasons, one of which being his sub drop can be...bad. Most people don't want to deal with that.

"Of course," Geralt hums, lips barely brushing his skin, "whatever you need from me, Jask," and that's...

"Please," he gasps, tightening his grip in Geralt's hair, "sir, please."

Geralt breathes out quietly for a moment, and then his shoulders straighten as he pulls away. Jaskier lets him go.

"Go kneel by the couches. Don't touch anything, yourself included. If you're very good, I'll take care of you after I've fixed the problem you caused. Understood?"

Jaskier swallows hard and nods. Geralt just raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Go sit."

Jaskier feels a little thrill go through him as he crosses the room, settling down on his knees by the client couch. Geralt watches him critically until he's settled and then he nods, more to himself than to Jaskier, and resumes his work on the sewing machine.

It's a unique thrill, to be on the other end of their play, to have Geralt ignore him. He's already hard and aching in his trousers and watching the curve of Geralt's shoulders as he works is only getting him more wound up. He shifts, biting back a whine, and the sound of the sewing machine stops.

"Do we have a problem over there?" Geralt asks, tone severe, and his stomach clenches so hard it almost hurts.

"N-no, sir," he mumbles, forcing himself to stillness. His hands settle on his thighs and he squeezes sharply, trying to calm himself down. Geralt stares at him for another long minute before he turns back to his work. Jaskier lets out a breath.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the slow rush of breath in his lungs, the easy inhale, exhale pattern. He tries to focus on that rather than the burning under his skin, his own arousal. At some point, every exhale becomes a whine, but he's so far gone he doesn't notice until Geralt snaps at him.

"Can you be quiet?" he asks, and when Jaskier's eyes snap open, he's not even looking at him. He whines again, louder, unable to help himself. "Answer the question, Jaskier."

"N-no," he admits, and something in him roils to admit that he can't be good enough for him, can't--

"You need help?" Geralt asks, tone a little softer, and Jaskier sobs, nodding.

"Please."

Geralt sighs, a long, slow exhale, and then he's standing. He pauses to scoop something up from a nearby table before approaching Jaskier.

"Will this work?" he asks, presenting a scrap of fabric for Jaskier's approval. It's soft and silky from the looks of it, and Jaskier nods, tilting his head back and letting his mouth fall open as if to take Geralt's cock. Geralt groans.

"Cheeky," he mumbles, thumb pressing temptingly against his bottom lip, "misbehave and cause distractions and still think you deserve my cock in your mouth." He takes the cloth and winds it tight before shoving the fabric gently between Jaskier's teeth.

He moans as the fabric presses against his tongue, soft and silky like he knew it would be. Geralt stretches the ends of it back behind his head and tips his head down with one hand, knotting the fabric tightly but not so tightly it causes undue stress on his jaw.

"How's it feel?" Geralt asks, "nod if good, shake your head if it needs adjustment." Jaskier hardly waits for the question to be out of Geralt's mouth before he's nodding, tongue pressing against the fabric as he works his jaw testingly. There's a little give, but not too much. It's perfect.

"Good," Geralt says fingers settling on the hinge of Jaskier's jaw and digging in just a little, "you stay quiet and let me finish my work, and then we'll see what you've earned." Without another word, he turns and crosses back to his sewing machine. Jaskier could cry.

He tries to be good, but it's so fucking difficult. He's hot and hard in his trousers and Geralt looks so good, shoulders pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his back as he bends over the sewing machine and Jaskier whines around the gag.

Geralt starts humming again and Jaskier forces himself to focus on that--the pleasant melody of it, the way it makes his chest tight with fondness. He lets himself get lost in the sound, and when the sewing machine stops humming, he doesn't even notice.

"Jaskier?" Geralt's voice is soft and his fingers along his jaw are gentle. He can't remember closing his eyes, but opening them takes an enormous effort. "Good?"

"Hmmph," he mumbles through the gag. His tongue feels thick, his thoughts syrupy. He's not sure when he slipped into subspace but it's...pleasant. To put it mildly.

"Will you behave if I remove the gag?"

"Mmph."

"Alright," he says, as if Jaskier had answered with something intelligible. His fingers shift gently through Jaskier's hair before unknotting the fabric and easing the gag, damp with saliva, from between his teeth.

He gives him a minute to work the stiffness from his jaw, one hand cupping his face gently as he does so almost automatically. His half-lidded eyes are locked on the clothed cock not a foot from his face and it makes his mouth water to think of getting his lips around it. He hopes Geralt thinks he's been well behaved enough to let him suck him off.

"Color?" he asks, and it's so hard to make words work, but--

"Green," he rasps out, voice wrecked. Geralt hums.

"You were very good after the gag. Do you think you deserve my cock?" he asks conversationally, and Jaskier sways forward without really meaning, cheek pressed to the front of his trousers, "Answer me, Jaskier."

He rubs his face against the firm bulge of him, like a cat, moaning. He can't do much else.

"In your mouth?" he asks, voice low, and Jaskier moans again, soft and shaky. Geralt hums in response.

He doesn't say anything, just unbuttons his slacks, holding Jaskier back with one hand in his hair as he works them down his hips enough to pull his cock free.

Jaskier moans again, mouth falling open when Geralt rubs the head across his slightly parted lips, one hand around the base of his cock and the other still tight in Jaskier's hair. Distantly, he knows what comes next, but right now all he can process is the slick of precome on his lips and cheeks. His tongue flicks out to lick the taste from his lips. Geralt groans.

"You're so pretty on your knees, sweetheart," Geralt says, and it ignites something hot in Jaskier's gut, something ravenous. Geralt uses endearments so rarely. To hear it now lights him from the inside and Jaskier shivers with it. "You going to be good and let me fuck that sweet little mouth now?"

"Please," he rasps, barely loud enough to be heard, but Geralt makes a soft noise.

"Good boy," he breathes, and Jaskier chokes, gut clenching tight, "hands on my thighs. Don't want you tempted to touch yourself." He whines softly, but follows the directions, digging his fingers into the soft fabric of his slacks and bunching them under his hands.

As soon as he does, Geralt presses forward and Jaskier's jaw falls farther open, his length sinking between Jaskier's lips.

"Fuck," Geralt sighs. He stops about halfway and Jaskier mumbles incoherently in protest as he pulls backward before thrusting forward again, only a little deeper. "You feel so good, Jask."

He does his best to be good for him, tonguing along the length and sucking at the head as he pulls back, but it's hard to be present enough to do a good job. Mostly he just lets his jaw go slack as he whines around his length, lets his mouth and throat be used as Geralt presses in until he bottoms out, Jaskier's nose pressed to his pubic bone and buried in coarse white curls.

"Your throat's so tight," he groans above him, working his hips in short little circles as he bumps against the back of his throat. Jaskier's gone lax--he can feel the fullness, but it's only distantly uncomfortable. His fingers flex in the fabric of Geralt's trousers and his dick pulses hotly and he just...floats.

"You want me to come down your throat?" Geralt asks, breathless, and Jaskier whines, unable to respond. He does, he does, but-- "Words, Jaskier."

Geralt tugs him off his length, the red, swollen head of his cock bobbing enticingly before his lips as he pops free of Jaskier's mouth. He's enraptured with the slickness of it, the way precome beads needily at the head, the string of saliva still connecting his swollen lips to the plumpness of him.

"Words, Jaskier," Geralt repeats, tone severe, and it breaks him out of it, just a little.

He glances up at him through his eyelashes, mouth hanging open. His dick aches and his throat aches and he wants so badly for Geralt to find his pleasure in using him--wants to be good.

"Please," he forces out, "come down my throat, sir."

It's all the encouragement Geralt needs. He growls roughly as he shoves his dick back between Jaskier's lips, and Jaskier sucks and laves greedily at him, desperate to feel his release hit the back of his throat.

"Not gonna be long," Geralt warns, voice rough, and Jaskier moans brokenly, fingers tightening in his trouser fabric again.

Geralt shoves his hips against Jaskier's face twice, three times, before spilling. It's messy and thick and more than he was expecting--he chokes a little even as Geralt pulls back, gives him room to swallow.

"Shh," he's soothing, grip gone gentle in Jaskier's hair, "I know, 'm sorry, sweetheart. Swallow, love, you're fine."

Geralt's thick fingers wipe the tears from his eyes, the ones he didn't know were there, as he swallows, panting roughly.

"You did so well, Jaskier," he murmurs when Jaskier's mouth is empty again, breath rasping in his lungs, "so good for me, thank you, sweet." He shivers.

They don't move for several moments. Geralt guides Jaskier's forehead to his hip, lets him rest his head there as he catches his breath and presumably decides what to do with him. He's so hard it's painful and he can barely breathe for how badly he wants Geralt to finish him off.

Despite that, he's also aching for Geralt to deny him, to tell him he was good but not good enough, to have him sit, ignored and untouched, until his arousal dies, until he's no longer burning for it.

"How should I reward my good boy?" Geralt asks, fingers carding gently through Jaskier's hair, and he can't help but whine. Maybe someday he'll tell Geralt about how badly he wants to be denied, but right now-- "what do you want, Jaskier?"

"Wanna get off," he slurs, voice wrecked. He hardly sounds like himself.

"Do you deserve for me to jerk you off, or should I let you rub against me instead?" he asks, and the thought of that, of not being given what he really wants--

"Please," he mumbles, unable to give voice to it, "please, sir."

"You'd like that?" Geralt asks, tone conversational. Of course he knows Jaskier would like that--they've talked a little about his need for denial, talked about how hot he gets for humiliation. Geralt obviously doesn't know quite the extent of it and Jaskier had thought Geralt was choosing to go easy on him. Now he knows he's just playing the game.

Geralt steps back, settling on the client couch, and widens his thighs. Instinctively, Jaskier shuffles forward to press between them before Geralt hauls him up to straddle his thigh, knees resting on either side. He threads Jaskier's arms around his neck and Jaskier shakes with his effort to hold still.

"You don't touch yourself," Geralt says softly, "you keep your hands around my neck. I'll touch you if I want. You can move, but you're going to come in your pants, understand?"

The shivers trembling up his spine intensify and he nods, hiding his face against his arm and Geralt's neck. "Yes, sir."

"Good," he says, palms settling on Jaskier's hips, "get going, then."

Geralt's hands fall to rest on the swell of his hips, just holding, and Jaskier has to encourage himself into movement, rocking forward gently. Geralt doesn't reprimand his speed or give him directions, so he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to bite back a whine. He doesn't want to upset Geralt, wants to be good, wants--

"Hey," Geralt whispers, lips brushing Jaskier's temple, just a gentle graze, "follow what your body wants, Jaskier. There's no rules here." It's exactly what he needed to hear and he whines openly when Geralt encourages him to move faster, to chase that white-hot feeling burning in his gut.

He snaps his hips forward, grinding his cock along the press of Geralt's thigh, shifts to grind harder up against his stomach for a minute before resettling along his thigh, panting hard.

"There you go, Jaskier," he breathes, squeezing his hips gently, and Jaskier could cry for how good it feels, "good job, sweetheart, just take what you need."

"'M close," he gasps out, twisting his face to press his lips to Geralt's cheek. He hadn't been asked to kiss him and he hadn't been told it wasn't allowed, so--

"Yeah? Come on, Jask, what do you need?"

"You," he sobs out, and Geralt turns to meet his lips with his own, kissing him slow and sweet as Jaskier grinds hard against his thigh and comes in his pants, shaking and gasping into the kiss.

He rides out the feeling with shocky little rocks of his hips, eyelids fluttering, and Geralt holds him through it, palms sliding up his back and then back down, even and controlled. It's grounding and it's exactly what he needs to force himself back into control, to pull himself out of the fog of needy subspace he'd fallen into.

When he pulls back, finally, Geralt's watching his face closely before he breaks into a soft smile. "There you are," he says, voice soft and reverent, "how was it, Jask?"

"Good," he says. The word is inadequate to describe the way his entire body feels light and fuzzy, the wave of tiredness suddenly tugging his eyelids down. Geralt smiles.

"Yeah, I bet," he leans forward to kiss him, quick, "I was...okay?" Oh. Oh.

"You were perfect, love," he says, because it's true, "thank you. I wouldn't...I wouldn't trust just anyone to dom for me anymore. You did a very good job." Geralt doesn't respond outwardly with more than a nod, but Jaskier can see the way the praise lights him up from the inside, the way his smile pulls a little wider, eyes crinkling just a little more at the corners.

"Thank you, I'm...not as comfortable. Domming." Jaskier knows. They've talked about it, a little bit, about how Geralt doesn't really get the idea of finding pleasure in the power. "This was...good," he says haltingly, and Jaskier perks up.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he affirms, before ducking his head, blush spreading up his cheeks, "I...liked seeing you take your pleasure...because of me." Ah.

"You just love to spoil me," Jaskier mumbles, cupping his face and leaning forward to kiss him, soft and sweet, "no matter what role you take. My good boy."

"Ah--" Geralt makes a soft noise at the praise, pressing into Jaskier's kiss for one quick, heated moment before he pulls away, "we should...uh. We should go. I could take you home?" Geralt asks, voice low.

"Sounds like a plan, darling," Jaskier can't help but grin. His pants are sticky and uncomfortable, come rapidly cooling, and he's not looking forward to the walk back to the car, but--

"Here," Geralt says, pulling away to move to the other end of the room and rifle through a set of drawers, "go change." It's a simple skirt, colorful but not flashy, and Jaskier can tell just from looking at it that it's his size. His heart skips, chest tightening.

"You made this for me?"

"Mm," he's not looking at him, "I did." Jaskier laughs breathlessly and he feels...so light.

They leave the studio a few minutes later, Jaskier's soiled pants in a bag. In the front office, Aiden's behind his desk and Lambert's across the room in one of the waiting chairs. Interestingly, his hair is mussed and his shirt buttons are a little off.

"Lambert, don't harass my employee," Geralt burrs, tugging Jaskier after him, their arms linked, "Aiden, you can go home early, whenever you're ready."

"Will do, boss man. Thanks!" He catches Jaskier's eye and fucking winks.

He doesn't say anything about it until they're in the elevator.

"So Aiden and Lambert," he starts, not intending to give away their game but just...prod Geralt's own assumptions (he's not sure how Geralt doesn't know they're fucking, honestly) but Geralt breaks him off with a groan.

"Aiden and Lambert are...weird. Especially together. It's best not to think too hard about it," Geralt says, and Jaskier's lips twitch. They're in for a long con, alright. "So, my place or yours?"

"Mine," Jaskier purrs, leaning up to nip Geralt's jaw. Beneath his lips, Geralt shivers, "we haven't got to use my bed yet."

[beigehearts]

mmm this does intrigue me... A LOT I love the crazy hillbilly vibes fem!reader

CW: corpses(very descriptive!), blood, kidnapping, puking

It's an early morning, and the dew on the grass shines when the sun hits is. Mother is helping the servants make breakfast and father has gone into town for work. It's not often that you wake up so early, and you would like to enjoy your time outside. Mother does not like when you wander around outside because you always come back with the hem of your dress dirty and tattered. In order to avoid the wrath of your mother, you put on some pants that one of the stable boys let you borrow. Oh but if mother ever saw you in pants when not riding, then you would have to pray for your life.

You lay down in the damp grass, trees providing some shade, but sun still covering your body. It's a beautiful day, you think you may go horse back riding later. Your favorite horse, Tim Tam, would be excited to see you.

Wind blows, rustling the grass around you, sending a chill up your spine. You can just barely see your house in the distance, you walked quite a ways.

The sound of a horse clopping nears, stomping in the grass and surely leaving tracks. You sit up and look around, but can't find the source of the sound. One of the stable boys must have taken a horse out for exercise. Without warning, a horse leaps out of the trees, it rears in front of you and lets out a bellowing neigh. You gasp and scatter backwards.

The horse brings it's hooves down with a loud 'thump'. A man sits atop the horse, tall and intimidating. He dawns dark clothing, between farm clothes and noblemen clothes. There is no other way to explain it. His hair is tied up in a pony tail, and it is quite long. But that's not what catches your attention. It's his eyes. Dark and hollow, endless, hypnotizing.

You clear your throat and stand up, patting the dirt off of your pants. "Hello sir, what brings you around here?"

His voice is flat, monotone, and unchanging. "Get on."

"Excuse me?" You ask, completely baffled.

This scene reminds you of an old story your mother told you. Somewhere in Greece there are two gods, a dark one taking the woman who is amongst the flowers.

He seems angry, only slightly furrowing his brows. It's his eyes that tell you he's frustrated. He leans down, and grabs you by your bicep, gripping it tightly.

"Hey! That hurts!" You yelp out.

There's no time to react when he yanks you from the ground, seating you in front of him on the saddle.

"What are doing?!" You exclaim, unable to move with one of his arms holding you against him. He digs his stirrup into the side of his horse, and with one hand holding the reigns, rushes off.

No matter all of your screaming and crying, there is no escape or answers. Eventually your throat is raw from the yelling, and you fall silent. It feels as if you speak that blood would fill your mouth. Soon enough, a fence comes into view. Beyond the fence you can barely make out a farm house across from the acres of fields. The horse jumps the fence, and trots contently towards the house. As you get closer, you realize just how big this house is. It must be three times as big as your own house. There's a barn to the side of it, it's doors wide open, but it seems that there are no animals inside.

A servant is waiting outside of the house, and when the both of you dismount the horse, he leads it to some stables. The man who abducted you grips your wrist tightly, enough that you know there will be bruises. He remains quiet, and you do the same. The doors are grand, and he pushes through them. He leads you through the foyer and to what must be the Great Chamber of the house. Sitting in a love seat with a round wooden table in front of her, is a tall woman dawning a fascinator, and an elegant dress.

Without turning to look at you she says, "I see you obtained her Illumi. The servants are waiting in her room." So his name is Illumi?

"Thank you mother." He returns.

He leads you up excessively tall stairs and down a hall to a door with locks on the outside of it. He pushes you inside and locks the door behind you.

In the room there are three women, standing in a line with their heads bowed. "Welcome my lady." Says the woman in the middle. The woman to the left follows, "We are to wash and dress you." The woman on the right adds, "Please allow us to do so."

Soon enough, you're sitting on a chair in the nude, the women using cloths on your body. They dip them into the bucket with soapy water, and rubs the cloth up and down your body. You're dressed in under garments, and then in a round gown. Your face is covered with powder, some light lip balm rubbed against your lips, giving them a rosy tint. Lastly, your hair is styled in a way that it never has been, it takes two hours.

It's dark by the time the women unlock the door and leave. You wander around the room, examining the furniture. The curtains are drawn, so you look outside. It's hard to see anything in the dark, the light from the barn being just bright enough to see in the distance. There's a thump from below you, and you peer down closer to the house. Someone is dragging something off of the deck, but as they get further away from the house, you are unable to see them.

If being abducted weren't enough evidence, there is definitely something wrong here. When you try to speak, all that comes out are quiet whimpers and squeals. It's painful to the point you wish you had never tried to speak.

You realize that the bedroom door is cracked, leading to the dark hallway. You make your way over to the door and peek your head out, looking both ways down the hall. It's almost pitch black, the only light from a window, shining bright moonlight. You step out and find yourself wandering to the end of the long hall. A room with two doors which are wide open presents itself. A man sits on the unusually large bed, examining your every move.

He calls out to you in the darkness, "Come in. I don't bite."

You tip toe towards him, standing in front of the bed where he sits. He's large, the moonlight reveals his muscles, and glowing blue eyes. "You will make a wonderful wife." He leans forwards, and pets your face, holding your chin in his hand.

"So strong, so smart. Yes, a wonderful wife for my son." He says. You would protest but there is no way you could produce sounds from your mouth. These people are fucking crazy. "Go on now, explore your new home."

You happily do as he says, pulling your face away from his hand and scurrying out into the hall, and down the stairs. Have these people not heard about candles? They have servants, so they must be able to illuminate their house.

The house is eerily still, the air stiff. The front door, you'll go out pf the front door. But you have a feeling if you try to escape there will be someone on guard.

You push through the heavy doors, needing to put all of your weight and strength in order to open it. The door slams behind you, and you let out a sigh, wiping sweat off of your forehead. Yes, they are neurotic.

This is where you saw the person below you dragging something. There's a path in the grass where something has been pulled through. It's flattened it, leading far away.

You pick up your dress, stepping down the stairs and following the path. Eventually your arms get tired and you drop your dress to the ground, allowing it to be tainted. Your feet begin to hurt as well, so you pull off your shoes and carry them. The grass is wet, and makes a gross squelching sound when your feet meets the ground.

Soon enough a light can be seen, it's the barn. The path leads directly to the barn. Your dress is muddy, the beautiful peach color having turned into a gross black and brown color at the hems.

Your heart begins to pound as you begin to near the wooden structure. You debate turning around and going back to the house, or even trying to escape... but something compels you to continue.

The doors are shut, before they were wide open. Once you step onto the concrete in front of the doors, you wipe your feet on it. Trying to get the gross muddy feeling off, not accomplishing this. You take a moment to gather yourself, and grab the handles of one of the barn doors. Similarly to the house, the door is just as heavy. Your feet scrape against the ground as you pull on the door, causing them to bleed. Quickly you slip inside the door before it shuts on you. Your feet sting and your hands burn from the effort.

It stinks, it smells absolutely rancid. It smells like rotting bodi-...

Humans. Corpses. They hang from the ceiling upside down, being drained of their blood as farmers do with chickens. The ground is covered in blood, a puddle of it that you could swim in. Some people are pinned against boards or walls, just as Jesus was. There's a large bin in the back where bodies are piled into, hands and feet and legs and arms hanging out of it.

The smell is overwhelming. The sight is overwhelming. You fall to your knees and hang your head back, looking at all the nude corpses. Mortifying. Their faces seem to hang off of their head, as if they're melting. Well, those of them that still have faces. Some are blue and purple, some are missing arms. There arms hanging down from the bodies, as if reaching out to someone for help.

Who could do such a thing. What man would do such a horrible thing. You fall forward, holding yourself up on all fours. There's a pile of hair underneath you, and can feel the bile rising in your throat. You can't help it, everything you've eaten in the past week comes pouring out. But at least it smells better than the bodies.

A hand pats your back, and weakly you turn your head to look up. There, 'Illumi' stands, watching you with emotionless eyes.

He looks at the travesty in front of him and back at you. "It would have been best that you stay in the house." He walks forward, and reaches out, touching the hand of one of the hanging corpses. He grips the hand and rips it off of the body, but there's no blood left in that body to come out. It's bloated and diseased, but he throws it into the bin of bodies.

"Go to bed. I will send breakfast and medicinal herbs to your room in the morning." Before waiting for an answer or a reaction, he leaves, leaving you leaning over your own puke.

You would stuff your face in the puke if that meant not smelling the rot anymore. Instead you hurry out of the barn and collapse on the concrete. 'Oh god, oh god please spare me' repeats in your head. It can only get better, right?

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 5

Word count: 4.0K

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Adam: You followed me

I stare at the three words, blinking with tired eyes. All I want to do is sleep, especially after the day I’ve had with Holden, but the baby decided kicking me was more important. So here I am at four o’clock in the morning checking my social media when I should be getting another three hours of sleep.

I rub my eyes, unsure of how to even respond to the message.

It’s just a statement. I feel flabbergasted by it- really, we haven’t talked in years- well, technically months, but the last time we saw each other we just fucked, and our child went to see him without my knowledge or consent. How the fuck am I supposed to respond to those three words?

Y/N: I think we need to talk.

I sigh, setting my phone down. Might as well get straight to the point. The sooner I tell him about the second baby and ask why he would see Holden without at least running it past me the better. I roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Hopefully I can sleep at least a little bit longer. I’m going to need it to deal with the moody adolescent I’ll be seeing in the morning.

~

“I made some toast and bacon. Just let me just finish cutting up these strawberries and then breakfast will be ready,” I inform Holden as he hops down the stairs.

He picks up the filled plate waiting for him on the table, throwing the food into the trashcan and setting the plate on the counter, giving me an expectant look.

I stare blankly back at him. I know he’s waiting for a reaction. He wants me to blow up so then he feels okay yelling at me instead of starting the confrontation himself. Instead, I just say, “That’s wasteful.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his backpack from its usual spot by the door and making his way outside, letting it slam shut behind him. I release the breath that I’ve been holding in, popping a strawberry into my mouth.

I open my Instagram app to catch up on the posts that I’ve missed, freezing when I see that I’ve received a DM. I forgot that I sent a message to Adam last night. Well, technically this morning. After I sent the message, I passed out hard, and I thought the whole thing was a fever dream.

Adam: What about?

Adam: Here’s my number

My fingers tap the screen quietly as I add his phone number into my contacts, saving it and staring at it blankly.

Well. No time like the present.

Before I can even realize what I’m doing, before I can even think things through and decide what to say or whether this is a good idea or not, or hell, even what time it is in Chicago right now, I click on the phone icon.

I curse to myself, raising the phone to my ear. Absentmindedly, my hand raises to my mouth so I can chew on my fingernail. Nail-biting is a nervous habit that I gave up years ago, but I guess old habits die hard.

“Hello?” His groggy voice comes through the phone.

I can’t breathe.

The oxygen gets stuck in my lungs. All I can think about are his hands on my body, sliding down to grip my hips. The twinkle in his eyes as I would pull my shirt over my head.

And not to mention the last time I saw him. His hair is longer than he used to keep it, but it suits him. It looks good on him. And he bulked up since the last time I saw him, too- his abs definitely looked and felt like it, anyways.

“Hello?” He repeats, sounding more awake and borderline annoyed now.

“Adam,” I respond softly, suddenly feeling shy. Come on, where did my confidence go? I’ll need it to get through this conversation.

“Y/N,” he says, all sounds of annoyance out of his voice. “You actually called, I didn’t think that you would-“”Sorry for waking you up,” I blurt out, glancing at the clock and seeing that it’s seven in the morning here. Chicago is an hour behind Philadelphia- it’s what kept me from calling the boys on the team late at night for several years.

“Oh, no, no, don’t you ever worry about that,” he reassures me. It’s quiet. I know he’s waiting for me to speak, to let him know what I want to talk to him about, but I just can’t get the words out. I feel them stuck in my throat, clawing to escape. “So, how’s Holden?”

And there it is.

That question is what spurs me to speak, to dig into the man who hid a huge secret like that from me. But I guess I’m doing the same thing to him now.

“I don’t know, how is he, Adam?” I spit out.

He sighs. He sighs. I want to punch his perfect fucking face.

“If I had realized that you had such a problem with it-“”Such a problem with it?” I repeat, not believing my own ears. Suddenly I’m reminded of why I decided not to tell Adam about this baby and why he wasn’t ready to be in Holden’s life for thirteen years. Hell, it sounds like he’s still not ready.

“My son lied to me about his intentions of going to Chicago, traveled halfway across the country by himself, and saw someone who he’s never met before. Yes, I have a fucking problem with it,” I growl.

“Our son.”

“What?”

“He’s our son. You said my son.”

All I want to do right now is to reach through this tiny screen and hit him upside the head. Really, after I lay out all of my concerns, this is all he has to say to me?

“Whatever. When are you coming to Philadelphia next?” I question. I don’t want to air all of grievances and talk about the new baby over the phone. I’ve had enough communication classes to know that you need to see someone’s nonverbal behaviors instead just hearing what they have to say.

“Why? You want to see me?” Suggestion laces his tone.

No, asshole, you already got me pregnant again.

“Yes. We need to talk about Holden… and some other things,” my voice trails off at the end, not sure how to warn him about such big news.

“Some other things, eh? Well, I’ll be looking forward to that,” he responds, clearly thinking that it’s something regarding us and our relationship, well, our dislike or lust for one another or something, instead of picking up what I’m trying to hint at.

“Cool. So, can you take a trip to Philly sometime soon or are you going to wait until hockey season?” I inquire.

“I can take a trip there, just for you. And Holden, of course.”

I can’t help but let a small smile slip onto my face. That sentence shows me that he’d be a good dad if he just put in the effort. It infuriates me that he’s kept that from Holden for years just because he hasn’t felt like working towards a relationship with his son.

“Good. Let me know when you’re in town so we can meet up.”

“What? You’re not going to invite me to stay with you?”

“Goodbye, Adam.” I hang up before he can respond. All I can imagine the rest of the day is his reaction after that phone call. He would have that small, knowing smile on his face, pulling his phone out of his pocket every five minutes to check and see if he got a new text from me or to send the fifth one in a row to me- one that I still would not respond to.

And my heart skips a beat at the thought of that.

~

It’s been a week since the phone call and since Adam sent me a screenshot of his booked ticket to Philadelphia two weeks from then. For some reason, maybe it’s the stupid, hopeless romantic part in me, I had hoped that he would book his plane ticket and hotel room for that night or even the next day. But he told me he had some ‘lose ends’ to tie up in Chicago before leaving.

And it’s also been a week since Holden has said a word to me. I’ve tried talking to him. I’ve asked him about his day, his friends, cooked him his favorite meals all week, I even offered to take him to Target to get a new video game.

None of that has worked. And it hurts. It hurts knowing that after everything I’ve done for him and everything I’ve sacrificed for him, and how Adam has done none of that, he looks at Adam like a God and me like the scum on the bottom of his shoe.

I know it’s what I’m supposed to do as a mother, care for my son and make sure he’s happy, but it’s just- it’s just- ugh.

I start to feel my blood boil as my mom’s voice echoes in the back of my head. Life’s not fair.

It’s then that I realize that I’ve given him enough space and time to figure out his feelings and how he wants to proceed. I don’t want to give him too much space that he begins to resent me and feel like I don’t care about him.

I know that feeling all too well.

I knock on his bedroom door softly, waiting for him to open it before I just walk in. It creeks open slightly, and just as I expected, eyes matching my mom’s peek out to glare at me.

“Can I talk to you, Holden?”

He doesn’t respond, just stares at me.

“Please, you don’t even have to talk, just listen,” I beg.

Fortunately, he opens the door the rest of the way, watching as I walk into his room and sit gently on the edge of the bed. He sits down on his worn computer chair, laptop open to some video game I don’t recognize on his desk.

“I want to start by apologizing for yelling at you last week,” I begin, taking a deep breath. Apologizing isn’t something that comes easy to me- I grew up in a family where the words ‘I’m sorry’ were unheard of. My parents were always right, and I was always wrong.

“I realize it probably wasn’t easy for you to go to Chicago by yourself to meet your dad. Holden, I just want you to realize that I would do anything to protect you, and I love you with my whole heart so realizing that you were in such an emotionally taxing situation without talking to me about it first-“I pause to sniffle, starting to feel tears well up in my eyes. “I felt helpless. And I couldn’t stop wondering why you didn’t feel like you could share that with me and then I realized that it’s because I don’t share stuff with you either.”

He watches as I lift my sleeve, wiping the tears from under my eyes. His face is still blank, but his eyes look like they’ve softened. He’s understanding my words so far.

“So, yes, this baby is also Adam’s baby. And he did ask about you when I saw him back in February, but I let my pride get the best of me and I told him that he didn’t deserve to see you. I’m sorry for robbing you of meeting your father earlier,” I genuinely apologize, maintaining eye contact with my son.

He shifts in his seat, his hard exterior softening with every word. “Well, I’m sorry for calling you a shitty mother. And saying all of that other stuff. And, if it makes you feel better, I did go to the computer programming camp. I just saw Adam when we had a night off.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nods.

“What did he tell you? About not being involved in your life?” I ask carefully, curious as to what Adam told Holden to turn him against me like that.

“He just told me that he was working through some stuff,” he shrugs, acting like he doesn’t care but I know my son well enough to tell that he does. “And he wasn’t ready until recently to meet me.”

I bite my tongue to keep it from releasing an insult towards Adam. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Honestly?” I nod, probing him to go on. “Pretty awful. I don’t think I want a relationship with him, mom.”

A mix of emotions run through my body at his word. I feel anxious, because now I have to tell him that Adam’s coming next week and will want to see him, sadness, because my son now recognizes how his father did not want be involved in his life, and anger toward Adam for making him feel like this in the first place.

“Well,” I cough awkwardly. “He’s coming to Philadelphia next week. I’m going to meet him to tell him about the baby. If you don’t want to see him, you don’t have to. It’s all up to you, bud.”

I stand up slowly, rubbing my belly as the baby begins to kick. He always seems to do that whenever I move even just a little bit- he’s an active little guy.

“Oh,” I turn back around just as I’m about to close the door. “How did you even find out who your father is?”

“Please mom, I’m not stupid,” he grins slyly at me, sliding his headphones onto his neck. “You lived in Chicago when you got pregnant with me and worked for the Blackhawks. I figured, since you said you worked a lot, the only guys you really had a chance to be with were on the team. And when I asked you about my dad for that project for school you said he was Swedish, so I just went to the Blackhawks roster in 2020 and found the Swedish players, messaging them some really uncomfortable and intrusive messages on Instagram.”

I chuckle at that, shaking my head. It will never not blow my mind how clever and smart he is. As I close the door to his bedroom, I hear him say, “On the plus side, Alex Nylander is a really nice guy.”

~

The day is finally here. Being eighteen weeks pregnant makes it really hard to hide my baby bump, but I somehow manage to find a baggy sweatshirt that I’ve stolen from one of my ex-boyfriends to cover it up. I don’t want to walk into the restaurant we’re meeting at and have him immediately know.

Somehow my jeans still fit on my legs, but I have a feeling by the end of this lunch they’ll be unbuttoned. It’s just the way it goes sometimes.

I get to the restaurant before Adam, just like how I planned it. I wanted time to scope out my exits in case I need to bail halfway through this meal- knowing Adam, it’s a possibility. I haven’t thought through what I was going to say too much.

I know I need to talk to him about why he would keep Holden going to Chicago to see him a secret from me, and we need to talk about the baby.

But mostly I just want to hear him grovel. The secret, sadistic part of me wants to hear him beg for forgiveness for making me raise my child by myself for the past thirteen years. I want to hear him admit that he fucked up- I’ve never heard Adam Boqvist admit that he fucked up before.

He shows up two minutes late.

I know because my phone is sitting face up on the table and I click on it every five seconds to see what time it is. I tell myself that if it gets ten minutes past noon and he’s still not here, I’m going home and giving up on dealing with Adam ever again.

But then he’s standing in front of me, familiar toothy grin on his face, black beanie on his shaggy hair, and a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

“You’re late,” I state sternly, not letting any sign of emotion onto my face. I need to let him know I mean business. I need to let him know that I’m never getting into bed with him ever again.

“Yeah, sorry, there was a line at the grocery store,” his grin begins to slip, but as he holds the bouquet out towards me, it takes over his face once again. “I got you these.”

“Thanks.”

I don’t make any movement towards them. His smile falls once again and I begin to feel guilty- he did buy these flowers for me, but he also impregnated me and left me twice.

He slides into the chair across the table from me, setting the flowers on the table and coughing awkwardly. “So, have you ordered yet?”

“Just water,” I respond shortly.

“Do you want to split a bottle of wine?”

“I’m not really a day drinker,” I eye him over the top of my menu, then go back to skimming through the items. It’s a charade, though. I already know what I want.

“Are you two ready to order?” The peppy waitress appears at our side, notepad open in her hand.

“I’ll have the chicken alfredo,” I announce, folding my menu.

“I’ll take that too. And a bottle of your sweetest wine, please,” the blonde orders, passing his menu to the waitress. When she leaves, he turns back to me. “I know you like the sweet stuff.”

I take a deep breath, deciding to cut to the chase. I’d rather get through this meal as soon as possible. The sooner we get done talking about this stuff, the sooner I can get out of here.

“Adam, I’m pregnant.”

He chokes on the sip of water he’s just taken from his glass, water dripping down his chin and landing on the table in front of him. I can’t help but watch with a content smile as he coughs, trying to catch his breath.

“Excuse me?” He utters through coughs, wiping his chin with a napkin.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeat. “I’m due in November.”

“Well, uh, congratulations,” he says unsurely.

I roll my eyes, muttering, “You clearly haven’t gotten smarter since last time.”

He seems to catch on to the hidden meaning behind my comment, his eyes widening. “Oh is it- since we-“”It’s your baby,” I conclude bluntly.

A smirk begins to spread across his face. I can’t believe it. He’s smirking just after I told him that he got me pregnant accidentally for the second time.

“Why do you have that look?” I snap.

“My little swimmers work pretty well, don’t they?” He inquires confidently, sipping from his water and succeeding this time.

I lean across the table, turning it on him. “I don’t know, do they? Are there any half-siblings that I need to worry about?”

The smirk is replaced by a look of genuineness now. It startles me, the sudden change of emotions. “No, it’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

I lean back in my seat, the sudden seriousness too much for me to bear. I fiddle with the napkin sitting next to my glass, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yeah, so it’s a boy.”

“Another boy,” he echoes my very thoughts the moment I found out the sex.

I grin at the thought of my second child. When he’s been kicking me at night and keeping me awake, I think about what he’s going to be like. Is he going to cry a lot or is he going to be a quiet baby like Holden was? Will I have to keep an eye on him every minute or will I be able to get some breaks?

And what about when he’s older. Will he like hockey like his dad? Would he like the Flyers because we live in Philadelphia, or would he like the Blackhawks because his dad plays for them?

“Speaking of boys, how is Holden doing? He hasn’t been responding to my texts lately.” Adam means for the question to sound casual, but I can hear the undertone of worry in his voice. Maybe he isn’t as much of a shitty father as I think he is.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” I confess.

He doesn’t bother to hide the hurt on his face. I don’t expect him to. I know how it feels to feel unwanted and unloved by your child- I felt it when Holden told me that I’m a shitty mother. And although Adam deserves the consequences to his actions, I can’t help but feel a small amount of pity for him.

“I deserve that,” he sighs.

“You do,” I agree, knowing that I’m shoving the knife deeper into his heart. “But just give him time to decide what he wants to do. It’s all so fresh to him.”

He gives me a small, vulnerable smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to see you while he was in Chicago, Adam?” I ask him the question I’ve been dying to ask ever since I found out about the situation.

He shrugs, not saying a word.

“Yes, you do know,” I persist. “So just fucking tell me. Enough of the bullshit, we’re in our thirties now. It’s time to focus on the children, not your fucking pride.”

He looks baffled by my sudden outburst, but it inspires him to answer. “I was afraid that if you found out, you would stop him. Then I’d never get to meet my son.”

“I would have stopped him,” I agreed, causing him to open his mouth to begin arguing with me. I start to speak again before he can begin. “And reschedule the trip to a time that works better with my work schedule so that I could go with him. Yes, you’re his father, but you’ve never been in his life. You’re essentially a stranger to him.”

He narrows his eyes at me like my words are a challenge. “Not anymore.”

I narrow my eyes at him now. “Really? What’s his middle name? When is his birthday? What’s his favorite color?”

He doesn’t respond and I scoff, taking a sip of my water again. “That’s what I thought.”

We’re quiet as the waitress returns with our meals. I cut my noodles, taking a bite of my food.

“I don’t want it to be that way with this baby,” he says, quickly adding, “And Holden anymore. I want to be there for this baby from the start. Or from now, I guess. And I want to be there for Holden, if he ever wants me.”

Mixed feelings begin to flush through my body. This is what I wanted for my kids from the beginning, an active father figure. And Adam’s offering it now, but why am I still feeling so hesitant?

After years of expecting him to step up as a parent and him never doing it, I have reasonable doubts when it comes to Adam’s parenting ability.

“Well, you know it’s up to Holden. You can’t force him to like you,” I begin slowly, trying to phrase my words in the best way possible. “But with this second baby… we can try it. I have a doctor’s appointment in two days. I’ll text you the address and time.”

“But my flight leaves tomorrow,” he whines. “Can’t you just reschedule for today?”

“You have so much to learn, Adam,” I shake my head. “I just hope you realize that being a parent means that you’re selfless more than selfish. Tell you what, go back to Chicago if you want to. But if you go back to Chicago, the only time you’ll communicate with the boys is when they want to talk to you.”

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 2

Summary:

The line of business brings Woods back to the CIA offices, only this time with his long time friend Alex Mason in tow. It's been quite some time since he's seen you, and in his mind, it's all for the better. But, when yet more errand work sends you on a mission to seek the Sargent out, and with a little help from Alex's social input, Woods is forced to brush against some rather confusing emotions.

Tags: Slow burn

Chpt 1 | Warnings: None except Frank and now also Alex's language

Woods and Mason walk leisurely through the halls of the CIA offices, making their way to the nearest exit after a status report with Hudson. Frank, who zoned out within roughly five minutes, is getting the abridged details from Alex. Something about a task force and the cold war, not much to go on yet, but Woods will take anything that isn’t pretending to be an average citizen all day.

Alex wraps up quickly and the two slip into friendly chatter. Most of which is snarky remarks at Hudson’s expense. As they go back and forth, Mason tells a good one that has Frank doing that hacking, bark of a laugh. He looks away to wipe a tear, committing the joke to memory so he can taunt Hudson with it later, but as Mason’s laughter begins to fade, a new sound fills Frank’s ear.

A pair thud quietly from down the hall in a half step pattern that could only indicate a pair of heels. Ever the ladies man, Frank’s gaze lingers a little longer to scout out who the approaching individual could be, only to see, to his terror, that it’s you.

“Who are you looking a-?”

“Fuck! Move”, Woods cuts Mason off with an urgent, but hushed voice before gruffly shoving him into a darkened side office.

He closes the door sharply, then whips around to peek through the blinds to see if they were spotted as Mason tries to steady himself. Alex dusts off his shoulders as Frank retreats further into the room beside him, “Alright, I don’t think anybody sa-”

“Woah woah woah, stop. The fuck is wrong with you, huh? What was that all about?”, Alex motions to the doorway, greatly and understandably annoyed.

Frank thinks for a moment. How can he explain this?

It’s been a few weeks now since he last saw you, which… was actually the first time he saw you… But, that’s all to his master plan of avoiding you, of course. It’s just, he really needs to find a way to patch things over with you. Ever since those parting few words he left you with, he's honestly surprised you didn’t sign his ass up for a psyc eval list. Damn, that’s the last thing he’d need. They’ll never let him hold a gun again if they got those shit show results back.

“So there, see? I just need to make sure she doesn't think I’ve lost my shit, and this whole thing can blow over. I’m just… not fucking sure what to say!”

Alex squints his eyes, trying to make sense of the bullshit he's just heard. The bad news is, his good old pal is one fucked up son of a bitch, but the even worse news is he doesn't have the time nor the patience to try and come up with something placating to say to the old Sargent. Instead, Mason settles for some reasoning and hopes it sticks.

“Look, if she hasn’t said anything yet, then I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. Now can we get out of this place?”, he takes a few strides towards the door and reaches for the handle, before being jerked back by Frank.

“Were you not fucking listening? It's too risky! Let’s at least let her get out of ear shot first, huh?”

“Did you fucking hit your head or some shit? I’m not waiting in here all day damn it! How about this, the faster we get out of here, the less chance you’ll have of running into her, ok? So we should leave. Now.”

Woods seems as though he’s about to protest, but Mason is already halfway out the door. The Sargent swears under his breath, but follows swiftly after his long time friend. For Frank’s sake, Alex sets the pace to a hustle as he power walks through the halls. So far, so good, as they weave around corners and hurry through the labyrinth of offices and meeting rooms, until…

“Sargent? Sargent Woods, wait a minute please!”

His heart flutters quickly at the sound of you calling his name, a sensation he hasn't experienced in... decades, at least. He thinks he’s never been so nervous for that to happen in his entire life. So, wh-?

“Ah, there you are”, you take a quick huff of air, a slight bit winded from the sprint you did to catch up, “Agent Hudson sent some papers down the line and I’ve been told to give them to you, he said you should still be in the building”

Hudson… Of fucking course.

Miraculously, Frank manages to bite back a few choice words he has in mind and accepts the document with a muttered thanks. He flips through it quickly while you and Mason strike up a quick conversation. It appears to be a transcript of the meeting the three of them just have, most likely kept on record for security purposes, but released to him ‘just in case’ he missed anything. His jaw twitches in agitation at the passive reprimand. Funny.

“-hat’s a nice dress you’ve got there… The color really brings out your eyes, you know”

A snippet of Mason’s conversation with you makes its way to Wood’s attention. You laugh politely and then with amusement as Alex bends down to get a good look at your irises, “In fact, they almost look… Yep! Wow... that is one beautiful shade of-”

Woods snaps the folder shut, shattering the mood, even as you shyly twirl a bit of your hair at the attention. “Alright, well thanks, but we gotta get going”, he makes a pointed look at Mason, before half leading, half dragging the man out after him.

Alex wrenches his arm free and shoots one more comment over his shoulder as he walks along, “Maybe some other time!”, he laughs. And as you giggle back and affirm that yes, that would be wonderful, Frank truly becomes concerned he might have a stroke from all the blood roaring in his ears.

At last, the pair finds their way outside and Frank starts to relax.

“Damn. You know, I’m not that type of guy or anything… But if I wasn’t married? ...Woof”

Woods stops dead in his tracks, and suddenly, he finds himself going from 1 to 1000 again. He whips around on his friend, “Hey, what the fuck Mason? ‘If I wasn’t married’, if you weren’t married what, huh? What's that shit supposed to mean?”, Frank gives Alex's shoulder a little shove, hard enough to stagger him, but gentle enough that it could be interpreted as playful.

Thankfully, Alex takes it as the latter. He rubs his shoulder in mock hurt, “Geez, calm the fuck down Frank, I’m just joking. And anyway, why do you care? Did you claim dibs when no one was looking?”

Alex walks on, thinking nothing of the comment as he does, instead a little bewildered at what’s come over his friend. It isn’t like him to get so defensive over just some woman. Not even if he was getting her in bed.

“Yeah… Well, maybe I just don’t think you should be saying shit like that, alright? Besides, you don’t even know her”, he jerks a thumb back towards the looming CIA offices.

Alex digs out his car keys, “Pft, know her? Like that’s ever stopped you before”, he scoffs. The two climb into Mason’s car as he starts the engine and buckles up. He sets one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift, before pausing briefly. Alex turns to Frank and takes a long look, “...Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You’re not acting like yourself Frank…”

The Sargent snorts, “Aw come on, the fuck are you talking about? I’m fine! Let’s just… Let’s get out of here, huh? Hanging around Hudson always fucks me up, you know?”

Mason sits back in his seat slowly, trying to decide if he buys the story. Maybe he doesn’t entirely, but he’s willing to let it go for now. “Heh, I hear that. How’s some beers sound?”

“You know what? Sure. Hey... but only if you’re buying!”, more barks of laughter escape him as they drive off. Honestly? He’ll take anything to not have to think about why he’s so fucked up over you right now.

[bruhstories]

Vogel und Jäger

- PART THREE

Summary: You had your first show at Zeke's club, but things begin to complicate. Pairing: Zeke Jeager x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, Floch is a creep Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: as always, make sure to read parts one and two to understand just what the hell is happening. the songs reader is singing in this chapter are flickers and easy by son lux, which i've linked down below if you wanna listen to it as you read

For five long days you switched between training with Mikasa and practising with the band. The deadly assassin made you work hard, teaching you various techniques of martial arts, as well as how to load and unload guns, how to aim, how to use knives and even how to use crossbows. You were no match to anyone else in the family, getting your ass kicked even by Armin, the bookkeeper, but you were not going to give up. Your will to survive fuelled you. What you weren’t expecting in those five days was to get to know Mikasa and Armin, and realise that they were just as normal as you were — with the added benefit of being properly trained in marksmanship and combat. And they were surprisingly nice to you, but there was a hint of reluctance in their actions and words.

Friday night you had your first show and you found yourself in the backstage, a knot in your throat as you did your makeup. The idea of Yelena blowing your brains out was a lot more pleasant than having to perform in front of so many people. Posters had been put up all over Paradis City announcing your first show at Wings Club, and you knew lots of undercover policemen would be there, perhaps even undercover Marleyans. But for some odd reason, you wanted to please Zeke, make him proud of sparing your pathetic life. Onyankopon told you to be ready in five minutes, and your heart sank, wiping your sweaty palms on the crimson dress.

"You'll do fine." He told you, but you had a bad feeling. There were guards everywhere, so you felt somewhat safe, but stage fright settled in your heart, and you couldn't even reply anything back. All you did was remain stuck in a trance.

The band was ready, the microphone was on, and you waited for the curtain to rise. Someone announced your performance, and the violinist began playing the notes of the first song as the spectators waited eagerly. There were no original songs, only jazz covers, and you felt every single pair of irises burning into your skin. You closed your eyes, imagining no one was there but you and the band, everyone else disappeared.

"And with my opened mouth I join the singing light..."

There was no turning back now. You'd done it. The spotlight was on you and you alone. Soon the pianist joined, and you felt a bit more confident.

"I can see the flickers, over me the lantern raised... Lift me up, lift me over it. Show me what you're hiding, take me out into the sea... Lift me up, lift me over it."

Somewhere upstairs, Zeke was watching over you, door wide open to hear your beautiful voice hypnotising every man and woman in the club. Indeed, he made the right choice.

"And with my opened mouth I join the singing light..."

You were in a trance. Nothing mattered anymore but the music, the vibrations, the thrill of the show. It was giving you a sense of importance and belonging, and in that moment, you knew it — you were thriving off of the attention, the way no one dared to move while you sang. You captivated the spectators with your voice, you captivated Zeke with your voice.

"I can see the flickers, over me the lantern raised... Lift me up, lift me over it. Show me what you're hiding, take me out into the sea... Lift me up, lift me over it."

You finally opened your eyes, drinking in the way everyone was silent, the only sound resonating being the final notes from the musical instruments. The next songs came so much easier to you, some were more upbeat and you stopped being stiff, your hands moving up and down the microphone pole, hips swaying, head tilting. You ended your performance with another emotional song, and even you had goosebumps on your skin as you began to sing.

"Easy... easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy..."

You saw them, the two cops from the files. They were watching you like hawks, sending chills down your spine. But you were a distraction, so you looked them in the eye, a smile on your plump lips.

"Easy, easy... You break the bridle to make losing control easy, easy... Crushed what you're holding so you can say letting go is easy, easy..."

The song was coming to an end. You wrapped your arms around yourself to emphasise the emotions you were so gently transmitting, voice echoing in the club.

"Oh, easy, easy... Burn all your things to make the fight to forget easy, oh, easy... Burn all your things to make the fight to forget easy, easy..."

You weren't just transmitting an emotion, you were feeling it, too. The song resonated with your life, your struggles, your issues. You were alone most of your life, save for Historia and the children. But now... now you had someone, albeit being forced to work for the mafia. But you weren't alone anymore.

"Easy... easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy..."

You bowed in front of the crowd as a round of applause replaced your voice and music. It was exhilarating, the adrenaline not wanting to leave your body. You mumbled a soft thank you in the microphone before leaving the stage, tripping on the last step. Onyankopon was waiting for you with a large bouquet of peonies and daffodils, your eyes widening at the beautiful flowers and sweet scent.

"This is for you, miss." He smiled, but his smile was hiding something and you couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to!"

"Oh, it's not from me." Onyankopon pursed his lips. There it was. You looked at the card attached to the bouquet — You are as radiating as the sun, but as cold as the moon. E.S. The message was written in perfectly neat calligraphy.

"E.S.? Any idea who that might be?" You tucked the card between the flowers as you walked with the mobster in the dressing room.

"I know exactly who that is." He sighed, eyes narrowing at the bouquet. "Inspector Erwin Smith, chief of police. He handed me the flowers personally."

"Isn't he working for you?" You removed the heavy earrings from your earlobes.

"He is. It appears he likes you." Onyankopon folded his arms across his chest and a man with strawberry-blond hair entered the room, earning disgusted looks from all the half-naked girls there.

"Boss wants to see you." He sneered at you, goosebumps dotting your arms.

"We'll be upstairs soon, Floch."

"No, not you. Just birdie. Chop chop." Floch left the room and you got up. Onyankopon grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks before giving you a concerned gaze.

"Be careful around him. He's... strange."

"I'll keep my guard up." You tried to smile. There were lots of things you didn't know about the men you were working with, so you made a mental note to ask Sasha and Connie about Floch.

"So, I hear you're a prostitute." He bluntly stated, and you flinched at his words. The audacity of this bitch!

"Was." You corrected him. "Besides, it's none of your business."

Your shoulder blades met with a wall and you let out a whimper at the impact. Floch eyed you up and down, his hands holding you in place.

"Everything you do is my business." He sneered, his face leaning closer inch by inch, closing the gap between you. "Ah, you even smell like a whore."

You feel disgusted by that creep, the way he sniffed you twisting your lips into a frown. Onyankopon was right to warn you, and so you slap his face, hard.

"Don't touch me again." You lifted your gown above your ankles and walked up the stairs, with Floch behind you. Fucking pervert.

"Ah, little bird, you've been fantastic!" Zeke greeted you, cigarette between his fingers. "I heard you even received flowers."

"Yes, from Erwin Smith." You nod, eyes on Floch's shit-eating grin.

"Good. I want you to meet with him after your show tomorrow." Your boss smiled and your eyes drifted to the healing wound in your left hand. You knew you caouldn't say no. "I suspect he'll want to recruit you as a double agent."

"Do I accept?"

"Of course, but you'll be telling him exactly what I tell you."

"Understood."

"You may go. Don't forget to take your pay from Armin."

"Yes, sir." You gently bowed your head in respect and left. Floch whispered whoreas you passed him and you gritted your teeth.

"Say, Connie, can I ask you something?" You watched your roommate unbox some bottles of fancy liquor.

"Sure! What's on your mind?" He asked, focused on his task.

"What can you tell me about Floch?"

Connie almost dropped the bottle, his eyes finding yours. "Just that you should stay away from him."

Sasha walked in with what you assumed to be a bag full of drugs and that's when it clicked — they were going to put the drugs in the boxes and ship them. Clever.

"Floch is insane." The brown-eyed girl scrunched her nose. "He's obsessed with Eren and thinks Zeke should step down and let his brother take his place. Why? Did he do anything to you?"

"Yes and no." You proceeded to explain what happened back at the club to your roommates and the look of disgust on their faces only confirmed what you assumed.

So far, you decided to only trust Sasha, Connie and Onyankopon, and hope that Zeke wouldn't give up his title. Otherwise, you'd end up dead in a ditch, and the one who’d put a bullet between your eyes was Floch himself.

tagging @mxhi

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter six: no one but you

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 5.6K

A/N: i sincerely hope you guys like the way this ends, it’s always so nerve-wracking to end a story! the epilogue to this story is posted as well and linked.  thank you to every single person who sent sweet messages of support it means the world to me.  SMUT WARNINGS APPLY IN THIS CHAPTER: oral (m/f), unprotected sex (only in fiction y’all) and hoseok thirst.

of course, i cannot post this story without shouting out some of the most supportive, killer people on this site.  you guys truly mean the world to me @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna​ @taetaewonderland​ @hobi-gif​

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*********************

There are perks to being the boss.

For Namjoon, it means calling the shots on the streets from his office in the sky.  Rarely does he leave the climate-controlled comfort of his pristine headquarters to get his hands dirty in the day-to-day business of the organization he runs.

Tonight, he’s making an exception.

Yoongi drives. Like a bat out of hell, as always.

It’s a thirty-minute ride from downtown Seoul to Incheon Port without traffic but Yoongi is on pace to finish it in just twenty.  Hoseok watches the lights on the expressway speed by from the backseat.  He tries hard to focus on the information Namjoon shares, the details he’ll need in order to ensure he doesn’t put himself or anyone else in danger tonight.  

But fuck, it’s so hard to concentrate with the taste of you still on his lips.  

He scrubs a hand down his face and takes a deep breath.  He forces himself to push the memory of your body in his hands and your skin in his mouth and your voice in his ear to the corner of his mind.  

Then he goes over the information again.

Namjoon wants to be in place at least ten minutes before the scheduled meet so he can figure out what’s going on before the Ssijog knows he’s there with his men.  

He wants guns to stay holstered unless he gives the signal.

He wants --

“You must have really scared the shit out of that guy, Jung,” Namjoon murmurs from the front seat.  Hoseok snaps back into focus to search for his boss’s reflection in the side mirror and finds Namjoon already looking at him. “He’s been blowing up his contact since last night, begging for personal protection.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t do worse,” Hoseok shrugs.  “I certainly could have.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” Namjoon agrees.  “Someday you’ll have to tell me the story of how you managed to be outside of his apartment when his handler picked him up.  Here I was, under the impression you had the night off.”

Hoseok swallows thickly.

“Just doing my job.”

There’s a twist to Namjoon’s mouth that Hoseok can’t read and it puts him on edge.  

“Well, I must thank you for your dedication to your job,” Namjoon continues. “You’ve really gone above and beyond the call of duty for this assignment.”

Hoseok looks away from the mirror.  “Yeah, sure,” he says quietly.  

The car falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Yoongi clears his throat.  

“So anyway --” he announces loudly, “-- Jimin and Tae were able to track Kang’s texts through some internet bullshit they mess around with. Apparently dude flipped out after you left his place and wouldn’t let up until his handlers agreed to meet him tonight.”

“At Incheon Port?” Hoseok asks, glad for the redirect.  “That’s a hell of a drive for a chat.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Namjoon says under his breath.  

The car falls silent once again.

**********************

Mun Kiwoo has a reputation for being messy.

The man at the top sets the tone for the organization, and Mun is no exception.  His men are known for their brutality, his deals often go south, and by most accounts his syndicate is hanging on by a thread.

But it’s still hanging on.

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi watch quietly from their vantage point behind a shipping container as Mun waits in the dark, cigarette in hand. He looks like an unmade bed -- shirt rumpled and half-tucked into his wrinkled dress pants.  He lights one cigarette off of another as he answers a series of calls on his cell.  

His agitation seems to rise each time it rings again.

Hoseok takes stock of the two guards Mun has at his side tonight.  They’re bulky men with huge arms and round bodies -- the kind of guys who look dangerous due to sheer size, but would be slow to respond in a physical fight.  Namjoon holds up two fingers to confirm they’re the only men with Mun and Hoseok nods.

Headlights bounce off the pavement after a few more minutes of waiting.

A black car pulls up close to the water’s edge and Mun Kiwoo ends his call just as he lights another cigarette.  

Kang Donghyuk is the first out of the car, followed closely by his Ssijog handler.  Kang is dragging his ass and even from a distance, Hoseok can make out the bandage over the side of his face.

Hope it hurts, motherfucker.

“Mr. Kang,” Mun Kiwoo’s voice is clear now, loud enough for all three men to hear.  “You have been rather insistent about this meeting. I’m a busy guy.  What do you want?”

All three men strain to listen to Donghyuk’s response, but it’s too muffled to catch.  Yoongi brings his hands to his throat to make a choking gesture.  Can’t hear shit, he mouths.  You choked him too hard.

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“That sounds like your problem,” Mun laughs in response to whatever Kang has said.  “Not mine.”

Donghyuk gestures wildly as he tries to make his case, likely pleading for the protection of the Ssijog.   Mun Kiwoo looks unmoved.

“I’m not interested in causing any more trouble with the Gajog, Mr. Kang.  This entire situation has been a means to an end.  Stirring more shit with Kim Namjoon is not in my best interest.”

Namjoon signals to Yoongi and Hoseok that it’s time to move.  All three men step out from their cover behind the shipping container, hands in front of their bodies to demonstrate none are holding their weapons.

“Fucking hell,” Mun Kiwoo groans when he spots them.  “I don’t have time for this shit.”

His guards bow up at his side, both men reaching for their guns.  Mun has the good sense to raise a hand and stop them from pulling their firearms -- which keeps Yoongi and Hoseok from doing the same.  All of the men face off in silence for a moment, each side waiting to see if the other will do something to break the fragile peace.

Kang Donghyuk whines under his breath and Hoseok shoots a warning glare at him.  He drops his gaze to the ground and shuts his mouth.

“You say you don’t want trouble with me, Mun and yet --” Namjoon snarls, “-- you have this piece of shit working my sister. Explain.”

“You know how these rich boys are, Kim,” Mun chuckles.  “They develop a bad habit -- or in this idiot’s case, two -- and daddy’s money isn’t enough anymore.  They’re easy to buy.”

Donghyuk looks from Namjoon to Mun, panic in his wide eyes.

“They’re trying to kill me,” he rasps.

“So what?” Mun laughs.  He smiles wide to reveal a mouth like an abandoned graveyard, teeth broken and scattered.  “This guy thinks we’re friends,” he jeers, jerking a thumb in Donghyuk’s direction.  “He’s too stupid to figure out that he served a purpose and now he doesn’t anymore.  Simple as that.”  

Namjoon sucks in a breath with obvious irritation.

“I’m still waiting to hear what any of this shit has to do with my sister.”

“Ah, yes,” Mun says, stubbing out his cigarette and getting back to the task at hand. “Listen, I don’t have anything against your sister personally, okay? Lim Joowon is my son and I want him back.  He can’t spend the next 15 years behind bars. You understand that, right? Doing whatever it takes for your family?”

Namjoon utters a curse under his breath.

“I’ll give your sister some credit, though -- she’s tenacious.  I thought she’d give up after we took her digital files,” Mun admits.  “Instead she’s cost me a hell of a lot more money.  I’ve had to start cutting a lot more checks to ensure this shit goes away.”

“She’s not the type to roll over and play dead, Mun,” Namjoon growls through gritted teeth.  

“The pigheaded gene runs in the family, huh?” Mun grins. “Look, let me level with you Kim, man to man.  I don’t even need your sister at this point. I’ve paid enough people to fuck this case from the inside out.  But I won’t lie, she is my insurance.  If any of the higher-ups start asking questions about why this case fell apart -- who better to point the finger at than the sweet young prosecutor with the dirty family connections, hmm?”

Namjoon tenses, hand reaching for the gun at his side.  Yoongi stops him with a muttered warning.

“None of us give a fuck about what happens to your son, Mun,” Namjoon says. “What I have a problem with is you sending that piece of shit --” he points at the trembling Kang Donghyuk, “ -- into her fucking home. Invading her space.  You crossed a line.”

“You’re right,” Mun agrees lightly.  “It was rude. Uncalled for.  I’m gonna apologize for it right now.”

He pulls his pistol from his side and the sound of clinking metal bounces off the shipping containers as everyone pulls their guns.  Hoseok trains his pistol directly at the shaking Kang Donghyuk and silently prays for the chance to pull the trigger. Mun Kiwoo’s gun is pointed at Namjoon and Namjoon’s is pointed right back.

Then Mun’s face lights up with a bizarre smile. He swings the point of his pistol in the direction of Donghyuk and pulls the trigger twice.

Donghyuk sputters as he falls to the floor.

Hoseok and Yoongi exchange looks.  

Namjoon stares at Mun incredulously.

“What?” Mun’s nonchalance is comical.  “You wanted to do that too, right?  Besides, that guy owes everyone in the city money. I promise you, his own mother won’t even miss him.”

“Jesus,” Yoongi mutters under his breath. “This guy is fucking nuts.”

Mun puts his pistol away and his men follow suit.  Namjoon signals for Yoongi and Hoseok to do the same.  

“Consider that a goodwill gesture,” Mun says breezily.  “An official apology from me, to you.  And please pass along my consideration to your sister.  Please assure her that none of this is personal.  But I will make sure my son stays out of prison.  And like it or not, she’s going to play some kind of role in that.”

Namjoon stares off into the water.

“I can’t control my sister, Mun.  She makes her own choices,” he says after a moment.  “But let me be clear, this is the first and last polite discourse we’re going to have about this situation.  I don’t want you, your goons or any --” he glances at the bleeding pile of Kang Donghyuk on the floor, “-- paid help going near her.  Not in her office, not in her home. Nowhere. Are we clear?”

Mun Kiwoo lights another cigarette and smiles wide, the space in his teeth prominent against the gleaming ember hanging from his mouth.  

“Crystal.”

On the way back to the car, Hoseok hears the heavy splash of Kang Donghyuk’s body hitting the water down below.

He shuts his eyes against the rush of pleasure he feels as he climbs into the backseat.

************************

YOU

Something isn’t right.

You stare at the empty seat across the conference table -- the one where Hyejin normally sits -- and something twists in your gut.  She’s out sick today.  You can’t even remember the last time she took a sick day.

All morning, you’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s no big deal.  That you’re working yourself up for nothing.

But Donghyuk is out today, too.  

Vaguely, you register the sound of your boss’s voice at the front of the room. Any minute now, you’ll be asked to brief the team on the status of your case, but you can’t think straight.  You can’t focus on anything but the feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong.  

Your thoughts race back to last night, back to your brother taking his men away for business in the middle of the night.

Back to Hoseok.

You try not to think about what it felt like to have his warm body pressed against yours. The way he smelled like fresh laundry and spice. The way you unraveled the moment he touched you.  

Your phone pulses with an incoming text.

namjoon: i’ve asked jungkook to bring you to the office tonight after work [ 1:25 PM ]

namjoon: a lot to discuss [ 1:26 PM ]

Your brain grinds to a halt as you stare at the messages.

It’s like everything is wrong and everything is right, all at the same time.

“Miss. Kim?”

You look up to see your boss staring at you, one expectant eyebrow raised.  You take a deep breath, line up your papers and stand to take your place at the front of the room.

****************************

The sense of déjà vu that hits you as you make the long walk across your brother’s office is nearly overwhelming.  This is exactly how this entire mess began weeks ago -- with you summoned to see Namjoon after hours, with Yoongi and Hoseok flanking him on either side.

But there is one thing different about tonight.

When you briefly lock gazes with Hoseok as you make your way to Namjoon’s plush chair, there is a warmth behind his dark eyes you can see from a distance. It’s a complete contrast to the first time you ever saw him, when you thought you could freeze to death from the ice in his glare.

You look away before anyone can catch the flush working its way up your neck.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you brother begins evenly.  “I finally have some answers for you about what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m ready to hear them,” you exhale, taking a seat.  Your eyes drift over the papers strewn scattered across his desk.  

“We’ve learned that the reason the Ssijog want your case against Lim Joowon to fold is because Lim is Mun Kiwoo’s son.”

You raise a brow.

“That’s news to me.  I didn’t even know Mun Kiwoo had a son.”

“Neither did we,” Namjoon admits.  “Apparently this is his only son and the man he intends to pass control of the Ssijog down to.  So it makes sense that he’s so hell-bent on seeing this case fall apart.”

He picks one of the papers off his desk.

“This is the more problematic piece of the puzzle,” Namjoon says quietly.  Your chest tightens in response to the expression on his face. “Jimin and Taehyung tracked a Ssijog account making payouts.  Payouts to people in your office.”

He holds the piece of paper out to you.

“There are six names on that list.”

You take a deep breath before taking the sheet from his hands.  

Your eyes scan down the document, taking in the blows, one by one.  Two receptionists.  One paralegal.  

Lee Hyejin.  

Kang Donghyuk.  

Park Soo.

You say nothing as you stare at the list, taking in the names again.

Someone you called a friend.  Someone you’d allowed into your bed.  The boss you’d bent over backwards trying to impress.  You stare at the black-and-white evidence of betrayal in your hands, reading the words over and over -- expecting to feel sadness or rage or humiliation or something.  

Nothing comes.

“Give us a moment, would you please?”

Yoongi and Hoseok file out of the room quietly at Namjoon’s command.  The second the heavy door to the office clicks shut, he clears his throat.  “There is something else we need to discuss, Amsaja,” your brother continues quietly.  “Kang Donghyuk is dead.”

“Good.”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide at the quick, calm delivery of your response.

You stand to walk to his sideboard to pour a drink.  You have no idea what’s inside the decanter, only that whatever it is promises a burn you want to feel right now. You pour a glass and take a sip, leaning against the heavy wooden piece.

“Did you kill him?”

“No. The Ssijog beat us to it,” Namjoon admits.  “But Hoseok paid Donghyuk a personal visit at home to convey our -- displeasure -- at his involvement in this mess. He damned near choked that man to death hours before Mun Kiwoo put two bullets in him.”

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay.”

The words Hoseok spoke in your kitchen surface in your mind.  

They’d sent a bolt of pleasure through you at the time -- triggering a kind of primitive response you’d be embarrassed to admit out loud.

And somehow that response pales in comparison to what you’re feeling right now.

A normal woman wouldn’t find satisfaction in the idea of Donghyuk cowering in fear inside his apartment.  A normal woman wouldn’t feel warmth spread through her entire body at the mental image of Hoseok wrapping his hands around Donghyuk’s throat.  You slip a finger under the collar of your blouse and search for your scar -- closing your eyes at the familiar feel of the raised skin.  

You remind yourself that you are not a normal woman.

“Hoseok uncovered Kang’s involvement with the Ssijog even before we found the payouts.”  Your brother pauses, a wry twist to his mouth as he continues.  “He can be a very determined man when something is important to him.”

Namjoon holds your gaze for just a beat too long after delivering that statement.  You look away and walk to his office window.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now, Amsaja,” you brother says.  You can hear the sound of him pouring his own drink behind you.  “Your silence has me concerned.”

You’re thinking about every time Hyejin feigned concern for you and tried to get you to open up. The days Donghyuk insisted he take you to lunch or to dinner when you insisted you were too swamped.  The bullshit little speech Park Soo gave you the night of the charity dinner about keeping Seoul from falling into the hands of criminals.

You’re thinking about what a joke they all are -- dressing up and looking down their noses at the criminal element they claim to despise.  Wearing their fake piety like a badge of honor and paying for their fine things with dirty money.  

You’re thinking that you’d rather choose a hundred street thugs over any one of their kind.  At least your brother has the balls to wear his sins on his sleeve.  

Namjoon joins you at the window, glass in hand.  

“What I’m thinking, Jaegyueo,” you say calmly, “Is that a lot of things are starting to make sense for me.  I haven’t felt this clear in a very long time.  So, thank you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your brother’s mouth and you return it.

You clink your glasses together in a toast.

***********************

You are two whiskeys deep when you leave Namjoon’s office.  

Hoseok is waiting in a chair in the hallway.  He stands to his feet when you appear from behind the heavy wooden door.  

You suck in a breath as you take him in -- the sharp beauty of his face and the soft curve of his mouth and the way his suit hugs the lines of his lean body.  You realize, with more than a little embarrassment, that you are staring.

“I’ve got the car warming downstairs,” Hoseok says carefully.  “If you’re ready to go, that is.”

“Yes. Hoseok, I --” you swallow thickly,  “-- I never apologized for what I said to you.  I didn’t mean those things. I’m so sorry.”

Hoseok steps close and reaches one hand out to tuck your hair behind your ear.  You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch and inhaling his scent.

“You’ve had a hell of a night,” he murmurs.  “We can talk about that some other time.  Let’s get you home, yeah?”

You open your eyes to look up at him just as Yoongi rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks.

“Glad this isn’t awkward,” he mutters, before turning to walk back the same way he came.

**********************

The air in Hoseok’s car is thick with tension on the ride home.

You’ve stopped pretending to not stare, eyes fixed on Hoseok while his eyes stay glued to the road.  He guides the car through a sharp turn and you catch the way he winces as his hand grips the steering wheel.  

A throb of guilt hits you square in the chest.

“You’re hurt.”

“Nah,” Hoseok deflects quickly.  “Just a little sore.”

He won’t look at you.  Why won’t he look at you?

“Namjoon told me you nearly choked Donghyuk to death,” you say quietly, studying his face for any reaction. He slows the car to a stop at a red light and rubs his fingers across his mouth, stares out of his window.

“I wanted to kill him,” he admits.  He takes his aching hand off the steering wheel and flexes his fingers as if reliving the memory of that night. “I almost did.”

That embarrassing reaction flares inside of you again.  This time it slides down your back and pools low between your legs and you have to squeeze your thighs together in response.  You shiver as you remember the promises he made while pressing his body to yours.

“Tell me what you want. I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

You’ve never wanted anything as badly as you do Jung Hoseok right now.

*************************

You force yourself to wait for the elevator doors to shut.

The second they do, you crush your body and your mouth to Hoseok’s.  If you catch him off-guard, there’s no way to tell -- not with the way he immediately backs you into the elevator wall, slotting one knee between your thighs.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore,” he groans the words into the shell of your ear, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck.  “Just like no one gets to touch you anymore.  No one but me.”

The strangled sigh that escapes you is the closest thing Hoseok is going to get to a thank you right now.  You whimper in agreement, gasping when his fingers grip your ass to pull you flush against him.  The swollen outline of his cock brushes against your stomach and you shudder.

The elevator ride is too long and too short, all at the same time.  Hoseok backs you through the doors as soon as they open, fumbling in his pocket for the keys while you suck bruises into his throat.  By some miracle, he gets the door open and both of you through it in one piece.

“Fuck,” Hoseok swears as you wrap your arms around his neck, grinding against his insistent cock.  He has to drag you both into the bedroom as you press against him like a dead weight, teeth nipping at his bottom lip as you both stumble into the bedroom.  You drop out of his grasp when the bed hits the back of your knees.

Hoseok stands back, chest heaving with exertion.

“I need you to hear you say it,” he pants.  “Please.”

You sit up straight on the edge of the bed and unbutton your blouse, slipping it off without hesitation.  “No one gets to touch me,” you breathe, reaching to unclasp your bra.  You toss it away.

“No one but you.”  

Hoseok’s eyes darken to near black.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and slowly pulls off his holster and gun, placing both carefully on top of your dresser.  Then he turns back, body looming over yours.  He cups your cheek with one large hand, looking down at you with such heat that your breath hitches in your chest.

You lean into his touch, fingertips grazing the contour of his cock beneath his suit pants.  

“You promised to give me anything I want,” you whisper, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. He nods slowly, the rasp in his voice betraying the calm on his face.

“Anything.  Name it.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say, pulling the hem of his shirt out of his pants.  Your fingers work the buttons open, one by one.  “Let me.”

Hoseok exhales a heavy breath as you open his shirt and stroke your hands down his chest. You give yourself a moment to admire the lean strength of his body, fingers stroking over the metal tags that hang just above one dark, flat nipple.

His stomach tightens and his cock twitches in his pants when you tilt forward to press a soft kiss to the golden skin just above his belt.  You work it open with unsteady hands and his pants follow just a moment later.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, nuzzling the outline of his length with your cheek.  You push his boxers down his slim hips just enough to expose the head of his cock.  “I don’t want you to think about anything but this.”

Hoseok groans when you flick your tongue against him.  

His cock throbs under your fingertips through the fabric of his underwear when you dip down to tease the head with your mouth.  You lap at the salty moisture gathered at the swollen tip and his head drops back.

“Sweetheart, please --” he grits out, hands reaching for your hair.  He winds his fingers through the strands and jerks when you rake your teeth across the wet ridge under the head of his cock. “-- don’t tease me.”

Some other time you might play the delayed gratification game with him.  You might take hours to torture him and keep him dangling at the precipice of pleasure.  Tonight, though -- the only thing you want to do is make him come so hard he can’t see straight.

“I won’t,” you promise sweetly, pulling the rest of his thick length free from his boxers to wrap your warm fingers around him.  You flick your gaze up to appreciate the way his head is tipped back in pleasure, lips parted.

“Look at me,” you murmur, pumping him with languid strokes.

His eyes are glassy with arousal when he opens them to gaze down at you.  You make sure he’s watching as you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you draw your mouth across his length.  He gathers your hair in his hands so he can appreciate the unobstructed view of your private show.

“No one gets to touch you anymore,” you whisper.  You take him down as far as you can again, tongue dragging against the thick vein that runs the length of his cock.  You are panting when you pull off him, tongue running the seam of your lower lip as you catch your breath.

“No one but me.”

Hoseok’s dick jerks in your hand in response, hand tightening in your hair as you lick a long stripe up his shaft.  He chokes out a moan as you lick at the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, eyes fixed on his.

“No more,” he croaks.  

You pull your mouth away reluctantly, tongue swiping at the taste of him on your lips and the sight seems to set him off.  He grabs your face with both hands, groaning into your mouth as he claims it.

He pulls away, panting.

“Lie back,” he demands between breaths.  You comply without question.

Hoseok leans over you, arms braced on either side of your body as he drops his head down to take one nipple between his teeth.  Your hips jerk at the stimulation and you squirm underneath him, thighs slippery with your own excitement.  He laves at both nipples slowly, thoroughly, until they are aching and wet.  Then he trails a soft line of kisses back up to your ear.

“I want to taste what’s mine,” he whispers, and a pang of arousal hits you so hard you forget to breathe.  You lift your hips to help him pull your skirt away along with your soaked panties and he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of you. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation.

Hoseok nudges your legs apart with his hands, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs.  His dark eyes are half-hooded with pleasure by the time he drapes your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he groans when you are fully spread open for him.  He drops a kiss on your mound and your body jolts at the sensation, every nerve ending standing at attention.  He moves lower, long fingers tracing the outline of your swollen cunt and you suck in a breath.  

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, dipping one finger into your damp heat.  “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you choke out, hands gripping the sheets as his finger flexes inside of you.

“Only for you.”

Hoseok makes a sound of satisfaction deep in his chest before sealing his lips over your aching clit.  You shudder against his mouth when he pulls back to soothe you with the flat of his tongue.  “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined how you would taste,” Hoseok groans, licking deeply into your wetness.  “It doesn’t even come close.  Nothing comes close to this.”

“Hoseok --”  your hands come off of the sheets to grip into his hair, “-- Hoseok, please don’t stop.”

Your senses are so heightened that just the pressure of the heel of his hand against your cunt is making you crazy.  His finger crooks deep inside you, stroking against your swollen walls while his lips and teeth toy with your clit.  You whine at the stimulation, at the wet drag of his tongue that has you writhing beneath him.

“You’re close sweetheart, I can hear it,” Hoseok’s voice is ragged with arousal. “Let me hear you.  Come for me.”

You clutch his hair between your fingers, moaning brokenly as the heat between your legs simmers to a boil.

“Hoseok --”

“That’s it,” he praises you with dirty words spoken in the sweetest way. “Let me taste you. Let me hear you.”

Hoseok is prepared the moment you come apart.

He grasps your hips firmly in those large, warm hands of his -- tongue and lips persistent as the live wire inside you tightens and snaps. The force of your orgasm shakes your entire body and leaves you begging and breathless. Hoseok savors every drop of your release until your hips sink back into the mattress and you protest weakly against the threat of overstimulation.

The mattress dips under you as Hoseok joins you on the bed, lips swollen with use and mouth marked with your taste.  His head dips into the hollow of your neck, nipping gently at the skin, while his fingers skate over the soft skin of your stomach and thighs.  

You shiver in his hold, closing your eyes for a moment to savor the feeling of his body on yours.

“I want to watch you come like that every day,” Hoseok whispers into your ear.  “Only for me.”

“Only for you,” you agree in a whisper, finding your voice after what seems like ages.  

You slip one hand between you, fingers wrapping firmly around the rigid cock pressed against your stomach.  Hoseok groans when you tighten your hand around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, feeling a pulse between your legs that seems to beat in time with the throb of his cock in your palm, “Fuck me please, I’m losing my mind.”

His hoarse chuckle sends a shiver up your spine as he moves to cover you completely with his body.  He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance and you tilt your hips up into his.  

“Please,” you plead again, lifting your head to brush your lips against his.  “Now.”

He sinks his cock into you slowly, inch by inch, groaning at the tight fit of your cunt around him.  The stretch inside of you is nearly too much -- you whimper when he bottoms out and he drops his forehead to yours.

“You okay? Am I hurting you?”

His entire body feels like a rubber band ready to snap -- coiled energy waiting to be released.  But he holds back the instinct to move until you nod your agreement.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, nudging his hips to move with your own.  You stroke your hands down the slick skin of his back.  “I’m so full right now.”

Hoseok swears under his breath as he tentatively rocks his hips against yours, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside of you.  You wrap your legs around him as the discomfort subsides and the only sensation that’s left is the pleasant pressure of his cock against your walls.

Hoseok’s hips move harder as your whimpers melt into moans.

“Dammit,” he swears, head dropping low between his shoulder blades.  “So tight and wet for me.  So perfect for me.”

You look up to take in the sight of his perfect face slack with pleasure, mouth parted and face flushed with exertion.  His dog tags hang from his neck, swaying as his hips begin to piston in earnest.  You pull on them to force his mouth close to yours.

“Only for you,” you whisper, “No one else.”

Hoseok’s steady rhythm stutters when you whisper those words into his mouth and press your lips to his.  His hips jerk wildly as his release races up his shaft.  He laces his fingers into yours, fucking you deep into the mattress in those final seconds as he loses all control to chasing his end.

He comes with your name on his lips.

************************

Hoseok breathes deeply into your hair as you stroke your fingers across the lean lines of his chest, fingers tracing the metal outline of his dog tags.  You lie together like that for a while, skin to skin.

Your thoughts are loud in the quiet.  

You’re used to the bitter sting of betrayal by now.  

Long before Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk or Park Soo ever sold you out for a check, your own father betrayed you for the bottle.  You of all people know too well that most people aren’t to be trusted.

But then Hoseok’s fingers drag lightly across your back and they bring you back to the here and now -- back to the promise he made to you tonight.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore.”

And you decide to trust just one more time.

************************

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @jjeonjoon @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @ppersonna @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena @strawbewymiwk @stephleee @jalexa83 @livanthi @fantasybangtan @trviahope​ @mono-kookie@hauntedlilies @sugasaidbultaoreune @yeojaa @secret-alphabets @hodginss@parkjimin-persona​

[santigarcia]

we’ll meet again

a ww2 au santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader x frankie ‘catfish’ morales fic~

rating: m for smut; threesomes, some war violence

word count: 3.5k

summary: You’re in a relationship w/ Santi and Frankie and they both are drafted for the war; you anxiously await their return home.

a/n: ive been wanting to do a santi x reader x frankie fic for a while now, but i wanted to do something different w/ mine! just wasn’t sure how! until i got this ww2 idea~ so i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated

thank you @huliabitch​ for this aesthetic!!!!!

xx

We’ll Meet Again

Santiago Garcia whistles a tune while he checks the mail. He’s on his lunch break from work and he decided to come home to see you. The mail is downstairs in the lobby of your apartment building. He fishes his keys out of his pocket still whistling the tune.

Frankie Morales is right behind him; he had the same idea to come see you at lunch during his break.

“You wanna get mine out too?” Frankie asks, Santi nods not turning his head. He knows Frankie’s voice.

He knows a lot more about Frankie than the average person should. These two men are in a relationship with you. The three of you share an apartment.

You’re up there waiting for them to come home right now, and both men have a spring in their step. Until Santi pulls out two identical envelopes from the mailbox. He doesn’t have to open it to know what it is. He hands Frankie his letter. Santi stands still, while Frankie tears open the letter, his eyes scanning the document, all the color leaving his face.

“We can’t tell her,” Santi holds his hand up, he’s calm as he tries to process this.

“She sure as fuck is going to notice that we’re gone! How are we going to keep this a secret?”

“No man, I mean we don’t tell her we got drafted yeah? We tell her we volunteered.”

“How is that better? That we chose to leave her?”

“Fuck I don’t know,” Santi sighs and brushes his hand over his face.

The light clack of heels on the floor turns their heads, and they are greeted with your smiling face. Your hair perfectly curled and red lipstick swept across your lips. Normally their tongues would wag at the sight of you, but there’s too much fear and uncertainty running through their minds.

“Hi boys,” you greet them with a smile, unaware of what news they hold in their hands and is just waiting on the tips of their tongues.

“Hey honey,” Santi greets you with a kiss to your cheek. He’s better at acting than Frankie.

When you turn to Frankie, you see the worried look on his brow, and the letter in his hand.

“What’s that?” you ask him, your voice catching in your throat. You know what it is, but you don’t want it to be true.

“Baby,” Santi brings the attention back to him. He takes a deep breath about to tell you when Frankie cuts him off.

“We volunteered.”

Santi gives him a look of surprise that he said it, but you don’t see it. You feel sick to your stomach.

“Both of you?” you reach for Santi to steady yourself; you feel dizzy. Frankie reaches for you to keep you upright. “When? When do you leave?”

“Next week.”

Tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You aren’t angry, you’re scared. The loves of your life are leaving for war. There’s a high chance they won’t come home.

You try to soak up as much of them as you can in the next week, but there’s an ever-present darkness over your lives. The next few days fly by, even amidst the fear and anxiety that fills your little apartment. Before you know it, you’re at the station saying goodbye to your boys.

Soldiers in uniform are everywhere, and many others like you are saying goodbye to their sweethearts, their sons, or their fathers. There’s a bitter feeling in the air, tears are on many faces.

“At least the last image I see of you boys is how handsome you both look in your uniforms,” you sniffle, trying to make light of this situation. You smooth your hand over Santi’s broad shoulders and straighten Frankie’s crooked tie.

The train whistle blows it’s the last call to board. They have to go.

“Santi,” you reach for him. His gorgeous eyes are sad, but his eyebrows lift when you call his name. Your hand rests on his chest over his heart. “Don’t be too reckless. Keep an eye on Frankie.” Your other hand cups his face, stubble already growing in from his shave this morning. You move your hand up to touch at his hair just above his ear, his uniform hat hiding his greying curls from you. “You’re so smart and brave, use that to your advantage. But stay out of trouble.” You kiss his cheek, then he kisses your forehead when he sees the tears in your eyes.

“Frankie,” you turn to him, your hand still on Santi’s chest. “Be brave. It’s ok to be scared. Don’t let Santi be stupid.” His lips quirk up in a smile, and you feel Santi’s chest when he chuckles. You touch Frankie’s face and kiss his cheek too. “Don’t shave off that mustache. Let your kindness shine through during this. You’re so much stronger than you know.” You let out a sob and he wraps you up tight in a hug. “I don’t want you to go,” you tell him.

Santi’s hand comes to rest on your back, and he gently pulls you from Frankie to hug you one last time.

When you look at their faces you smile through your tears seeing you left a lipstick stain on each of their cheeks. You reach in your purse for your handkerchief, but Santi grabs your wrist, “leave it.” He says with a soft wink.

They each give you one more kiss then they turn and board the train.

That first night is one of the worst. For so long you’ve had not one, but two men in your bed keeping you safe, keeping you company. Now this bed feels so empty and cold.

It isn’t easy for them either. It’s not until they sit down on the train that the gravity of the situation hits them both. It’s here where they meet with two brothers, Will and Benny. All these men here are in the same situation, leaving home behind to go to war.

Basic training is up first for the boys, and Frankie struggles. He throws up on the first day, Santi claps him on the back telling him it’ll be alright – and he doesn’t just mean his stomach.

Santi intends to keep his promise to look out for Frankie, he’s family.

The boys write to you as much as they can, even when they’re shipped out overseas. Their letters serve as a comfort for all three of you. For you it’s knowing they’re alive, for them it’s a chance to think about something else, something better – you.

Santi is formal in his letters, precise. His handwriting is neat. His words are comforting, romantic, and full of sexual things he’d like to do with you when he gets home. He tells you about what’s going on as much as he can and tells you funny stories about Frankie, he hopes will make you laugh. He tells you about how he and Frankie have nicknames now. How he’s Pope and Frankie is Catfish. He tells you that he looks at the photo you gave him often, wishing to hold you again.

You like to imagine what Santi looks like when he writes. Maybe he’s in a tank top, arms dirty from the mud. A cigarette hanging loose between his lips. It’s much better to think of the alternative, which in reality Santi is in the mud, but he’s cold. Writing to you from a dim flashlight, hearing the sounds of shells exploding in the distance.

Frankie writes the way he talks, it’s simple and sweet and direct. His handwriting is messy, and his letters bring you a different kind of comfort. He tells you that he’s got his eye on Santi. That he too looks at the picture you gave him. How much he misses your warmth, your laugh. How he wants to take you out dancing when he gets home. You can tell by the way he writes that he’s sad. But there’s a change in him too that brings you comfort; he’s finding his courage.

What he doesn’t tell you is the ridicule they’ve gotten for “fuckin’ the same broad.” When everyone was showing off photos of their girls, someone snatched your picture out of Frankie’s hand. In Frankie’s photo, you’re smiling bright – a smile just for him. In Santi’s photo, you’re blowing a kiss to him.

Frankie almost punched the guy for talking about how sweet your pussy must be for two men to want it. Santi had to bite his tongue as he pulled Frankie back.

When you write to the boys, you tell them what you’ve been up to. How holidays and birthdays are terrible without them home. How you are helping out with the cause in whatever way you can.

What you don’t tell them is the nightmares that plague your mind. Graphic depictions of their deaths. It’s hard enough to imagine one, but often times both of them die in your dreams.

The nightmares only seem to worsen when the letters become less and less frequent. You resort to other things to keep their memory alive while they’re gone.

The scent of Santi’s aftershave becomes a comfort. You hug Frankie’s pillow at night, so you don’t feel so lonely.

Your boys have no such comfort other than a small fading photograph and your letters sprayed with your perfume. Their lives are a living nightmare, and it continues to grow more hellish.

The worst of their nights at war is when boys reach a small German village, the enemy hiding in the homes of innocent villagers. It’s dark, all the lights in the town are out. The moon overhead, and the lights the soldiers have with them are the only way they can see.

Santi volunteers to take first watch.

During his walk of the perimeter, he peers around a corner and a grenade explodes. He wasn’t close enough for major shrapnel to hit him, but the force of the explosion sends his body hurling backwards. He slams into a brick wall like a ragdoll, his knees hit first. He falls to the ground hard, and it is chaos now around him, but he can barely hear it because his ears are ringing.

Frankie searches frantically for Santi, and his commanding officer Redfly, orders Frankie to stay at his position. But he doesn’t listen, he made a promise to you.

“Why don’t you just leave him eh Frankie?” he hears one of the other soldiers tease him. “The competition’s been wiped out!”

Frankie keeps looking, and finally in the early dawn he finds Santi in a heap in the mud and blood.

“The hell are you doing?” Santi groans when Frankie gets to him. Gunfire and explosions light up the morning sky around them. “Leave me man. My legs are shot.”

“I won’t leave you here,” Frankie shakes his head and leans down to pick up Santi.

“Fuck!” is all Santi can say as Frankie moves his body. “Wait, just wait. I can’t walk.”

“No shit,” Frankie almost laughs.

“I promised to keep you safe, now get out of here.”

“And I promised her I’d keep you from being stupid.”

“How’s that workin’ out for you?” Santi laughs and splutters up some blood.

Frankie leans down again and hurls Santi’s body over his shoulder. Fear and adrenaline are his only explanations for how he managed to do this.

The next thing Santi remembers is waking up in a medical tent. Both of his legs are bandaged and elevated, and he feels miserable. His ears still have a dull ringing in them. He has an awful headache, but at least his legs don’t hurt, and he can in fact feel his toes. He misses you. He wants you here. Fuck. He wants to hold your hand. For you to comb your fingers through his hair to help him calm down.

He takes in his surroundings. Men are in beds everywhere. Nurses are walking all about, checking on everyone. His best guess is he’s in the recovering area, but he can still hear muffled screams in a nearby tent of extreme trauma cases.

He feels sick to his stomach, images of war coming back to him. It’s then he sees Frankie is sitting next to him, his arm in a sling.

“What happened to you?” Santi rasps, his voice gone from not using it in a few days.

“I carried some idiot off the battlefield over my shoulder. Tore it to shit.”

“She’s not gonna be happy about this,” Santi laughs. He can only imagine your reaction, but he would love for you to fuss over him.

“We’re fuckin’ alive man. She’ll take us however we are.”

And Frankie’s exactly right. He stays with Santi until he heals. And soon after that – the war is over.

They get to come home.

You cry when you hear the news on the radio. So many lives lost, you mourn with those around you who won’t have their soldier coming home.

You’d gotten one letter from Frankie in the last few months, and one only one came you feared the worst. But in his letter, he details how Santi was hurt and doing well in recovery. You felt sick reading this letter, to be so far from those who you love when they are hurting is a pain you never experienced to this degree.

And you can’t even begin to imagine what they went through. It tugs at your heart.

The entire time they were gone, every time your phone rang – it filled you with dread. That this would be the phone call alerting you of one or both of their deaths. You never got that phone call.

But today, you’d get to hear their voices on the other end of your phone.

“Hello?” you answer, and you hear both of their voices pouring in through the phone. From what you can hear over their excited babble and your crying, they are in New York. They’re boarding a train and will be home to you tonight.

Santi’s holding the mouthpiece while he and Frankie talk into it. You wish you could see them.

“We love you, honey. We’ll be home before you know it!”

They don’t talk long because they have to board and the lines for the phones are packed full of people trying to get in contact with their families.

You hold your own phone mouthpiece to your chest after they hang up. You’re setting it on the hook to hang up when you hear a knock at your door.

Confused, you move towards it to answer.

When you open the door, there they stand. Frankie and Santi. Shoulder to shoulder in their uniforms. Their bags at their feet. Santi slowly takes off his hat when he sees you, Frankie’s chest tightens. Your hand flies to your mouth and tears fall from your eyes as you leap into their arms. Your arms wrap around their necks and you cry there in the hallway, not caring who can hear you.

They both lean in to press kisses to your cheeks. Then Santi goes for your neck while Frankie whispers affections of love in your ear. You kiss both of them on the lips, smearing your lipstick all over their faces.

Even when they set you down and you pull them into your apartment by their ties, you still have tears falling down your cheeks.

In the soft light of the apartment, you take a good look at them. It’s the first time you’ve seen their faces in four years.

They look older. There’s a look in their eyes that makes you sad, it’s hidden but you know it’s what they’ve seen that haunts them. An unspeakable weight they carry. Santi’s hair has more grey than black. Frankie still has the mustache, and he stands taller.

“I wish I had known you sneaky boys were going to be home so fast! I would have made your favorites!”

“Baby, you’re our favorite,” Santi winks as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, shrugging his bag onto the floor.

Frankie quietly walks over to the record player and puts on a slow song. He takes off his hat and smooths down his hair, only to put it back on again. He reaches for your hand and the two of you start to sway to the music.

Santi has a soft smile on his face. Just happy to see you again. Happy to be home. It’s strange to be there all together again. How are you supposed to go on now? Do you all just pick up where you left off? There’s so much that’s been seen, pain that’s been felt.

All that you know right now is how good it feels to lean your head on Frankie’s chest. Frankie guides you over to Santi, and you reach out to weave your fingers into his hair.

“You going to dance Santi?” you lean down to kiss him.

“In a minute, he deserves this one.”

You look up at Frankie as you continue to sway.

“What does he mean by that?” you ask.

“Did he not tell you?” Santi lights a cigarette and places it between his lips, pocketing the lighter. “He saved my life. Threw me over his shoulder when I couldn’t walk.”

He sugarcoats the story, it’s still to raw to talk about.

“Why didn’t you tell me in your letter?”

“I was just keeping a promise,” Frankie smiles and leans down to kiss you.

“I’ll dance with you baby, but back in that bedroom.”

“Then what are we waiting for hmm?” you reach for Santi and tug Frankie back towards your shared bedroom.

There’s heat in their eyes, and an ache you’ve all been needing to fulfill. You take your time to undress each one. You want to touch him just to make sure he’s real.

While you undress Santi, his hooded eyes are full of delight. He’s been waiting for this for four years. There’s a smirk playing on his lips as you fumble with buttons out of excitement. You slap his hand away when he tries to help, only coaxing a chuckle from his lips.

You strip him down until he’s naked, only thing on him are his dog togs dangling around his neck. He goes to lay down on the bed while you work on Frankie.

His eyes are you on, but there’s a different kind of heat in his eyes. He shudders when your hand touches the skin on his chest. He groans into your lips when you pull him in for a kiss.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Frankie rasps. You do as he tells you and you lay next to Santi.

Parting your legs, Frankie dives in to mouth at your heat, his mustache tickling your sensitive flesh. Santi takes this opportunity to angle himself so he can mouth at your breasts and neck and your lips. His hand on your forehead groaning into your lips and on your chest.

Frankie moves his tongue over your lazily, even after you’ve reached your high, he still works his tongue over you, enjoying the taste he’s been starved of.

When he’s through, Santi rolls back over and you crawl into his lap. You’re slick and ready for him, so you sink down on him. You both shudder to feel this, the warmth you’ve both been missing. Frankie stands near you, and you reach for him – grasping his hard length in your hand you stroke him lazily while Santi thrusts up in you. Frankie slides his hand down to rub at your sex.

Feeling both of them after going without for so long has you coming hard on Santi. You shake and Santi steadies you with his hands on your hips.

Your hand is still on Frankie, and he lets go before he meant to. He wanted to be inside you, but feeling you was too much for him and he’s coming all over your side.

A couple more thrusts from Santi and he’s tossing his head back coming hard in you. You lean forward to kiss his chin and capture his groan. Then you sit back up and lean up to kiss Frankie’s lips, his hand coming to cradle your jaw.

You clench once around Santi while he softens up, and he groans again. You giggle to tease him so, and he whispers, “that’s my girl.”

You spend the rest of the night like that. Naked and laying in between your two lovers. You kiss them as deeply as you can. Listening to them tell stories, and they listen to yours. Catching up on the four years missed, it feels like a lifetime ago.

It’s strange to feel whole now that they are home, but there’s something missing too. They are not the same men as before, but you’re not the same woman. The one thing that hasn’t changed after all this time – through war and sorrow is your love for each other.

 xx

tagging: @agentpike​, @bisexual-space-slut​, @blancatobarxoxo​, @cosmicmando​, @damndamer0n​, @darksideofclarke​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @ghosttofcalum​, @goldhoran​, @himbopoes​, @huliabitch​, @ironman-iam​, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​, @itspdameronthings, @ivars-heathen, @javihoney​, @knittingqueen13​, @limenlimon​, @literatureandqueen​, @maciiiofficial​, @magicsuperheroes​, @mandoplease​, @marvel-dameron​, @melanietrancy​, @mitchi-c​, @mylifeliterally​, @pajamasecrets​, @pascalplease​, @pascalz, @perropascal​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @poesflygirl​, @poeticandors​, @punkpascal​, @rewritingstars​, @savagethewhale​, @saved-fanfiction​, @sgtbookybarnes​, @shadow-assassin-blix​, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce​, @stardust-galaxies​, @the-bird-suit​, @thehippiequilter​, @thepjofanqueen​, @this-cat-is-dea​, @tintinwrites​, @triggerhappyflygirl​, @waatermelon-sugaar​, @wakalas​, @xremember-me-notx​, @xxidontwikeitxx​

[spiltscribbles]

You're doing prompts! Yesss you have no idea how happy that makes me cause I love you're writing so so so much its so amazing soo yayyyyyy 🥳🥳 can I request prompt 32? Things you said I wouldn't understand. Maybe some wolfstar? I'm just a slut for your fics so I would probably die if you wrote this. Even if you don't that's fine I never wanna pressure you soo yeah love you 💕💕

~Notes: Gorgeous, this message is literally so fucking kind and I am absolutely SOBBING!!!! You are such a fucking gorgeous soul! And this means the galaxy! And I’m sorry! This screams angst, but I had a really really fucking awful day, so I just wanted to escape with some fluff :( But if you want me to redo I promise I will! Or you can send me another prompt and I’ll write angst! I adore you!!!

.-

A Reblog Is Worth A Thousand Stars  »  Send Me A Prompt  » Things You Said That I Couldn’t Understand

.-

Sirius realizes on an ordinary Tuesday morning as he spills the chocolate chips into the batter of the first batch of flapjacks, that he and his husband of over a decade haven’t had a date night for three months.

Three! Ruddy! Months!

THat’s completely not on! especially considering that now that the twins have entered their terrible twos they’ve barely had any energy at all  to go beyond furtive hand jobs and messy kisses in almost just as long. Sirius misses his bloody husband damn it!

“Daddy?” Angelica asks with owlish eyes  from where she and her younger brother, Teddy, are standing on either side of him with their expectant  plates in hand. “You look peaky.”

“Like you’re gonna puke,” Teddy tacks on helpfully, his ordinarily tawny curls  turning a putrid shade of  green just to emphasize his point. And Sirius silently reminds himself to tell Tonks off for teaching his kid such rude gestures once she gets back from her honeymoon with that Muggle bird of hers.

“Oi, you guys are going to make your old man feel like he’s the Hogwarts squid if you keep on.” Sirius tells them with a soft tug on Angelica’s ponytail and a cluck of a tongue directed towards his son.

“You’re father’s probably still just getting use to the time difference after getting back from the states.”

Sirius straightens up— pulse spiking in that way it always has around Remus ever since they had first begun to go out as fifth years— and spots him padding into the kitchen, beautifully sleep rumpled and cradling a babbling Maeve in one arm, while her twin, Matthew, toddles along side them with a meaty thumb in his mouth. Though he immediately begins sprinting towards Sirius once realizing that he’s finally home from teaching those Americans the newly enhanced defense tactics that the British Aurors have been utilizing to successful degrees.

“THere’s my Matty,” he crows, lifting him up in the air and blowing a raspberry into his belly while the toddler squawks with glee.

“Daddy home! Daddy! Daddy!”

“And he brings with him enough noise to rival the frog choir,” Remus notes absently.

Sirius waggles his tongue over at him, heart stuttering when he watches the morning sun spilling through the wide partition and unspooling golden in Remus’s hair. “You need it, gorgeous, considering you couldn’t wake up to your own ruddy alarm.”

Remus smiles in that abashed way that’s always been more devious than most give him credit for, “It’s the seventh year Ravenclaws, I think they will actually end up giving me an aneurism with how much extra they write in the essays.”

“Alas, I’m too pretty to be a widow,” Sirius sighs, tossing Matthew up in the air once more and cradling him into  his arm before walking over to Remus and dipping down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

“You could’ve woken me up you know,” Remus mumbles, shifting from foot to foot while sliding Maeve into her high chair. “The moon’s not til tomorrow night.”

Sirius ducks his head, scratching the back of it with appropriate diffidence. “I just didn’t want to disturb you, love.”

Remus doesn’t catch his eye as he begins to walk over to the counter and brings the other portions of the meal to the table, lips pinched and shoulders stiff. “I’m not a total invalid, Sirius. I could welcome my husband home after a week apart.”

“What’s that mean, Tad?” Teddy asks, oblivious to the undercurrent of hurt in his father’s tone and  energetic as always while scrambling into his own seat around the breakfast nook, wide eyes glowing with that easy mirth that Sirius is thankful every day his children can feel without any lingering ghosts. “A, erm— In—valvid."

“It means your Tad’s a bit brassed off at me, Ted.” Sirius answers for him, affecting a light hearted cadence. "And that I better get round to finishing up breakfast or else he’ll give me that stiff upper lip of his.”

Remus pins him with a glare from over his shoulder while Sirius sets Matthew into his own seat besides his sister, but his features are softened and Sirius knows that it means he’s close to being forgiven.

“Daddy can I have blueberries in mine,” Angelica asks as he returns to the oven.

“Course, jellybean,” Sirius answers, adopting the pet name that Hope had called her granddaughter ever since they had brought her back from the hospital eight years ago. Sirius loved it even more once finding out that it was actually a reference to some sort of Muggle treat that Remus use to eat by the handfuls as a lad.

“OmyChocomydadzee,” Ted yells towards them with a wedge of cheese in his mouth before sticking his fork into the plate of sliced fruit so to waggle it in front of a giggling Maeve.

“Sorry, son, I don’t understand trollish. Or is that some sort of highly advanced Metamorphmagus language that your Aunty Dora has been teaching you on the sly that we lowly, ordinary wizards couldn’t possibly understand?”

Teddy rolls his bright eyes with a huff, swallowing down pointedly before speaking again. “Only chocolate in mine, just like Tad!”

“Manners, Ted, remember please and thank yous.” Remus says, long suffering as he eases down into his own seat and sips from the mug of coffee that Sirius had already prepared for him. “Though yes, I’d like mine to be chocolate too, Sirius, if you’re taking orders.”

Sirius grins indulgently at them before peering down to his eldest. “Angie darling, what shall we do with their teeth once they fall out from all that sugar?”

Angelica laughs glowingly, and Sirius brushes back her chestnut bangs with a reverent hand.”The snow warlock outdoors could use it since he’s only got a carrot nose after Matty ate the chocolate frogs we were s’pose to  use for his smile.”

“Brilliant!”

.-

After they’ve all eaten, Teddy and Angelica race outside to await the Potters amidst shouts of “Shut your trap,” from a peeved off Teddy every time Angelica taunts him over his crush on Effie, and the twins dig into their toy chest in the living room while Sirius and Remus spell away the mess that always ensues after a meal with the Lupin-Blacks.

“Andromeda wants us to bring the Christmas pudding this year,” Remus idly tells Sirius while he enchants the dishes to begin washing themselves with a graceful flick of his wand. Remus ordinarily prefers cleaning them by hand, so Sirius has an inkling that the impending full moon has already  begun aching in his bones. Merlin’s saggy bollocks does he wish this new, experimental potion would just escape the bureaucracy of the Ministry so that the man who is his other half could at least have a small relief.

“Is that along with the wine and fresh cranberry sauce she’s asked for?” Sirius says, saddling up behind Remus, bending slightly so to nuzzle his nose along the hollow of his long neck.

“Mmm, she thought you might say that, and wanted to kindly remind you that she carried a set of twins for us when she was forty even though we promised that Ted would be the last sprog.”

“Pff, as if I’d let potter outdo us.”

“We definitely didn’t let that happen,” Remus snorts. “The twins and Pip will surely be the next generation Marauders, God save Minerva.”

“Exactly!” Sirius sneers, locking his arms around Remus’s torso. “Besides ’s not like it’s our fault Meda’s bloody eggs decided on a two for one deal.”

Remus stifles a laugh, leaning back into the embrace and setting his hand over Sirius’s where he’s begun thumbing small circles against his abdomen. “Yes, well if you’d like to have that argument with her?”

“Oh, she’s full of it. I know that the twins are her favorites, spoils them rotten I tell you Moons.”

“Well it’s hard not to with such cute faces,” Remus says, turning his head slightly so to peer over at the pair of them through the doorway. Maeve is munching on the leg of her barbie and Matthew is clashing together pieces of two completely contradictory puzzles. Sirius swears that his chest might implode with the love he feels for his chaotic, little family.

“Course they’re cute, Moons,” he says loftily instead of the incredibly sappy emotions that are flooding his insides. “They’re are kids, cute is in the genes.”

“Cocky bastard,” Remus snorts before turning around in his arms and kissing him full on the mouth. And yes, the sight of Remus curled around the latest essay he’s meant to be marking up with the baby monitor for the twins’s room clutched in his left fist, was an absolute heavenly sight, but Sirius thinks this more hands on approach is a much more appropriate welcome after dealing with an ocean between them and six nights apart.

“Mmm, does this mean I’m not in the dog house anymore?” Sirius asks hopefully, trailing a path of kisses along Remus’s jawline and stopping at the hinge where it meets his neck so to suck only slightly, reveling in the beautifully familiar taste of his husband.

“You were never in the dog house you daft mutt,” Remus reproves in a voice that could’ve been caustic if it weren’t for his words going breathy half way through and his hands clutching tightly onto Sirius’s shoulders. “’S just— Just… Nothing.”

Sirius feels his stomach twist, pulling off of him with a scowl set on his face, and refusing for Remus to just brush this aside, the way he’s always want to do instead of talking about anything that actually might be hurting him. Like he’s afraid that his sodding feelings are somehow a burden, the self-possessed bastard.

“Tell me,” he intones, brooking no arguments while he gently takes Remus’s face in hand so he can’t look away.

His gorgeous features twist up, indignant and mulish, but they relax almost just as quickly, a defense tactic that’s melt away almost completely after so long of being intwined with one another in the most intimate of ways.

“Sirius, there was a time that you could hardly keep your hands off of me after being away for less than half as long,” Remus tells him, voice wavering only slightly. “And I understand if it’s getting tiring having to parent around the moon’s schedule—“

“What the bloody fuck are you talking about,” Sirius really meant to listen to him all the way through, he did! But he can’t help just how furious he got at the sound of that absolutely ridiculous conclusion Remus has somehow conjured up in his impossible mind. Positively hates how this is still such a point of sensitivity Remus has when it regards to their relationship.

“Sirius—“

“Don’t be a completely idiotic arse, Lupin!” Sirius very nearly shouts, absolutely broiling. “You are the love of my life, and I wouldn’t change a single sodding thing about us! And I swear to Merlin or Morgana or whoever the fuck else, that if you begin speaking such rubbish again, I’ll have to lock you up in our bedroom, and show you just how intensely I mean that.”

Remus’s face has gone flushed throughout Sirius’s diatribe, and his hazel eyes twinkle with that adoring way of his that always makes Sirius’s heart lodge somewhere in his diaphragm. “Lupin-Black.”

“Pardon?”

“You called me Lupin, it’s Lupin-Black now, has been for quite a while.”

Sirius chuckles lowly, feeling his righteous anger  deflate as  he crowds Remus against the kitchen island and presses their foreheads together. “You done being a senseless sod then?”

Remus locks his hands around Sirius’s neck, kisses his cupids bow with a tender earnestness. “You still could’ve woken me up.”

“I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t be exhausted for tomorrow, love.” Sirius reiterates, kissing him with feeling before pulling apart once more. “Though if I’m being totally honest,  I would’ve liked it if you could’ve wanked me off in hello.”

“That’s all you would’ve wanted?” Remus asks smugly, the tip of his index finger tracing idl patterns  against Sirius’s neck.

“Mmm, don’t tease me, Moony.” Sirius tells him before sharing another snog. “I was just thinking earlier on that it’s been three ruddy months since I’ve had you to myself for the entire night.””

Remus’s smile brightens, “Oh yeah? You’ve missed that have you?” He bucks forwards, and Sirius can feel him pressed completely against his front.

“I think I might go mad very, very soon, Mssr Moony if we don’t correct this most awful of grievances.”

Remus laughs fondly, kissing the tip of his nose with a smile on his face. “Well I reckon that the twins are old enough to sleep through the night, and Grandma Lupin is always asking after them.”

Sirius brightens ten fold, “Really?”

“I’m sure the kids won’t mind spending an extended weekend on the Welsh coast.” Remus nods.

“Right, good. Yes! Let’s use that tellamabob thing.”

“But the kitchen’s still a mess.”

“Remus, please have mercy on me,” Sirius begs with his best pleading look until his husband finally relents in that worldweary way of his, even if it’s him who snatches Sirius’s wrist and drags him to that muggle contraption, an excited jittering to his grasp all the while.

Sirius is irrecoverably in love with such a bellend.

~*~

My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[amintyworld]

Candles - Dream SMP Star Wars AU

A/N: Welcome to - Another piece that’s wayyy too long to submit. I spent two days straight writing this between writing the next chapter of Beginnings. I sent this as an ask but then I think Tumblr ate it so anyway here’s a fic based on the concept. This is from @dreamsmp-au-ideas‘s Star Wars AU. I’m a sucker for father/son Wilbur and Fundy, okay? Anyway, hope you enjoy! - Minty

TW: Major Character Death, drinking(?), kidnapping, fighting, cursing. (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

Summary: Wilbur still has hope of finding his missing son, and has a special way of remembering him. Fundy gets a renewed sense of hope for finding his own parents and grows closer with Wilbur.

-----------------------------------------

“Sir, you need to let us in.”

“The fuck I will!” Wilbur shouted angrily from the other side of the locked door. “We don’t want any part of- We’re not with the Rebellion, we’ve done nothing to you or the Empire. Leave us alone.”

“Sir, you need to open the door.”

“I know you’re taking kids, and I’m not letting you take him. You’ll have to get through me first, and I don’t go down so fucking easily.”

“Sir, please calm down and open the door.”

The house was humid and dim from the hot day, the windows shut and every entrance locked. The only way in was through the front door, which Wilbur trained his blaster at, ready to shoot whoever was stupid enough to enter. Sally sat behind him, her blaster on the ground as she held the small baby in her arms, trying her best to keep him quiet. Wilbur could hear screaming children and sobs from across the silent town, as the stormtroopers marched down the road, children grabbing back for their parents as the parents desperately rushed after their children only to be knocked down with the blunt of the blasters, a few bleeding out, writhing on the ground in agony with their skulls cracked open, a few dead bodies scattering the ground. He noticed a hysterical woman shaking the body of her husband, a bleeding wound in his chest, and a sizable dent in his head that looked like a bruised watermelon. He wasn’t moving. A sizable knot formed in Wilbur’s throat at the sight.

This was sick. 

Wilbur’s body shook with anger and adrenaline as he heard the click of the stormtrooper’s gun. A tense moment of silence passed before the door flew open so quickly that it almost fell off its hinges as three stormtroopers rushed in. Wilbur gunned down the first in the chest, Sally managed to blow the second one’s head clean off from her position on the floor, leading the third scrambling for cover, not realizing exactly who he was messing with. “B-backup, I repeat we need backup in Section 10 House 23, two soldiers down, I repeat, two soldiers down!” Looking over to Sally with a nod, they moved deeper into the house for cover as they heard more stormtroopers approaching quickly, flooding into the house. “Shit, they’re Mandalorians!” A commander shouted from outside the house. “Surround the house, send a widespread barrage!”

From the sounds of it and the blasts whizzing by, there were at least twenty stormtroopers around the house, maybe thirty - it was hard to get an accurate count from where they were. Sally cupped his cheek as she gave him a reassuring smile. “You take the left, I’ll take the right?”

“As always.” Wilbur’s face brightened as the two shared a soft kiss. The small baby made grabby hands toward Wilbur as Sally gently put the child in his arms.

“Hm, looks like someone wants his Dad.” Wilbur loved how much Sally was always so confident, so relaxed when it came to times like this. At least, more relaxed than he was. She moved out of cover to begin to shoot back, and Wilbur kissed Fundy’s forehead. 

“You’ve gotta be quiet as a mouse, alright? Stay right there for now and stay quiet, Dad’s gonna be right back.” Gently as he could, he placed the baby in a small steel cabinet to keep him safe from any stray fire. Fundy looked up at Wilbur with wide curious eyes, a hand in his mouth. Wilbur’s heart melted at the sight as he securely closed the cabinet, grabbing his second blaster and moving toward the window to aim. 

------------------------------------------------

“Oh, uh… I didn’t mean to interrupt anything-” Fundy asked awkwardly from the doorway as Wilbur kneeled in front of a table, a single candle sat on it. The glowing flame was the only thing otherwise lighting up the dark room. Wilbur moved around quickly, slightly startled when he saw Fundy, and rushed to put his helmet back on. Though Wilbur couldn’t see Fundy’s face through his own helmet, he could see how the kid awkwardly shifted in the doorway, looking away quickly in embarrassment. “Wait, I’m not supposed to-! I’m so so sorry-!”

“No, no. It’s fine, Fundy.” Wilbur breathed, not exactly expecting any company. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, uhm… well Eret wanted to go over the plans with you for the attack, and…”

Wilbur sucked in a breath as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Tell him I’ll look it all over with him tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow…?”

Fuck, they didn’t know. He was so used to being left alone today that he forgot he wasn’t living on the ship anymore. They didn’t know. Wilbur mentally kicked himself. “Right. Uh… why is this so hard to explain…”

“Is this another Mandalorian thing?” 

“Well, uh… not- not exactly.” Wilbur managed. “Kind of. It’s a long story.”

Fundy moved to sit down a bit behind Wilbur on the floor, smiling behind his helmet. “I’m all ears.” 

“Heh.” Wilbur smiled behind his mask. “Well, you know how I lost my son to the Empire when he was a baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, in Mandalorian culture, we keep the memories alive of those who aren’t with us anymore, but we don’t really have any way to keep the memory alive for something like that. I know that he’s alive and out there somewhere, so any of the normal ceremonies just don’t feel right. I needed to do something to keep his memory alive in me, so I won’t forget him, and I can find him again.” Wilbur said, turning to gently take the candle in his hands, careful of the wax. “So, I light a candle on his birthday every year.”

“Every year?”

“Of course.”

Fundy’s eyebrows furrowed. “How are you so sure he’s still alive?” His eyes flicked down toward the ground in thought. “So much could have happened, I mean, it’s been so long...the Empire’s not exactly merciful.”

Wilbur slowly took Fundy’s hand in his, placing the candle down next to them. “I dunno, it’s like… there’s some kind of feeling in the air, like a connection. No matter how far away he is, I just have this feeling that I can’t ignore when it comes to him. As long as it’s there, I know he’s alive - out there, somewhere, and I’m gonna find him.”

Fundy stared up at him in awe, not finding any words. After this long, after everything that’s happened, Wilbur still had hope. He lit candles and sat and loved and remembered. Despite odds, despite logic, all because of a hunch. It was more than admirable, and Fundy moved to pick up the candle, watching the flame flicker. Something about all of this felt right. “Could I… maybe… light candles too? For my parents.”

Wilbur placed a comforting hand on Fundy’s shoulder and Fundy looked up to see Wilbur’s helmet framed and lit from the flame. “Of course.”

--------------------------------------------

“Drop your weapons.”

They were surrounded, several stormtroopers pointed their blasters at them. Even if they shot two of them down now they’d be dead within seconds. Sally looked over to him, her confident smile gone and replaced with worry. Wilbur swallowed the knot in his throat as he slowly raised his hands in surrender, dropping his blaster to the floor.

“I said drop ‘em, missy.” A stormtrooper growled at Sally, who reluctantly tossed her blaster to the ground and slowly raised her hands. The Commander looked around the small house for a moment before angrily pressing his blaster to Wilbur’s forehead. “Where’s the kid?!”

Wilbur took a shaky breath as he kept his calm. Quiet as a mouse, Fundy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Within seconds, Wilbur was hit across his face with the blunt of the blaster as the Commander kicked in him the stomach, leaving Wilbur sputtering for breath. “Does that jog your memory?!”

“Babies go missing, sir. The galaxy’s an imperfect place.” Wilbur huffed from his place on the ground, gaining confidence at the Commander’s growing frustration. More pain suddenly as the Commander’s boot collided with his face, each kick making his vision more blurry as blood dripped to the floor. He struggled to breathe in as he heard Sally yell, pure emotion in her outburst.

“Leave him alone, fuckface!” Tears welled up in her eyes as she began to stand, ready to charge at him and tear him to shreds. Her arms were quickly pulled behind her back, and she struggled against their grip. Wilbur coughed a bit of blood, trying to stand, as the Commander slowly walked over toward Sally. He tilted her head up to face his.

“Such a rebellious spirit...stupid, reckless, pointless rebellion. You do know how the Empire treats rebellion, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck you.” Quickly, Sally was thrown against the wall, pictures and furniture fell to the floor with a loud crash. Scratches and blood littered Sally’s skin as she struggled to move or even speak as the room spun like a top. “Ugh…”

“It’s time you learned to hold your tongue.” The Commander spat as he aimed his blaster at Sally.

“NO!” Wilbur leaped, helplessly, across the room only to be punched down once more. “Leave her alone, I told you the baby’s not even here-!”

Wilbur’s heart dropped as a baby’s cry rang throughout the room. The Commander stared down at him coldly. “Not even here, huh?” 

Wilbur’s eyes grew wide. “I-” Another strike across Wilbur’s face and he went down, shaking as he tried to crawl and stop the Commander who was walking toward the cabinet swiftly. No, no no no Fundy-

Suddenly, Sally gripped the Commander’s blaster as tears streamed down her face, fighting for control. The Commander pushed her up against the wall with his blaster with ease, shoving her to the floor. The sound of a shot rang through the air as blood poured down from Sally’s head. Her body dropped to the floor in a heap. 

No.

Tears welled up in Wilbur’s eyes as he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her lifeless body. Nothing about this seemed right, nothing seemed real. She was just there, she was just alive and moving and talking, and the next moment she’s just… gone. Wilbur screamed as he rushed over to Sally’s body, tears streaming down his face as he shook her. Words tumbled out of his mouth like a waterfall, so fast he had no idea what he was even saying. His heart felt like it shattered as he held her cold hand in his, a pool of blood beginning to form that stained his clothes, but he didn’t even care. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as blood dripped down from her forehead across her limp body. Wilbur’s shaking hands ran through her hair for the last time.

Fundy’s cries quickly pulled his attention away from Sally toward the Commander, who looked down at the child making grabby hands toward Wilbur, hysterical. “Aw, what a cute kid.” Wilbur stumbled to his feet, pain coursing through his body. Blood seeped down his skin, and his head throbbed uncomfortably. He raised his fists in a sort of fighting stance. 

“Get the fuck away from him.”

Another shot rang out as he rang down and saw crimson blood spill down to the floor from his chest. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He fell to the floor, crimson spilling onto the floor as he fought to stay awake. He curled into himself, all he could feel was pain, pain, pain…

Tears blurred his vision as his body shook. The stormtroopers and the Commander looked down at him with almost pity. You’re weak. Weak weak weak weak...

He could practically hear the smile in the Commander’s voice. “The Empire thanks you for your sacrifice.”

------------------------------------------------

Fundy’s eyes lit up in wonder as Wilbur handed him the matches, and moved to go grab something. The two candles are old - one shorter than the other, each with varying fruity smells compared to Wilbur’s vanilla one. He leaned over, lighting up the tall yellow candle then the smaller pink one.  He turned, blowing out the match then turning to stare at the flames. Warmth spread in his chest as he whispered to himself, head bowed. “I’ll find you, Mom and Dad. I promise.”

“Guess what I found!” Wilbur smiled as he brought over a large corked bottle and two steel cups.

“What’s that?”

“Phil found Tihaar, I haven’t seen this stuff in years!” Wilbur smiled, and Fundy looked toward him confused. “It’s a Mandalorian drink, nothing too heavy, I promise.” Wilbur laughed a bit as he poured out the cups. “You can’t find any of the good stuff anymore anyway.”

Fundy took the cup and sniffed it curiously. “It smells like syrup.”

“Tastes a bit like it too. Much more sweet than alcoholic.” Wilbur said, raising his cup. “Now then - a toast.” Fundy raised his cup as well with a smile. “To all those we’ve lost along the way. We keep you in our thoughts always, and may we reunite again.”

“We will find each other again,” Fundy added, looking to the sky, more hopeful than he’s felt in months.

Wilbur looked over toward him, nodding in agreement. “We will find them again.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

🔥 = smut   🌈 = readers’ favorite   🌷 = author’s favorite

Find my other masterlists HERE !

No gifts — First Christmas living together you and Shawn agree on not gifting each other, but he has a huge surprise for you.

Lonely Christmas — It’s your first Christmas dating Shawn, but he couldn’t make it for the first day. To cheer you up he calls you in the evening.

Late — Shawn couldn’t make it in time for New Year’s Eve, but you are surprised to see him pull up on your driveway just seconds after midnight.

Wearing nothing 🌈 — You feel like nothing looks good on you after you’ve put on some weight, but Shawn assures you that he is crazy for your curves.

I only need you 🔥🌈 — A heated smut that starts off with an angst filled fight.

Best friends — You’ve been best friends for ages and you realize you feel something more. You cook together like in the old days and some confessions are made at the end of the evening.

Clubbing — You feel uncomfortable in the club with your friends. When a drunk asshole makes a move on you Shawn comes to your rescue.

I miss you — Video chatting with Shawn while he is away, just being cuties online.

Morning — Waking up next to Shawn, getting a little too touchy which makes it harder to leave the bed and start the day.

Dimples — You’re insecure about your dimples so you make up your mind not to smile that much, but Shawn tries hard to see you smile again.

Aging 🌷 — It’s your birthday and it’s making you feel anxious that you are one more year older. In addition, you are older than Shawn and it also bothers you, but he is quick to make you feel better.

Just you — You visit him on tour, but you get jealous of all the time he spends with Alessia. You start fighting about it, but after you go through a not too serious car accident it makes you realize how imprtant you are to each other.

Home 🌷🌈 — During a chill day off at his parent’s place Shawn realizes that home is not a place for him anymore, you are his home. Proposal involved.

Family — You’ve kept it from Shawn that you can’t have kids. Talking about having a family you break down and confess to him thinking he will leave you. His reaction is not what you expected.

Dance moves — After a long day Shawn gets home just to see you busting your best dance moves around the kitchen, putting up your best performance and he can’t help but admire you.

MET 🌈 — Your debut as a couple happens to be at the MET Gala and it’s stressing you out, but Shawn knows just what to say to make you feel better.

I promise — Shawn’s lifestyle is taking a toll on your relationship. After a fight he shows up at your place because it bothered him how your conversation ended on the phone.

Prom 🔥 — Shawn surprises you at prom after making you think he can’t make it. You are so happy to be together again that you can’t hold yourselves back and end up having a quickie in the bathroom.

Tired — Shawn has had a lot on his plate lately so you go to check in on him. You take a shower together and you experience the intimacy of washing each other’s hair.

Chemistry — You do a shoot for CK together, but you get nervous right before it’s time to shine. As always, Shawn knows just exactly how to make you feel better and comfortable.

Fantasy 🔥 — You’ve been fantasizing about giving a blow job to Shawn and your fantasy finally becomes reality, blowing not just his mind.

I got you — You’ve been keeping it a secret that you’re pregnant, worried what Shawn might say, but a sudden incident forces you to confess.

Leaving — You don’t want him to leave again. Emotional conversation in the middle of the night.

Slipped 🌈 — Shawn accidentally reveals at a Q&A that he has a girlfriend.

Happy father’s day 🌷 — A creative way to tell Shawn that you are expecting your first child.

Summer fling — You feel like you’ve been just a summer fling for Shawn, but soon he confesses that it’s much more than that.

Icebath 🌈 — Shawn has been terrified to take an icebath but his body needs it so he agrees to do it but only if you do it with him.

Don’t say my name 🔥 — You absolutely hate the t-shirt he is wearing tonight, so he finds a way to make you like it.

Love Of My Life (part 1) (part 2) 🌷 — Touring with a baby in the first part, touring with a toddler in the second part. Pure fluff with Dad!Shawn.

Better — A blurb where Shawn is the cutest boyfriend ever, holding his girlfriend tight after she had a bad day.

Everything about you 🌷🌈 — You’re Shawn’s personal assistant, have been having feelings for him, but a misunderstood situation pushes you and him farther away from each other until you confront him.

Red thong 🔥 🌈 — Shawn, standing tall, and very much naked, looking down at you, practically fucking you with his eyes, your lacy thong hanging from his mouth that he just pulled off of you with his teeth.

Lesson learned — It’s Shawn’s 21st birthday but not he is the drunkest one. Aaliyah’s first time drinking has him worried, but he finds entertainment in her teasing in the morning.

Sober — bartender!Shawn oneshot where you meet a cute guy during a night out, but he turns out to be the new guy working at your fav bar.

Teeth 🔥🌈— A juicy sugardaddy!ceo!shawn au insipired by Teeth by 5SOS

Unfortunate mistake — You and Shawn used to be an item. Meeting at the VMAs turns out to be more eventful than you imagined when you accidentally kiss him. Or was it meant to happen?

First times 🔥— Shawn and you have shared some firsts, but drifted apart during the years. It’s only until he shows up one thanksgiving and the two of you finally talk everything out.

One more — You and Shawn have twins, Charlotte and Miles and it’s the first day of school for them. It makes both of you emotional seeing them grow up so fast.

Lurking — Shawn lurks on your ex’s Insta and definitely doesn’t like what he sees there.

October 🌈 — Personal assistant themed fic inspired by October by Alessia Cara

Cinnamon — A peaceful day in the park with Shawn.

Careful what you wish for — You and Shawn are married, but it’s getting harder with each day. After a bad fight you make a wish upon a shooting star that turns your whole world upside down.

Opia --- Being Shawn’s friend has become emotionally tiring for you, especially since he is more than just a friend to you, so you ask for a break, but things don’t turn out as you expect them to.

Hands 🔥 --- The choker you want to wear: Shawn’s hands.

Sock 🌈 --- college!shawn au - Shawn and you live in the same dorm and one evening you both get locked out by your roommates who are having guests over.

After party --- Shawn chooses to spend the night with his very pregnant fiancé over going to an after party.

Yoga --- Shawn is being extra clingy while you’re just trying to do yoga.

Valentine’s Day --- The day that brings a change into your relationship with Shawn.

Sibling --- Your family of three is expanding and it’s time to reveal to your son that he is about to become a big brother. Shawn handles his awkward questions pretty fine.

Sister --- Part 2 to Sibling. The arrival of baby number 2 is a little messy, but eventually everything is going to be fine.

Choices --- CEO!Shawn AU. Working to The Shawn Mendes doesn’t turn out like you imagined it.

Crazy about you --- Sequel to Everything about you. Coordinating a new, secret relationship when you feel like the universe is playing against you.

Goodbye --- You have one rule. You never say goodbye. So what happens when in the heat of an arguement Shawn says the forbidden word and then things take a turn for the worse?

Hardest To Love --- Fic based on the song Hardest To Love by The Weeknd

Tease 🔥 --- Teasing has consequences. Dom!Shawn fic.

Number 20 🌷 --- AU based on the movie ‘What’s Your Number?’

Curls and boobs --- Cuddling in a blanket fort.

Privacy --- Shawn is doubting himself because of a stupid dream, and your privacy gets invaded that just worsens the situation.

Sleepless --- Pregnancy brings a lot of struggles to you, like not being able to sleep comfortably.

Two weeks --- PA themed fic! Quarantined with your boss who youa re in love with? That’s quite the situation!

Who you are --- soon-to-be-mob-boss!Shawn au, that’s it, that’s the fic

Hints --- Non-famous AU where Shawn is your brother’s best friend and you have the fattest crush on him.

Love hating you --- College!hockeyplayer!Shawn au where you start as enemies.

Better --- Morning with Shawn, a fluffy blurb.

I need you 🔥 --- Shawn needs you in the most intimate way.

Birthday tradition --- You and Shawn have had a birthday tradition for years, but this year you feel like things might change.

What you are to me --- (PA themed) Shawn celebrates is birthday with an epic vacation. Your feelings for him and your own demons are making it a mess and things take a surprising turn.

Empty promise 🔥 ---  You try that TikTok trend out on Shawn where you send him a dirty text out in the public.

It’s alright --- Shawn helps you through one of your darker days.

Scoring You 🌷 --- college!soccerplayer!Shawn AU

I never stopped loving you --- Sequel to Hardest To Love

Room service --- CEO!Shawn AU, where you’re a maid at a hotel who gets fired and ends up in Shawn’s room.

Wonder --- Shawn wrote a song about you back when you first met, now it’s time to show it to you.

Hot Chocolate --- Some teasing on a cozy fall evening.

My wonder --- A short story built around the songs Dream, Song for no one and Teach me how to love from Wonder the album.

Day one — A late night talk with Grayson that ends with a kiss and confessions.

Hot 🌈 — After someone tries to break into your home Grayson comes to your rescue and you spend the night at his place, the two of you share his bed for the night.

Angel — You’re a nurse assisting to the twins’ nose surgery and Grayson is flirting hard with you while the goofy juice has him muddle-headed. When they come back for a check up he builds up the courage to ask you out.

Memories 🌷 --- You are childhood friends with the Dolan siblings and you recreate childhood photos, but one recreation results in surprising consequences.

Even — You thought it’s going to be easier to deal with the fact that Tom and Zendaya has to kiss in the new movie. But it turns out different and Tom has an unusual idea to solve this problem. To make it even, you also have to kiss Z.

My girls — While Tom is away you shower him with content about you and Tessa, being the best buddies, waiting for him to finally come home.

Helping hand 🔥 🌈 — Tom is having a hard day on set and needs something to get the steam off. You are more than happy to help him out.

The kiss — Tom makes your dream come true by kissing you in that famous, upside-down way like in the original movies.

Truth or Dare — The story of two kisses that are exactly one decade apart.

Okay --- Just some cute fluff with boyfriend Tom.

Buzz cut --- In the middle of your social distancing you decide to shave your head.Tom is a partner in the process.

Sleepy babies 🌈 --- Waking in the middle of the night you find your husband sleeping with your daughter in his arms.

Dust --- You have a nightmare after seeing Tom die in Infinity War, but Tom is there to console you.

Sunset --- Tom reminds you why you are so in love with me.

Sing to me --- Watching the sunset with Tom as he sings to you.

Celebrity crush --- In a round of Who’d you rather with Ellen, your crush on Tom gets revealed to the world.

Forgiving 🔥 (kinda) ---  You and Tom like to experiment sexually. After having your first ever threesome with him and an unknown guy you realize it was not what you wanted but you’re afraid to come clear to Tom.

Homecoming — Homecoming is near and you wish Peter would ask you out. You’ve been crushing on him since you met him, but does he feel the same way?

Lazy Morning --- The title says it all basically.

Update 🌈 --- Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube.

The best present --- Sequel to Update.

Flatmates 🔥 --- You move in with Harry and after a failed Tinder date, Harry proposes an offer you can’t turn down.

Two hearts in one home --- Just a short, domestic blurb!

Lending a pair of hands --- An appreciation fic for saggy boobs!

Never have I ever 🌈 --- Actress!reader playing the game on The Ellen Show with Harry, her celeb crush. Questions get a little nasty.

The art and the artist --- Harry, that amazing hat from the Golden mv and a nice Italian day by the pool.

Our song --- Harry helps vocalist!reader to come over her stage fright and the process brings them closer than ever.

Running — Nick is done hiding his feelings for you. After his marriage failed he is ready to be with the girl he has always been in love with.

In His Arms — The ending we all deserved in TROS.

Safe --- Kylo wants to know that you are safe even when he is not around, so he decides to teach you how to fight.

Everything --- Sequel to Safe. You gave up on a lot of things to be with Kylo. You crave small, normal things like dancing sometimes and one day you take your chance before training and ask him to dance with you.

Benefits --- You and Adam meet at an AA meeting and soon enough, a weird, but benefitial relationship forms between the two of you.

Train ride talks --- The aftermath of a fight with a cute ending.

❄️ FANFICmas 2019 ❄️

A set of holiday themed fics!

Mistletoe - Promise - Make It To Christmas - Cookies - Under The Mistletoe - A couple of reindeers - Santa Tell Me (Part 1)(Part 2)

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

My business - With you - And I always will - First Christmas (VALERIE blurb) - Locked up Christmas - Waiting for you - Keys of truth

[galaxyofmyown]

Hi!! I'm not sure if you'll take it (and that's 100% okay!!) but as a request can you write hotch x younger, shy reader? I'm just all about that age gap with him (yes, that's my daddy issues speaking up). Have a nice day!! ❤

hi! this was so fun to write. i was aiming for like, idk, 500 words? and then oops! i wrote almost 2000. i accidentally made it specifically for a female reader, so let me know if that doesn’t work for you and i can tweak it. also, sorry if the end feels rushed, but i’m about to fall asleep and i wanted to wrap this one up so i could write the other requests tomorrow. let me know what you think! xx

aaron hotchner x reader - surprise me

“Hey, (Y/N). Drinks? Everyone’s going.” You hear Derek ask. You smile before spinning around in your desk chair.

“God, yes. I was hoping you’d ask, I really need to blow off some steam.” You reply, getting up and grabbing your bag, having already packed up for the night. The team had just gotten back from Middle-of-Nowhere, Kansas, and to say the case was intellectually challenging was an understatement. It felt a lot like piecing together a never-ending puzzle, but you had saved the lives of countless innocent people. There was no better feeling.

Drinking is a close second, however, which is why you were impatiently pacing near the elevator as the rest of your team gathered their things. As soon as everyone arrived, you filed into the elevator.

“You look excited, (Y/N).” Emily said with a smile, knocking her shoulder into yours. You laugh.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Any excuse to spend more time with my favorite group of people!” You say, your voice taking on a teasing tone as you poke a pink-polished finger into Reid’s side. Reid yelps and jumps away, blushing slightly. The rest of the team laughs, Morgan reaching to ruffle his hair. You smile at the sight. They were truly a second family to you. The elevator doors were nearly closed when a large hand reached in and caused the doors to jerk and reopen.

And there he was.

Your boss, Aaron Hotchner. You tensed despite yourself as he slid in right next to you. Rossi clapped him on the shoulder.

“Nice of you to join us.” He said. Hotch nodded, professional as ever. Everyone looked as surprised as you felt.

“You’re coming out with us, sir? You never come.” Garcia said, not unkindly. You all understood his commitment to his son, so you couldn’t really blame him for always being too busy for drinks. Unlike everyone else, your surprise was less pleasant and more panicked. Even though you’d been on the team for well over a year, you still found it extremely difficult to talk to Hotch outside of a case.

It might have something to do with you being head over heels for the older man.

“Jack is with his aunt for the weekend, so JJ convinced me to tag along. I hope that’s alright with everyone.” He said, looking directly at you. You nod and force a tight smile, missing the way your discomfort makes his brows furrow.

There goes your plan to let loose. You can’t help but monitor every word, every movement you make when you’re around Hotch. You found him attractive the moment you met him, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you realized you actually had feelings for the man. You loved how caring and loyal he was, and you appreciated every smile and laugh he allowed himself. He was also a natural leader, solid in a way no other man in your life had been. You understood, however, that Hotch would never settle for someone as young and inexperienced as you. Aside from the odd celebrity crush, you had never felt so attracted to an older man. It left you floundered, constantly at a loss for words. He probably thought you were an immature girl who couldn’t control her feelings at 28.

You rode with Emily to the bar, who couldn’t stop laughing at your nerves. She was your best friend, so she knew all about your unfortunate crush. Hopefully she was the only one.

“He’s really a nice guy, (Y/N). Not intimidating at all. Well, not when you actually talk to him. You should try it sometime.” She said, pulling the bar door open for you. You rolled your eyes.

“I do talk to him. That’s the problem. The more I’m around him the more likely it is that I die of a broken heart. Do you want me to die, Prentiss? Is that what you want?” You said. Emily barks out a laugh at your theatrics. Your conversation is cut short as you approach the large round booth your team is occupying for the night. Emily sneaks over to sit next to Rossi, leaving only the seat next to Hotch. She smiles with false sweetness and you slide in across from her, and you kick her lightly under the table. You stay as close to the edge of the seat as you can manage, trying your hardest not to impinge on Hotch’s personal space.

You’re about to ask if anyone wants a drink when Hotch slides your favorite drink, a Moscow Mule, over to you.

“It’s your favorite, right?” Hotch asks, his voice soft over the noise of the bar. You falter. How did he know that? You probably haven’t ordered a drink in front of him in months.

“Um, uh, yeah. Thank you.” You say. He nods curtly. You both turn away from each other, and you sip at your drink, hoping it’ll take the edge off soon enough. 

Despite the pleasant conversation you have with your team, you can’t shake your nerves. Three drinks deep and still feeling like you’ve had the breath knocked out of you every time you see Hotch laugh.

“So, Hotch. Anyone special in your life?” Garcia asks boldly, trying to shake the attention off her and her current love life.

Nope. Not happening. You get up from the table abruptly, shaking the table slightly as you do so. Great, now everyone is looking at you.

“Um. Anybody want another drink?” You ask. JJ requests another vodka soda and Hotch politely asks for a beer. You never drink beer, but you’re too nervous to ask which kind. You rush off to the bar, where a bartender about your age is wiping down the counter.

“Hi! Can I get a vodka soda, a glass of water, and a beer, please?” You ask, feeling your nerves dissolve. The bartender looks up, his blonde hair falling over his eyes.

“What kind of beer?” He asks. You shrug, defeated.

“Honestly, just surprise me.” You say. He smiles, clearly amused, and turns to get your drinks. You don’t even notice someone approaching until you hear a familiar voice clear his throat.

“(Y/N).” He says. You turn, trying not to shy away as Hotch towers over you.

“Yes?” You say, willing your voice to not sound squeaky.

“Can we talk?” He asks, pulling at his tie. 

Fuck.

“Sure. Let me just…” You trail off, motioning at the bartender. Hotch nods in understanding. Just as he does, the bartender slides the drinks over to you. Hotch grabs JJ’s drink and walks it over to her. Emily sends you a suggestive look from across the room. You flip her off and turn to the bartender.

“Please add these to Emily Prentiss’ tab. That’s P-R-E-N-T-I-S-S.” You say, and the bartender laughs.

“No problem, um-” He says. You smile.

“(Y/N).” You say, filling in his blank.

“Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He says before being flagged down by another customer.

You turn around with your water and Hotch’s beer, only to bump right into the older man.

“Jesus fuck!” You exclaim as ice water stings your hand. Hotch laughs, a deep rumbling sound that completely entrances you.

“Sorry.” He says, freeing up one of your hands by taking his beer.

“I hope you like that kind. I’m not much of a beer drinker.” You say, trying for a smooth recovery. Hotch nods appreciatively.

“This is perfect,” He says, and you unclench slightly, “could we talk outside? It’s a bit loud in here.”

You nod, and he guides you out of the bar with his hand on your elbow. The crisp evening air takes some over the edge off. Hotch leans against the brick wall and you do the same. You’re only illuminated by the purple neon “open” sign hanging over you.

“I wanted to apologize.” Hotch blurts out, taking you by surprise. You tilt your head to the side, asking a silent question. Hotch almost dies on the spot.

“I- I’ve acted inappropriately towards you, and for that I apologize. I value your expertise and think you’re an invaluable member of this team. I never intended to make you uncomfortable.” He says in a rush, throwing you completely off guard. It takes you a moment to remember how to talk, but when you do all that comes out is-

“What are you talking about?”

Hotch runs a hand through his hair and smiles, but it looks painful.

“Please, (Y/N), don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“That I have feelings for you.”

And then you wake up.

Well, this is the part where you should wake up, but you’re still here, outside with Hotch. Hotch. Aaron Hotchner. Who likes you.

“What?” You said, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Hotch smiles again, resigned.

“Please. You must’ve noticed. I haven’t been exactly inconspicuous. And again, I’m sorry. It must make you very uncomfortable for someone more advanced than you in both age and position to be so blatant in their feelings for you.”

“What is happening?” You whisper, mostly to yourself. “You- you like me?” You ask as if he hasn’t made it obvious enough. Hotch actually has the audacity to look ashamed as he nods. After you’ve had a moment to process, you can’t help the world-stopping, blinding smile that graces your face. You tentatively reach for his hand. Hotch looks up at you in disbelief as you entwine your fingers with him.

“(Y/N)?” He asks carefully, not fully trusting the scene unfolding before him.

“I had no idea,” You say, feeling elated, “I always thought I was the one being obvious about my feelings.”

Hotch jerks his hand away, and your face falls.

“But- you shouldn’t have any feelings. Not for me.” He says, his face turning stony before your eyes. 

“Why not?”

“Because, (Y/N)! I’m too old for you. I can’t give you what I want. You deserve to be with someone your age, someone who can give you all of his time.” He says, taking a step away from you. You take another step towards him.

“Hey, no. Is your name Aaron Hotchner?” You ask, pulling him towards you.

“What? Yes.” He says, clearly confused. You slowly and gently take his face in your hands, bringing his forehead down to yours.

“Then you are what I want, Aaron.” You whisper, the name tasting sweet in your mouth. Hotch practically melts, pulling you into a hug by your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and revel in the warmth of his body and fast beat of his heart. 

“(Y/N), my darling girl,” He says softly, pulling back slightly. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. You nod eagerly, and he pulls you to him. He kisses the way he loves, carefully yet passionately. When you pull away you feel like a new woman, and you wrap your arms around him once again.

“You are amazing.” He says, his words warming you even more than his touch. You kiss him again.

“Let’s go home, Aaron.” You say. And you do.

[batarella]

The Commander - Part 9 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

I just want to thank you all for the kind comments and messages. I was afraid of disappointing you with the next chapters. So please let me know what you all think! It lets me know if I’m on the right track!

WORDS: 3272 WARNINGS: UHMMMM YOU FIGHT WITH JASON AND THEN THERE’S A WHOLE MIX OF ANGSTY FLUFF AND FLUFFY ANGST 

Masterlist

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

“So what do they call you? Peashooter?”

This kid was a fucking menace. And the red and yellow on his suit just made him even more irritating to look at. The bullets just bounced off of him. Either that, or she’ll have to face her uncle for missing so many shots at once. She gripped onto the two pistols with her life.

Aim for the head.

She saw his cape rolling into a pile of boxes and fired.

“Silver Sniper! The Mini Gunner! Come on, I can think of loads of names right now!”

The boxes had become an exploded mess by then. Robin wasn’t there. She backed off, panting. Y/N had to get out of this. She focused on the sounds, or any movement from the ground’s vibrations, but there was nothing. Which meant-

“Fuck!” Robin jumped from the ledge above and tackled her to the ground. Y/N kneed his groin, then landed a punch on his face. She pushed him off of her and ducked just as he pounced for her head.

He blocked her kicks with his arms, then grabbed her right fist, then her left, just as she threw them, but she high kicked his hold and pushed him back. She kept throwing her punches, and he easily blocked them without blinking.

Y/N growled, but Robin just smirked at her. He threw a punch at her stomach, but didn’t see her foot aiming just at his chest.

He threw back, and it was enough time for her to pick up her pistols and aim at his head.

But just as she pulled the trigger, two batarangs landed right at the muzzels. The firearms exploded in her hands and her body was thrown to the floor. Robin laughed. “You were looking an awful lot like Lara Croft there, kid.”

“You think this is intimidating me, bird boy?”

“Without your precious guns, maybe it is.”

Xxxx

Jason ran right up to her, withstanding all the bullets she could fire with his armor thick enough to go against missiles, and pushed her to the ground, picking up her guns and throwing them over the roof. The Commander kicked him in the stomach and rolled off.

“No guns.”

His voice filter just sounded annoying at this point. Y/N picked herself up and ran to him, throwing a punch aiming for his neck. He saw her alternating strikes and dodged every one of them, blocking her knee with his own wrist. She landed a kick, but he grabbed her ankle and flung her off to the ledge, her back hitting the cement.

“Stop throwing me around, asshole!” she coughed.

This man was one she wanted dead at some point and was so tempted to help kill him, she was almost at the front gates of Arkham just to do so. At the last minute, she decided against it.

She might be a killer, but she was no monster.

Then she ended up sleeping with that same man, several times, even going so far as sharing a kiss at a time and place that a kiss meant the most.

And here he was again, Jason, finishing a war that started years ago.

Jason skidded to her front, his shoes making her lose balance. They rolled around the floor, with either on top and throwing their fists only to meet the ground. Y/N was first to roll off and regain her stance, but Jason managed to duck before she hit his head.

She had to tire him out. His hits were strong. Too strong in fact. More of those and his arms would eventually weaken. It was her turn to block his fists, her torso turning around while also keeping an eye on his lower body.

Her punches were swift, fast, and almost as light as air. They weren’t enough on their own, but if she gained her momentum it would be enough to throw her opponent off. She knew Jason had that in mind, especially since he was the exact opposite. He was slower, but each hit was strong enough to land her on the ground.

It had always been hard to best him. In fact, she never could say she’d beaten him in a fight. But this will be the first.

As a fight long awaited, it was too bad no one else saw them. They were dancing. A violent, bone-crushing dance.

And it was epic.

Her legs were flying in the air as Y/N twisted his arm and placed her whole weight right on his shoulder. She pulled at his wrist, gaining a cry from him.

“Get off me!”

“You asked for this, you son of a-“

And a massive blow of his strength pushed her off. She was panting, and she let her guard down for a split second and he had her against the wall, grabbing her by the collar.

“This making you hard, Knight?” she whispered.

Jason should’ve seen her knee between his legs. He let go of her, and she tackled him to the ground. She tried hitting his visor, but her already bruised fist gave out and Jason flipped them over.

He held her down with his muscled arm hard against her neck. Y/N struggled and she could only look up to his visor. The glass had broken and his grunts were no longer filtered. She could see his face, teeth gritting, and his eyes looking straight back at her. She used the last of her strength to push him off.

It had to be hours. The Commander was panting, and all her limbs felt like falling to the ground. “Stop!” Jason said, struggling to pull himself up the floor. He had to catch his breath as well, opening his visor to let the cold air in. She leaned her arm against the cement.

The sky had lightened. And the stars had disappeared. She was breathing so hard the air just seemed too thin. Jason laid flat on the ground, staring blankly above. Y/N pressed her back against the ledge and her body melted to the ground.

The worthiest opponent. And still, no one bested the other. She waited until the air wasn’t such a blur and the floor no longer spinning, and he on the ground. They sat there for as long as they’d fought until the sun had fully risen.

He hadn’t said a word, but she could see his chest rising and falling, eventually into a steadier pace. When she thought she could, she stood up, slowly walking up to Jason.

She caught his eye, and extended her hand. He looked at her up and down, but for once, he actually took it. She pulled him up.

“This conversation never happened.”

Jason pulled his hand away. “Just the conversation or everything that happened after it?”

“Need I remind you the militia leaves for Gotham in three days. This was stupid. We don’t have time for this.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

She brushed off her suit, lasting a glare at him before turning for the hatch on the floor. She pulled it open.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said.

She didn’t even look back at him. “Fuck off.”

Xxxxx

Her head was burning. She needed ice, right at the center of her cheek. She tried not to look at Jason or else she’d attack him from across the table again. He had a new visor on, as if he kept spare ones in his drawers. If she had broken bones somewhere they’ll have to be ignored.

“I told Stagg the Cloudburst arrives in Gotham today. He’s responsible for hiding it in his bunkers until I give the signal.”

Deathstroke filled in. “How do we filter out the effects from our men?”

“Their masks give them immunity,” said the Knight.

“And does everyone have this mask? I told you we had new recruits.”

“Everyone is accounted for,” Crane said. “Our men will be fine.”

“Have you even tested the toxin recently?”

Scarecrow stood from his chair. “The Cloudburst will do much more than just release the toxin. I’ve asked Stagg to amplify its poison gas into the density of rainclouds. The city will be a barren wasteland. And if the Dark Knight fails, all of Gotham will fall.”

Jason seemed satisfied. “I’ll make sure to alert our men before I release the toxin.”

“I thought the Commander drives the Cloudburst,” said Slade.

“If it has anything to do with facing Batman head on, I’ll do it. The Commander’s tasked mainly at HQ.”

“Actually,” Crane said. “Commander Y/N has the expertise to control the tank, don’t you Commander?”

The Commander sat back against the chair. “I do.”

“She’s the best man for the job, Knight.”

“I said, I’ll do it. We had a deal. I get to kill Batman!”

Scarecrow wasn’t bothered. “And is it with the Cloudburst that you end his life with? The Cloudburst isn’t used as our primary weapon, Knight. It is used for the toxin.”

“It’s the best weapon we’ve got.”

“Then perhaps that means our drones are far from enough.”

Slade stammered, “Those drones are mine and they work perfectly.”

“I don’t care if I have a knife or a tank,” Jason said. “He looks into my eyes while he dies.”

“Your delay in Gotham tells me your history with the Dark Knight will work to your disadvantage.”

Fuck.

“We had to hack into GCPD,” The Commander finally said. She’d join in on the argument, but her jaw hurt too much. Then she took out the hacking device from her jacket and slid it across the table to Slade.

“The Commander has her own work. I will not just sit in a chair and watch everything happen from a camera.”

“We all know you won’t be doing that, kid,” Deathstroke interrupted. “I say we send the Commander.”

“Her best position is to watch and control all comms and drones at HQ. She will lead the whole army. I gave her that job weeks ago, Wilson.”

“Enough,” the Commander said. “I’ll take the Cloudburst. The Knight can take a serpent drone and attack the Alpha Target once the tank destroys his car. He kills him right then.”

Slade slams his palms against the table. “How bout that?”

“A serpent drone?”

“I fire at his car, you make sure your visor filters out the gas and you take him out from above.”

Jason seemed skeptical, but Deathstroke had already stood up from his chair. “Have at it, Commander.”

Jason wasn’t having it. He went after Slade after he’d left the room. The commander winced at the pain in her lower body, struggling to even stand up. She started for the door, and Crane blocked her out.

“Commander,” he whispered. Y/N pretended not to look at him.

“What?”

“I know what went on with you and the Knight.”

The Commander kept looking at the ground. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I have eyes in Gotham. You cannot talk your way out of this.”

“Whatever it is you think, that isn’t the case. Nothing happened between us.”

Crane neared his face dangerously close to Y/N. And suddenly, she had a whiff of his toxin. It was in his breath. In a daze, she looked straight into his eyes and saw demons crawl out of them. Her breath was shortened and she stiffed.

“I don’t care about either of you,” he said. “But if this affects the deployment of my toxin in any way, I’ll make sure he suffers your own consequences.”

“Get out of my face, Crane.”

“I know your fear. I know everybody’s fear. The Knight is deadly, but the man’s as fragile as broken glass. And as stubborn as a mangy dog. You would know that.”

He was making her see it. And hear things she wasn’t supposed to hear. There were screams. Not hers, but of Jason’s. And she could see his face crying out in agony. But she couldn’t look away from the blackness that was Crane’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Yes, in fact, you do,” Crane breathed and backed away.

There were still remnants of the toxin when he headed out the door.

“You have two days, Commander. Make it count.”

Xxxx

It was death.

That was what stared at her in the face.

It wasn’t just Jason, or Crane. It was death.

It was cold, and the streets were barren and full of shit. They were far away from the city, but the countryside had a small town just a mile away. She didn’t have to take her bike. Y/N walked even when the sidewalks were small enough for her to be run over at just a slight turn of a wheel.

But she didn’t care, not even when she felt it rain so slightly, the droplets disappeared as it made contact with her clothes. Y/N pulled up her hood and continued down the road.

There weren’t much people, even at this hour. She wasn’t even afraid anyone would pull her to the alleys and leave her defenseless. Her focus was on the ground, moving downward until she met the curb.

The light glowed red, even with no cars passing by. She stood there, waiting. And in front of her was a small diner.

It was the classic retro feel. There was a jukebox at the corner, red seats backed up against the window while a waitress in blue took the orders of the two people inside. A mother and her son. He seemed happy with the single slice of pie on his plate.

She looked away before she’s thought about it even more.

But even then, it was too late. It hurt before it even dawned to her.

In another world, where she wasn’t taken in by her uncle, she’d have gone into a diner just like the one in front of her, ordered a burger and a chocolate milkshake knowing the rain would fall in and it would take her too long to get home for dinner. Then she’ll take a seat at the counter.

In that world, she’d have met a boy looking at her from a few seats away, smiling. And she’d smile back when her order appears and they realized they got the exact same mix of the smoothie they wanted. The boy would take the seat beside her, ask for her name. And he’d tell her his. That boy would have the brightest blue eyes and she could already tell he had the habit of scratching his nose.

And they’ll talk all night even after everyone else in the diner had left, when the cook had to drive them out. He would offer to take her home, and she’d decline at first, but eventually give in. She wanted to give in. And by the end of the day, he’d have her number and they’ll see each other that weekend again. In that same diner.

In that world, she wasn’t a world-renowned assassin, and Jason wasn’t a vigilante with a broken past.

But-

But-

Fuck. She was so in love with him, it was terrifying.

But they had no business being kids, being cute, being so harmlessly in love and go on walks and even dates.

They had no business lying on the floor, eating burgers at three in the afternoon.

They had no business being so uncomplicated, when everything comes so easily and nothing would be at stake.

They had no business having a relationship. No matter how much she’d have wanted that. Not after their history. Not after what they’ve both been through. Not after what Floyd had raised her into and partially stripped her of anything normal.

Jason. Tortured. Being mauled on the floor while a madman beats him like a lifeless sack of hay.

Then someone stood beside her. She didn’t have to look at him.

“Stop following me.”

Jason didn’t answer. He looked on at the diner and he had the same look on his eyes as she had.

“You look at the diner, too.”

“Go. Away.”

He didn’t leave. Instead, they stood at the side of the street, not moving even when the light in front of them turned green.

She didn’t say anything more. Didn’t even look at him.

“I wish… I did something,” she swallowed. “I wish I wanted to save you.”

“Stop. I didn’t mean what I said. Forget about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said stop.”

The woman in the diner held up a spoonful of pie and her son opened his mouth wide. It looked delicious even from the distance. The traffic light turned red and just one car drove off in front of them.

“Jason-“

“I saw the look on your face. Back at the cave. I knew you’d have figured everything out by then, about what happened to me at Arkham.”

She was stone cold and stiff.

“But none of that mattered. I didn’t care if you wanted me dead at one point. The whole day I was with you in Gotham, it was the first day I hadn’t thought about Joker… or Batman. Anything.

“I walked out of the cave hoping you wouldn’t run away after knowing who I was. So I kissed you. And you kissed me back. Then I let you hold me and I told you my name. Then… Jesus…”

Y/N still hadn’t turned away. She wasn’t crying. She couldn’t. It was the droplets from the rain that ran down her cheeks. Nothing else.

And by that time the traffic light had turned back to being green, the diner was dark and empty. She didn’t want to look to her side. Somehow, she knew Jason would just walk away, without so much as another word. He’d do something like that, and it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

But he stayed.

For a long while, he did. So she asked, without much to expect.

“Can you walk me home?”

Just that. She could at least have that. Something so miniscule from the world she longed to be.

“Okay.”

He stayed right beside her. All the way back to the barracks. And the dark rain prevailed.

And it was the same when they reached the empty training grounds, deep into the back where the living quarters were. The walk to their rooms was silent, and their clothes drenched the floors all the way up to hers. Jason walked straight into his, without so much as another word.

She went into her room and locked the door, but her hand didn’t leave the doorknob. She stood there, silent and alone. Y/N never felt so lost.

But it had to have been long minutes, because she heard four knocks on her door before she’s even walked away. She opened it and Jason was standing there, his hair a wet mess, and he held up a coffee mug.

“Hot water,” he said. “Drink it before bed.”

Y/N didn’t have much energy left to decline. She took it from him. “Thank you.”

Jason stepped back, and she closed the door again.

Her whole body leaned against the hard wood of the door and she could feel a part of herself drip to the floor at each second she’d have to look into his hurt eyes. She’d fallen in so deep, and she hated herself for it.

She opened the door, determined to go after him.

But he was still there, at the door, just about to go into her room himself.

Y/N’s never felt so at the edge of breaking down when she met his eyes, panting. And with the pain, came the rush of cold air, the rush of cold relief. Jason went into her room, pushed her against the door to close it. He could feel her breath, wanting him.

He held the back of her drenched head and pulled her to his lips. She dug in to his hair, gripping it hard when his lips escaped hers and found their way back to her neck. Her other hand traveled down his clothed arms. She gasped, and Jason slowly guided them both to move to the bed. He’ll never pull away. Soon there were no more boundaries between them, no distance. They lasted all night, no longer with any trace of regret.

-----

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

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SMUT FANS. YA’LL KNOW IT’S ABOUT TO GET DOWN IN THE NEXT CHAPTER

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[riofann]

Rio Random 2.0

Part 1 

Once again you and Aunt Brenda are at a tennis tournament. It had been weeks since your last interaction with Rio 

“So what’s going on with you and that fine young thing what’s his name?”

“Don’t know who you’re talking about” you fib 

“You know that one with the tattoos” 

You sigh “Rio Aunt Brenda?”

“Yes, yes him. Mr.Rio”

You shrug “I don’t know.... nothing”

“Have you even tried talking to the man” by now she knew the details of how you two met and how you three found yourself in this situation 

“I don’t want to be lied to” 

“You never know he might tell you the truth honey” she retorts playfully hitting your arm 

“No he lied for so long what’s the difference now?”

“Maybe the difference is that he no longer has to lie and you two can move forward”

“Can we just watch the match”

She puts her hands up “Sure sure but it would be a shame to let that go”

Your head whips around and now you’re beyond irritated. It was hard enough trying to get over him, her talking about him wasn’t helping “It was a shame for him to lie to me whose side are you on?” 

“Yours! Yours! I'm sorry honey. I just want to see you happy” she soothes sensing your irritation 

You’re shoulders slump and you lean into her “I know”

“Just reach out” 

You take in a deep breath as you think about it. 

~~~~~You took the leap of faith and did as Brenda instructed you two were to meet at the local restaurant a little upscale, quiet and private. However you find yourself wanting to curse him out the second you see him.

He rushes over “heeyyy mama” he says smiling at you

You cut your eyes at him “30 minutes!” you scold

He chuckles “I’m sorry”

“30 minutes Rio and you couldn't send a text, been blowing me up to meet and then you show up 30 minutes late?!.... wow”

He leans over and kisses your cheek “tranquilo mami”

He knows what that does to you and immediately you take in a deep breath and blow out slowly 

“I'm sorry okay i was handling something” he says as he seats across from you 

“Okay”

“You look good” he compliments

“Order your food!” you bark now hangry

“Si mami”

“Don’t” you roll your eyes 

He chuckles “my bad my bad”

You sit and watch as the waiter walks up and he orders his food putting his phone face down he leans back on his chair “so what’chu wanna talk to me about?”

You shrug “Nothing now”

“Come on I said i'm sorry” He gets up and pulls the chair closer to you, so instead of sitting across from you, now he was to the right of you. 

“Why didn't you send a text?”

“I couldn't”

“Why not?”

He leans forward, staring you down “Y/N”  he gives you a look “cuz i couldn’t” 

And for a moment you had forgotten who he was and what he did

“Oh” you utter coming to the realization of just why he couldn’t 

“Yea I’m sorry I’ll make it up to you” 

“Okay”

“So......” he drawls leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink 

“Sooo you dance and play tennis?”

He smiles “yea calms my nerves”

“What could possibly make you nervous you're Rio”

“You have no idea” He smirks 

“What else?”

“What else what?” 

“What else do you do that I don't know” 

“I prefer you don’t find out and I’m not bout to tell you” 

You roll your eyes “Anyway....Why did you lie to me?”

“So you don’t have any other hobbies”

“I prefer you find out the natural way, I don’t want to have to tell you” 

“It's complicated”

“We have time......” you say as you cut the appetizer with your knife and fork “....or do you have something else to prioritize” you speak with an attitude laced in your words.  He hates to admit it but he missed your sass. It was always funny to him the pencil pushing good girls had the worst mouth on them. 

He smirks and sits up straight. “I’m here”

“So I was some sort of front?” you had slowly pieced things together however you didn't know why 

“Yea at the beginning but not anymore”

You can’t help but roll your eyes “Please”

He sits up and leans closer to you “Stop rollin yo eyes at me” he speaks so calmly but there's a threat lying underneath that tone 

You huff “Fine” 

“I aint lying to you tho”

You look at him for a moment before you decide to speak again and resist the urge to roll your eyes. It's more difficult than you imagined. Your facial expressions were a main form of communication for you. 

“So what are you gonna do about Krystal?”  What was he really going to do about apparently being in another relationship with another woman simultaneously?

“Ima take care of it” 

“I don’t know! maybe” you argue 

“How?” you snap, he raises his brow at you before taking another sip of his drink,  you pause before you speak again “.... Maybe you shouldn't..... maybe if you talk to her.... I don't know.... reconcile” 

“You sayin  i should go back to her?”

“Nah she ain’t for me” 

“And I am? I don't know your world!” you comment

“I don't want you to”

“So how can we be together if you only show me a part of you?”

He leans forward again, speaking slowly to add emphasis “Y/N, I don’t want you to. I just want you there I don't want you to ever feel like you gotta pick up a gun to prove a point or protect yourself”

You take a deep breath “and you think i won’t have to do that eventually?” 

He looks at you with his typical nonchalant  face “nah i got you” 

“I don't get it why did you even fall for me if I was just a facade?”

“I didn’t plan this shit. It just happened plus i got tired of feeling like all i did was take care of business 24/7. Who wants to be talking about cappin someone 24/7? I couldn’t even have my son around me when she was there! Plus I trust you. I trust you more than her and even tho she knows that side of my life i know you wont sell me to the wolves” 

You leave it at that because you feel like he would never tell you the truth, and you also felt like he was talking in circles, so you choose to proceed with caution. 

As soon as you arrived home later in the day you’re tired and ready to go to bed. Too many mixed emotions. Did you like Rio? Yes, Did you think your relationship would ever evolve into something more? No? Maybe? What is your relationship with him ? Side chick? Booty Call? FWB? BF/GF?  

“Hey!” You hear from behind you as your place the key in the door lock

“It’s okay, what's up? Why are you here?” you remember what Rio had said about her

Your body jumps, a natural reaction seeing that you were deep in thought and unaware of your surroundings “Oh my god!” The familiar voice however reduces the panic you’re feeling “You scared me!” you turned to face Krystal

“I’m sorry” 

“Oh I just decided to pay you a visit, mind if i come in?” she flashed you that smile, you were beginning to hate it

“Sure!”  you opened the door and let her in first “want something to drink?”

“Here you go!” 

“Yea what you got?”

“Liquor, wine”

“Oooh do you have Bourbon?”

“Yes”

“Bourbon on the rocks” Your mind flashes back and you remember all the times Rio had ordered Bourbon on the rocks and it made you sick, to think the entire time he was there with you his mind was with her

“Thanks!,” she pats at her leg “come here sweety” she speaks to your dog ‘Coconut’, instead of walking over Coconut looks between you two and opts to lay at your feet. “Ugh my dog does the same thing” 

“So why are you here again?” You were over this ‘visit’ already

“Have you talked to Rio lately?”

You find it odd that she would ask about Rio the same day you had lunch with him “Yea, had lunch today” no need to lie she probably knew 

“Hmm” she hums as she takes a sip of her drink “did he talk to you?”

“About?”

“Me and him?” she looks at you wearily, playing with the glass in her hand

You shrug “Umm just said you two were exes” 

You close the door and look at Coconut who barks at you from the stairs, “I know, i feel the same” 

She perks up, smiling at you “oh yea!” she takes a deep breath  “I’m sorry I should have told you but I didn’t, we are really good friends and I got caught up in the moment, I was drunk” you take note of her quick change in behavior, if they were truly exes she would have told you before she even introduced you two 

“It’s okay”

Quickly she finishes her drink without saying much else other than“Well i should probably get going it's late”

“Yea thanks for stopping by” you couldn’t wait for her to leave

“Yea! See you around” 

You opt to not even text Rio about Krystal's pop up at your house for all you know they were still seeing each other. However the ‘pop ups’ between Krystal and Rio were becoming a bit much. Weeks of them simultaneously showing up out of nowhere just to ‘chat’ were becoming unbearable.  By now it was obvious they were both stalking you. 

 The doorbell rang as you and Rio sat by the kitchen island ‘chatting’ it up. You hopped down and rushed towards down the steps in your split level home

“Hey!” you force a smile as Krystal walks in “We are waiting for you upstairs”

“We?” she turned to look at you from the foyer 

“Do you want what he has? Bourbon on the rocks” 

“Yea just keep going” you motion for her to climb the steps

It was as much as a surprise to her as it was to Rio seeing each other there

Rio runs his hand over his face settling it on his chin massaging it to ease his irritation. 

“Uh sure!” she says carefully placing her purse on the counter

“I'M SICK OF THIS SHIT! THIS TALKING IN CIRCLES! CONTINUOUSLY LYING TO ME! USING ME TO GET INTEL ON EACH OTHER!” 

“You can sit next to him you don’t have to act like he’s a stranger”

“Y/N” Rio begins but you cut him off

“SO! I don’t know what’s going on with you two! But I’m tired of the fucking pop ups! I don’t need to be scared half to death every fucking time one of you decides to pay me a visit! I don’t know how I’m connected to whatever fucking plot you two are concocting but i don’t want any parts of it”

“There’s no..” Krystal interjects, which only makes you even more angry and you just let it all out. So much for being calm cool and collected 

Both Rio and Beth look at each other 

“Sweety it's not like that” 

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME SWEETY BITCH” 

Krystal in turn looks to Rio to fix the problem

You take a deep breath to calm down, you were getting too worked up you could feel yourself getting ready to cry. “I don’t care! i just want both of you to know I’m done with both of you go find another pansy to fuck around with!” you turn to Rio and face him dead on “Go find another woman to fuck with while you lie about how much you “care” about her!  Now GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE AND NEVER CALL OR PAY ME A VISIT AGAIN” 

Krystal alarmed by your yelling, is quick to grab her things, she never expected this to happen. Rio slowly eases down from his seat and grabs his keys before leaving. He was beyond furious at the moment. 

“Y/N can we just” Krystal tries to bargain again

“GET OUT!” It comes out as a high pitched shriek  

When they both leave you slam the door and lock it. You know it wasn’t the end of whatever was going on but at least you stood up for yourself. And now you can finally let go and let the tears out 

Your dog Coconut groans and you nod in response, pulling her in for a hug. 

“Rio!” Krystal calls as she rushes to his side

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” his jaw is tight hands in his pockets

“We need to talk” 

“NO! YOU NEED TO GO HOME! I TOLD YOU I WAS HANDLING IT”

“I know but,” 

~~~~~The rest of the week you didn’t hear anything from both of them however the following week after you arrive to work, parking your car in its usual spot you get out of hear the infamous Rio speak causing you to spin around 

“BUT NOTHING GO HOME AND LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE!”

He got in his car and slammed the door before driving away.  

“What are you doing here?”

“Get in the car we need to talk” he’s calm like always.

“NO! I have to work!” you stand your ground

“Y/N, I wasn’t asking”

“I don’t care! Leave me alone!” 

“I have to work Rio!” Without saying anything he starts to walk over to you. “Okay, okay, I’ll get in” you walk past him quickly and hear huff leave his mouth before he opens the door for you, you slide into the seat, you watch as he gets in his seat. He doesn’t even look at you but you can tell he’s still vexed. Jaw is still tight with a firm grip on the steering wheel. You don’t say anything but look out the window as you drive to an unknown location in town. It was a warehouse. You take a deep breath expecting this to be your last memory. 

He removed his hands from his pockets, this time placing them in front of him, he squints a little looking at you before he decides to speak  “get in the car or I’m gonna come over there and put you in the car”

“I’m gonna scream!” you threaten

He takes a few steps forward, which only caused you to retreat back “I don’t give a fuck! GET IN THE CAR!” he says more sternly and you would be lying if that didn’t frighten you

He scoffs “I’m not gonna kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking” 

How did he always know what you were thinking? 

“How long is this gonna take?” you ask looking around

“You might as well say you can’t make it in today”

You quickly text your boss and your car problems evolve into a bigger issue thankfully she understands and you feel at ease for now. You walk closely behind him as you approach the warehouse you can hear the chatter as you approach the building, when you do step in you're surprised to see a restaurant. 

The smell of coffee and pancakes fill the place. The young girl seats you two by the kitchen. You look around in awe, you had no idea this place even existed.  The place had an open kitchen concept so you could see the chefs and cooks working their magic and if you chose you could sit by the counter and watch. 

“Hi Welcome to The Barnyard! How many?”

“Two” Rio answers

“Sure” you answer apprehensively 

“You’re waitress will be Alyssa she’ll be with you shortly”

“Thanks”

“Hungry?” he knew you didn’t eat breakfast 

You two order and eat not without saying anything to each other. Once you’re done he gets up and motions with his head for you to follow him. You walk towards the back past the kitchen, past the employee locker room/bathroom, take a turn into the backroom where the bus boys cleaned the dishes,  past the huge walk in freezer and stop in front of a door where Rio knocks. The guy opens immediately, the door was heavy, like one of those safe doors you see in banks. You take a glance at the man on the other side of the door,  he looks meaner and scarier than Mick you thought to yourself. You continue to walk down a few steps that seem to be taking you underground to another door where Rio knocks once again and the same door as upstairs, when you step in, you walk into what seems like a huge operation. Your eyes take it all in on one side there are people counting money on the other they’re bagging it. Not to mention what seemed like illicit drugs being packaged.  Rio takes a seat by the table and watches.You sit down next to him and try to absorb it all. He doesn’t say anything for what seems like forever. 

“You said you wanted to know what i did so here you go”

You turned to face him “why are you showing me all of this, now?” 4 months you dated this man and you thought he was a local drug dealer who made it big, this was cartel level operations 

“Things have changed, I might be wrong in my approach to keep you in the dark, and we need to talk,”  he removes his jacket and takes out his gun, placing it on the table “Krystal isn’t who you think she is,

“I know you told me that” 

“Remember when she kept handing you zip-lock bags at the school luncheon, yea they all got your fingerprints. Bags filled to the brim with coke and heroin. There's a few storage keys hidden in your house, the feds would find those too, it would lead them to a local storage where they would find more money and drugs, your fingerprints are on those too. I asked you to hold on to them for me.”

“Her name is Beth Boland, you are a front. But it’s much deeper than that,” with his fingers he makes quotation marks “ ‘Krystal’ and I have an operation we are business partners, ended up fucking, emotions got thrown in the mix. She put 3 bullets in me.”  He stops himself from, feeling like he’s getting carried away. “Anyway the feds started to question her connection to me, she got nervous, and came up with the plan of you, you would be my “girlfriend” while we continued to work and fuck.  If the Feds started to look deeper they would see that the only reason she would be around me is because of you. But you being my girl wasn’t enough so we decided to plant some evidence in your house”

“What?!” 

Your heart sinks

“You were going to be the fall guy and that would in turn get the feds off of her ass, my ass too for now at least” 

You knew you were a front but this, you didn’t think it would be this, how could you be so stupid. 

“But Beth ‘Krystal’  is becoming more of a problem, plus i can’t just over look my feelings for you” 

“What feelings? Why did you even? Feelings?”  

“I told you i didn't plan it!” irritation spewed out in his tone, but it was more so at himself than you “I care about you mama, you my girl” 

You think about all the times you spent together, the few sexcapades you had, you feel sick to think it was all just part of the process, he was just going through the motions, whose to say he isn’t now? Maybe things are taking too long and he’s waiting for you to hang yourself with this new information. 

“You can ask me whatever you want, I ain’t got shit to hide anymore, plus I figured its the least I can do” 

“When did you start feeling differently, towards me?”

“About 2 months in” 

2 months?! That's all it took was two lousy months, for him to ‘care’ about you? You knew you were naivety but how stupid did he think you were? 

You contemplate calling the cops, FBI, hell the FBI would believe you wouldn't they? They already knew about them you were an innocent party

“I can see you thinking, just know if you go to the cops, they’ll do an investigation and since majority of them are on my payroll they won’t find nothing on her, they’ll instead turn their attention to you, with all that coke and heroin in your home, you wont see the light of day ever again. So whatever you’re thinking just know if Beth goes down, I go down and I’m not gonna let that happen whether you like it or not.”  There’s that Grade A ‘CARE’ you say to yourself 

You nod and wipe your tears away

“But I’m working on it.” 

You scoff, what could he possibly be working on other than nailing the last nail in your coffin

“If i wasn’t trust me you would be in jail right now” 

You swallow hard. This was a lot to process. You want to ask what he’s working on to get the target off your back but you don’t all you can think of is how you were one call away from being thrown in federal prison on drug trafficking charges. 

He doesn't say anything else and for the rest of the time you are in that warehouse you sit quietly just absorbing everything that was happening. A few men stop by to talk to him but he doesn’t introduce you, you sit there listening to the conversation. Even if the feds were to interview you right now, you wouldn’t know what the conversation was about. It was in code and so vague that you couldn’t piece anything together.  By the time you leave it's getting dark and you wouldn’t even remember how to get there. He pulls up to your car parked in the parking deck at work and gets out the car to open the door for you. You wanted to hop out and run to your car but you're frozen. 

“Y/N” he calls to you bringing your attention back to him “i’m working on it, i just need you to trust me”

You nod in response feeling the tears threatening to fall you begin to walk away but he grabs your arm lightly pulling you back 

“Her and Mick are there weekly and Mick leaves things a certain way if you go looking he will know, she will know, I’m trying to fix it mama i just need time, i just need you to operate as usual”

“You can’t go searching for them or she’ll know”

You give him a confused look 

You pushed him away, pulling your arm from his grip “Okay” you were done with him for the day, being around him made you sick, he literally plotted your demise and for the most part didn’t care about you, until recently. 

When you arrive home you look around and before you can stop yourself you rush over to the bathroom and throw up. When you've calmed down from your panic attack you walk around your home afraid to touch anything feeling like you were in a ticking time bomb, afraid that would be the reason the feds rushed over to your place. 

A/N: As always please tell me what you think!