#covers her boot tip in a wooden cover

[caestusvulpes]

@standbowed asked:

hc + 🗡 for a weapon-themed headcanon

Hikari makes her own weaponry routinely-- since they're Stand-constructs, they can harm other Stands. She rarely uses it for that, though. Hikari is a fan of direct action, ie. fighting in-tandem with her Stand rather than having Mother Nature's Son fight exclusively on her behalf. Honestly, Stand users hardly expect any opponent to just pull a knife, (regular) gun, or baseball bat on them. It's really funny to also just walk up to someone while they're mid-monologue and just punch them in the throat, weapon or no weapon.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: Are You Always Like This?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Implied/Eventual), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Fake Dating

Word Count: 7.4 K (OOPS)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+/Mature because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, violence. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I know, I should be working on "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," but this idea was swirling around in my head and I had to write it.

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

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

"Alright Butcher, I'm done." You sigh closing the file in front of you and standing from the worn wooden table covered in empty Chinese food containers and stacks of papers almost as tall as you. "If I read another word about trying to stop an electrical current, I'm going to commit toaster bath and I'm taking you with me."

It was late, past two in the morning, but Butcher had a lead on a B-list supe that had been using his electrical powers to steal cars and run a chop shop business downtown. You had been close to catching him yesterday, so close in fact that your eyebrows were still a little crispy from when he shot a bolt of lightning at your face that you only dodged in the nick of time when Soldier Boy grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you out of the way. Unfortunately, your shirt hadn't survived, it had ripped and you spent the rest of the day wearing one of Butcher's oversize Hawaiian shirts all the while Soldier Boy told you that it was a waste to keep a pretty little figure like yours covered up.

I hate him so much.

When Butcher had initially asked you to join his team a month ago you were excited, but then you found out that you were going to be stuck with Soldier Boy. The supe, that despite Annie's arguments should be given back to the government and put on ice, was allowed to join Butcher's team after he took down Homelander. Who was currently frozen on ice, somewhere. As long as Homelander was far from you, you didn't care. The guy gave you the creeps.

But the team still couldn't figure out where the electricity manipulating supe was hiding or where he was dropping the cars, which meant you had spent the past twelve hours staring at files and a computer screen so hard that you felt like your brain going to melt out of your ears.

"Do whatever ya want kid. I'm not ya damn babysitter." Butcher grunts, his face hidden behind his own file. His boots were on the table and he was leaning back in his chair so far that you were tempted to tip him over, all it would take was a good solid kick.

You smile at him. Butcher was adept at pretending that he didn't want you around, of course you knew how antsy he got when you weren't there to offer your opinion. You figured that he just liked pushing people away and given his history you understood that.

Annie sits up from where she and Hughie are cuddling on the couch. "Why don't you stay?" Her brow furrows with worry. Annie was big on the whole, "women not walking at home alone at night thing," which normally you didn't, but you figured that whatever was waiting outside the apartment was probably less intimidating than Homelander. And you could handle it.

"Because I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight and not that godforsaken rickety cot in the corner that Frenchie got. Can't stand that one spring that always seems so happy to see me." You pull your leather jacket off of the back of the chair and whirl it around your shoulders, before bringing your hair out from under the collar.

Hughie snorts.

"Hey, that cot is an antique!" Frenchie crows from his highbacked chair spewing a mouthful of smoke into the air. Kimiko was sitting at the coffee table in front of him working on her writing, a thick black marker clutched in her hand. MM was taking the night off, but you thought he was probably trying to avoid Soldier Boy.

"Yeah well, that cot is about as old as grandpa over there." You gesture to where Soldier Boy is sitting in another one of the armchairs in the corner watching you while puffing on a joint.

He was always watching you and due to your inability to read his mind it made it difficult for you to gauge what he was thinking, but you assumed that it was the usual macho crap he spouted 100% of the time. But he wasn't checking you out, well this time he wasn't. You had caught him staring at your butt more than once, and he'd made several comments about exactly what he'd like to do to you, but right now an emotion glimmered behind his eyes that you couldn't place.

Soldier Boy stands from the chair. He was wearing a dark t-shirt that stretched over his chest and a pair of blue jeans that fit him just right, well, if you were looking at that. You were, but it was easier to pretend that you weren't. It was easier to pretend that he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen in your life.

Damn it, why does someone so attractive have to be such a dick?

 "A lady like you shouldn't be walking home alone this late." He frowns at you.

"Like me?" You arch an eyebrow.

"Good thing she ain't a lady." Butcher chuckles at his joke

You punch him hard on the arm, not enough to break it, but enough to make it hurt.

“Bloody hell woman.” Butcher rubs his sore bicep shooting you an angry look.

Not many people could look intimidating while wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but Butcher pulled it off. Not many people looked good in a Hawaiian shirt either, but Butcher pulled that off too.

"I'm serious." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow.

"Oh now you're so chivalrous?" You cock your hip to the side, planting your hands on your hips. "Didn't you try to kill me last month?"

"To be fair, you were trying to kill me-"

"Because you were trying to kill Annie. Where was the chivalry when you tried to tear me apart with your bare hands?"

"There are plenty of other things I'd like to do to you with my bare hands sweetheart." His grin turns wolfish. "I'd be happy to show you sometime, perhaps you'd like some company?"

"I'd rather spend an hour with that ancient spring than roll around with you." You tap your lip thoughtfully. “Then again I’m sure that cot is the same age as you and it can at least get it up.”

Annie muffles a snort behind her hand.

“Last time I checked everything was working, perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?” Soldier Boy smirks.

 "Can't you keep in your pants for once?" Butcher sighs, tilting the file downward to glare at Soldier Boy.

You can't help but smile at Butcher's response. Butcher might have tried to push you away, but even you could see his protective instincts. That became wildly apparent whenever you went out on a mission alone and although you would think that it was annoying for someone to think they needed to protect you, in Butcher's case you made an exception.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes. "She shouldn't walk home alone."

You wave your hand over the wilting fern on the kitchen counter, eyes shifting to green for a moment as it perks up. It was the only plant in the house and although six people lived in this apartment, not one ever remembered to water it. "And you shouldn't butt into my business."

Soldier Boy opens his mouth to speak, but Annie interrupts his train of thought.

"Wait y/n. Coffee tomorrow?" Annie asks ignoring them. She's sitting up from the couch, her body turned towards you with both of her hands on the back cushions. 

She was one of your best friends, well, really one of your only friends. You'd grown up together and when Annie moved to New York you had decided to move and take some college classes in the city while you worked at a small garden shop after class part time.

The owner still couldn't figure out why nothing you cared for seemed to die.

You usually kept your status as a supe on the down low, and only used your powers when you really had to, which wasn't often before you joined Butcher's team. You'd only lasted two semesters before Annie came to ask you for help finding Soldier Boy and after that, Butcher asked you to join his team for shit pay. You accepted but you still worked at the garden shop part-time, also for terrible pay, but you loved it there.

Your powers made it easy to make sure nothing died and sometimes it felt like home being surrounded by plants. Caring for them was the one thing you seemed to be good at, and sometimes they felt like family.

You didn't have much family left, beside your grandmother and your older brother who still lived back in Des Moines, and sometimes it was lonely in the city. Annie was the only person who you'd been able to connect with since you moved, and now that you weren't going to classes the friends you made in college didn't really understand what you were doing with your life.

And telling them "oh I hunt down supes for a living and sometimes kill them" didn't really sound like something you could say in passing. It also did wonders for your dating life… NOT.

"Sorry babe, I'm at the shop tomorrow. But I'm off at 3 if you want to get coffee after?" You hold open the front door of the apartment, looking back at her expectantly.

You hated blowing Annie off, especially since the two of you hadn't been able to hang out outside of missions mostly because she was spending all her time with Hughie.

"Sounds great!" She beams.

And with that you disappear out down the hallway and into the night.

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

It's raining as you walk down the desolate streets. Cars splash water over the gum covered sidewalks that soaks through your tennis shoes and makes every step against the ground squish. But you ignore it.

You usually loved when it rained, loved to feel the cooling water pool against your skin, loved to hear the soft patter of it against the windows of your apartment, loved the earthy smell that came with the drops, but not tonight. You were still thinking about Soldier Boy.

You don't know why you let him get under your skin so much. You'd met men like him in the past and it was usually easy for you to brush them off, but not him.

I mean yes he is gorgeous, and maybe kind of charming when he's not trying to get into my pants, but I don't want just a one night fling. I want what Annie and Hughie have.

You think about your best friend and her loving boyfriend. You tried not to be jealous, but it was hard when the last time you had a lasting relationship was your first boyfriend back in high school who, when he found out you were a supe, was only interested if you had the power to shape shift into someone 'a little more busty.' The relationship ended with you locking him in a tree and the fire department having to come cut him out. He was fine, maybe a little more green than a normal person, but...

You'd heard that he got a job from the Green Giant Vegetable Company doing cameos as the Jolly Green Giant. So if anything, you helped him have a career?

Annie and Hughie were both head over heels in love with each other, knew everything about each other, didn't have any secrets, and it wasn't just sex, it was a close relationship with someone else who understood every part of you. You wanted that; and as much as you had avoided relationships in the past due to your supe status, you still hoped to find a supe that was kind and didn't think that they were a god for what they could do.

Why do so many have a god complex?

You think again about Soldier Boy. That wasn't the first time he had tried to coax you into bed and it wouldn't be the last, that was for sure. At first you had hoped that he would give up, it had been a month since you'd met, but he was still going strong, despite having a different woman in that apartment almost every night.

Maybe he's just really horny after being trapped in a lab all these years. Then again- You remember all the articles you read about him from the 80s, the ones that recorded his numerous escapades and think about his founding of Herogasm.

Maybe he's always like that, but he never comes on to Annie or Kimiko, only me. And I've threatened castration multiple times. You'd think he would care more about that than anything else.

You consider with a frown, clutching your jacket tighter around you. Rain trickled down from your hair and under the collar of your jacket to soak into your t-shirt. Your once light blue jeans were soaked to a dark navy with the amount of water that splashed up from the road and dripped down your back. For the first time in forever, you wished that it wasn't raining.

Probably should have just gotten a cab, but it's so expensive and-

"Hey baby." Someone calls from behind you.

Can't I just walk home without being hit on? One time?

"Not interested." You shout back, continuing to squish down the cracked sidewalks.

Three shadows peel off the wall of shops to your left blocking your path forward. Each is wearing a dark colored hoodie hiding their faces from view.

Is my luck really this bad? I never hear about Annie getting mugged or Hughie. And Hughie definitely looks wimpier than me.

"Don't be like that baby." The man behind you says.

You half turn your body so you can see all your supposed attackers at once. There are actually two men behind you, both wearing similar hoodies to the three now standing on your right.

Oh look they color coordinated their outfits… cute.

The man opens his mouth again.

"I'm gonna stop you right there." You hold up a finger. "I've been dealing with a horny 104 year old  geriatric man all day long. Please don't push me right now." It was an attempt to warn them, but you knew they probably wouldn’t listen to you.

No one ever does.

"Sounds like you need someone to relax with." The man smirks steeping forward to grab your arm. "I'd be happy to ease some of that tension baby."

"Look. I'm going to give you a chance to walk away. To avoid making one of the biggest mistakes of your life. Because honestly you all have the worst luck in the world." You jerk your arm away from him.

"I like em feisty.” He purrs stepping forward again while the others laugh. “Come on baby-“

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You grab him around the throat, lifting him in the air like he weighs nothing, your eyes beginning to glow a brilliant green.

“I did try to warn you.”

"She's a supe!" He shouts struggling against your grip.

You throw him backwards into the other man standing to your right before facing the men on your left. Each one has pulled out a knife preparing to rush towards you.

"I get it. Y’all are out late, you bought matching outfits, but do we really have to-“

The first one rushes you, waving his knife through the air in a frantic dance. He doesn't get the chance to make contact with your arm. Vines erupt out of the pavement, breaking through the cracks in the concrete, binding themselves around the man who lets out a savage cry, quickly silenced while the vines continue to wrap around his body until there's nothing left but a mass of struggling green foliage on the pavement and some muffled screams.

He's lucky, could have had him dragged back under ground.

His friends stand there for a moment, eyeing one another as if they're not sure what just happened. You can practically see them trying to decide if you're still worth the trouble.

“Anyone else?”

The battle that follows is swift, the sound of cracking bones and the soft thud of punches landing echo over the soft patter of rain in the night as you dodge their blows and land your own against them. The vines continue to spread outward snatching up the men who fall to the ground in front of you, dragging each one up the street light above that sends yellowed light over the desolate streets. By now each bound body hangs from above like a sack of meat in a meat cooler, moving with the struggling men inside while the muffled cries shatter the still silence of the night.

Sometimes it's really too easy.

And as you begin to turn back someone grabs you by the hair, yanking you into their sweaty embrace. The leader's hot breath sticks to your cheeks, the cool metal of his switchblade pressing down so hard on your throat that you feel the pinprick of blood begin to form under the tip.

“What are you gonna do now bitch?” He snarls in your ear.

"Give you one more chance to surrender." You spit.

Like I'm going to give him the satisfaction of me begging for my life.

"I'm gonna enjoy this-" The man begins to say, pressing the knife deeper into your throat, but the rest of his sentence is cut off with a strangled cry as he's pulled away from you.

 What the hell just-

You turn around, freezing in shock.

Soldier Boy is crouching there in his t-shirt, jacket, and jeans over the man who just had a knife to your throat. His fist rising and falling as he punches the man in the face.

"Don’t you ever touch her." Soldier Boy snarls. His fist is already covered in blood, the man’s face a mass of bloodied tissue and bone.

"Stop you're going to kill him-" You run forward to stop Soldier Boy, but he doesn't stop even when you try to grab on to his hand.

"I said STOP." You shout louder, this time manipulating a vine to wrap around Soldier Boy's arm and restrain it.

Fuck he might already be dead.

"Let me go." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow. The usual green was replaced by a darkened pit with his rage. You'd only ever seen him this mad a handful of times, one of which was when the supe tried to zap you like a fly in one of those insect traps two days ago.

Why is he angry?

"I'm not going to let you go, until you promise not to kill him."

"I should." He snarls back at you.

"What are you talking about?"

He stands from the body, eyeing the last attacker who runs full speed down the sidewalk and vanishes into the darkness.   "I should kill him for trying to hurt you." Soldier Boy says simply.

You wave your hand allowing the vine to let go of his arm. "Where do you come off so high and mighty? You literally tried to kill me last month."

"That was before I-" He shakes his head angrily, eyes still blazing.

"Look I don't need you to protect me. Given what I've had to deal with all day I was looking forward to kicking some ass."

"You did." He smirks nodding his head in the direction of the men hanging from the streetlamp above you. “I just thought that you were outnumbered.”

"Why are you here?" You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I wanted to go for a stroll." Soldier Boy shrugs. He flexes his hand, before wiping the blood on the front of the sweatshirt of the man on the ground.

"Uh-huh. Well I don't need you to protect me." You say again, crossing your arms over your chest. "I had this handled."

"You sure doll?"

"Look I get it- you think that you're some knight in shining armor because you have this macho complex. But I'm fine on my own." You begin to step around the bodies of the men on the ground moving in the direction of your apartment, but Soldier Boy follows you.

"Where do you think you're going?" You turn to look at where he falls into step beside you.

"You shouldn't be walking home alone."

"Well you're sure as hell not going home with me."

His lip turns up in a smirk, towering over you. Soldier Boy is easily a foot taller than you, so broad that it's impossible to look past his imposing figure. It would be attractive if he wasn't so damn annoying. "Come on sweetheart, I know you want me to go home with you." He purrs with a smile. "I think you'd really enjoy it if I did. And I'll even let you tie me up with those pretty vines of yours." Ben leans in towards your face and you take a step back.

"Hard pass. So what? Is this your big move? Acting all chivalrous just to get a woman into bed with you?"

"That depends, is it working?"

"No. Now go back to the apartment, before I send you there in pieces." You turn back to squish down the sidewalk at a faster pace, hoping he will get a hint and leave you alone. But you knew he wouldn’t stop. He practically thrived on teasing you, had been the bane of your existence since you met him. And nothing seemed to dissuade him.

"What is your problem with me?" He jogs to catch up. "And don't say that it's because I tried to kill you, that was last month-"

"I think that's applicable to this week and the week after that and the week after that." You count out with every finger to further emphasize your point, but you know that Soldier Boy won't give up that easy.

"Are you always this fucking angry?" He almost laughs.

"I don’t know. Are you always this fucking annoying?" You turn to face him narrowing your eyes.

Soldier Boy chuckles at your look, running a hand through his hair that has darkened in the spray of water, his green eyes watching you curiously. They were shinning now, not the blacked pits of hate they were when he was beating the guy two minutes ago. For a second, just for a second, you see how handsome he is all over again.

"Come on, give me a real answer and I'll leave you alone." He's smiling at you now, giving you one of those boyish grins that, if it were anyone else, would make your heart stop.

He just wants sex. He doesn't care about you. He won't ever care about you. Breathe.

"Fine." You sigh. "You might say you're a supe, but you're not a hero. People like you and Homelander, you don't care about anyone but yourself. You use your powers for you and on your own terms. You were going to kill that guy-" You gesture back towards where the body is still on the ground, the man's heart beat is dangerously low.

"He was threatening you. A thank you might be nice." Soldier Boy's cheeks flush as he glares down at you with darkened eyes, his anger surging back in his chest.

"Yes he was threatening me, but I'm okay and you could have just taken him to jail. You didn't have to beat his face in."

"So you're saying if he had been attacking someone else you wouldn't have done the same?"

"I would have subdued him and then waited for the police to get there. The men hanging from the streetlight aren't dead. We aren't the law-"

"Right so those guys can get off with a warning and then go on and do the same thing over and over again." He scoffs rolling his eyes at you.

"It doesn't give you the right to kill them."

"I suppose you don't believe in the death penalty either."

"I believe in the death penalty Gramps. I just don't believe it is our job to carry it out." Your temper was flaring against your skin distracting you from the chill of the rain as it soaked into your clothes.

"Do you have any idea how many women would love to be saved by me?" Soldier Boy asks. He shakes his head as if he can't understand you.

You didn't blame him, most people didn't, that was why you spent most of your time alone.

"I'm not one of them. So leave me alone." You turn to go.

Honestly, why is this the kind of guy I attract? You roll your eyes to yourself. Oh you mean, tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous- The other little voice in your head whispers in your ear. NO. You tell yourself. Please I just want one guy who's not a total dick. Why is that so hard?

"I still don't think it's a good answer." He huffs.

"Of course you don't." You roll your eyes and begin to walk again. The streetlamps above send an eerie yellow glow over the parked cars along the road and over the crackled pavement. If Soldier Boy wasn't here bothering you, you might have stopped to admire the water as it splashed underneath the suspension bridge beyond the crowded buildings, but you wanted to get home. Without him if possible.

You glance over at Soldier Boy again. He looks normal right now, always does when he's not wearing his suit. And when he shut up you could see why people were so in love with him. It was when he opened his mouth that it reminded you exactly why you didn't like him.

You stop in front of your apartment building and force yourself to smile. "Thank you for walking me home." You say through tight lips, hoping that the false sincerity will make him leave.

He gazes up at your building with a frown. "This is a pretty shitty apartment building."

"Thank you. Not all of us inherited millions of dollars from our parents."

He pauses for a moment continuing to look up at the building, before he sighs loudly. "Look, I-." He sighs again. "I can't take listening to Annie and Hughie fucking. They go at it every night and she always makes the power go off."

You knew that already. It was another reason why you didn't like staying at the apartment, because listening to your best friend get railed by her boyfriend was not your idea of a good time.

You look up at Ben, and for a second you see a glimmer of the truth, just a flash of something that wasn't like the misogynistic attitude he usually had and it made you pause. He almost looked, sad and it made you feel bad for him. Of course you felt bad for him before, when you found out his entire team just gave him away to be experimented on and when probably the woman that he'd come the closest to loving really didn't care about him at all.

It must be incredibly lonely to come back to a world where almost everyone you know is dead. Guilt builds in your chest at the thought. I had lost my fair share of people, but not everyone in my life and I certainly didn’t learn about it on the same day.

"You know I think that's the first honest thing you've ever said to me." You say quietly shifting from foot to foot.

He half-smiles. "Maybe."

You chew on the inside of your cheek considering. You weren't afraid of him. You knew that with your powers you could take him. You were stronger than most and harder to kill. And despite the bad things you thought about him and knew about him, you kinda thought he was relatively harmless, well, you didn't think he was a rapist.

"Fine. But you're staying on the couch. And if I wake up and you're anywhere near my bedroom, I'll castrate you." You warn as walk up to the front doors and type in the code to unlock them, with Soldier Boy following behind you.

When you make it to the third floor, you raise one hand to stop him from going any further. It falls against his muscular chest and you fail trying not to admire how it feels beneath your hand.

Why am I so thirsty?

"If you wanted to grab my chest doll, all you had to do was ask-" Soldier Boy begins to say, but you raise the hand to cover his mouth.

"Shh." You hiss. "We have to be quiet or Mike will come out-"

"Who?" He asks, muffled against your hand.

You hear a door down the hallway creak open, spilling yellowed light onto the dark blue carpet of the hallway. "Shit. Too late."

Mike steps out of his apartment with a wide smile as soon as he sees you. "HEY y/n!" He crows, waving his free hand enthusiastically. "I didn't know you were getting in so late, but I wanted to give you this." Mike holds out a giant casserole dish filled with something that you can't identify. It's multi colored with multiple layers, one of which looks suspiciously like rice and the next layer looks like cake.

There's no way I'm eating that. Maybe if I force feed it to Soldier Boy he'll leave me alone.

Mike was your neighbor, your neighbor who had lived next door to you for the past 2 years and was shamelessly in love with you. And as sweet as he was, there were a few things that you couldn't get past, most namely that he lived with his mother and that he had a mullet.

One time you'd had a nightmare about it ripping itself from his head, breaking in to your apartment, and smothering you in your sleep.

Not fun.

"Hey Mike." You smile tightly at him, dropping your hand from Soldier Boy's mouth. "Yeah I'm sorry I was out with some friends."

"You should have asked me to come! I love your friends." Mike smiles so wide you're afraid that it's going to break his face. “Especially Butcher. He’s so funny. Always joking-"

Poor Mike.

Every time that Butcher had come over to talk shop, he would mock Mike endlessly. And Mike was just too sweet to realize it. Hughie was the only one who actively tried to be nice to Mike, but even he found it difficult. Annie was the worst though, she'd tease you constantly about what your children would look like and had taken to photoshopping mullets onto pictures of babies and sending them to you at inopportune times.

"Maybe next time." You cough out an awkward laugh while Soldier Boy snorts behind you.

You continue down the hallway towards your apartment, the door next to his, and hope that he'll go back into his home, but no such luck.

“My mom made this for you!” He holds the dish out towards you.

“Oh um that’s so nice of her. But I can’t except that-“

Mike's mother comes to stand in the doorway of their shared apartment. She was wearing a bright purple Mumu, her makeup caked thickly on her face and her eyes accentuated with bright blue eye shadow. “Sure you can sweetie. You’re Mike’s special friend.” She winks before trailing her eyes up and down your body. “And you’ve got such a cute little figure.” His mother does a little shimmy as if trying to get you to do the same.

Kill me now.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Soldier Boy purrs behind you.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You mutter back, knowing full well he can hear you with his super-hearing.

Oddly enough Mike does look suspiciously like his mother, they are both the same height, exactly three inches under you, and have the same mullet, but hers is a shocking blue-gray and his is jet black.

He blushes at her words. “Aww mom.”

Soldier Boy muffles a laugh before disguising it into a cough. You elbow him hard in the stomach.

“Well thank you.” You take the casserole dish with one hand, hoping that you can open the door and usher Soldier Boy in before he makes a comment. "I've had a long day and it's really late-"

“I helped her make this one.” Mike interrupts scooting closer to you, so close that you get a lungful of his terrible cologne, the one that the super sells for four dollars and smells like baby powder and Cheez-its.

“A man who can do it all.” Soldier Boy whispers to you.

Mike looks above your head as if noticing Soldier Boy for the first time. “Who’s that? I thought I knew all your friends.”

“He’s certainly very handsome-“ Mike's mother blushes from the doorway.

“Your brother?” Mike offers.

You can see his expression turn hopeful.

Probably thinking about how he can become friends with "said brother" and that will escalate our "relationship." 

“I’m Ben.” Soldier Boy says, stepping around you to shake Mike’s hand. “I’m y/n's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks bloom a bright pink, unable to respond to the ridiculous statement that he just made.

Murder. That's what sounds good right now.

“Oh.” Mike’s face falls. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” His eyes flick back to you, disappointment swimming in the irises.

You watch Mike’s hope begin to circle the drain.

“Well actually-“ You begin, but Soldier Boy interrupts you.

“Sorry I’ve been out of town for a while. We've been trying to do this long distance thing- you know how it is, late night phone calls-“ Ben trails off with a wolfish grin before dropping an arm around your shoulders. “But I just couldn’t take the long distance. Missed her too much. Phone call isn’t the same as sleeping in the same bed. Definitely not as satisfying. Not to mention there’s only so much my hand can do.”

Your cheeks bloom an even brighter red at his insinuation.  That’s when Soldier Boy does something even more unforgivable, he pulls you tighter against him and kisses you right there in front of Mike and his mother. The kiss is searing, making everything in your mind go blissfully blank. It had been so long since someone kissed you, since someone had held you this close to them without trying to kill you. His tongue teases your bottom lip and before you can stop yourself you open your mouth wider to let him in sighing softly against his lips, while you grip the front of his jacket.

For a moment you can’t remember why you didn’t want him to kiss you, why you denied yourself of this for so long. And then Soldier Boy's hand slides from your back to grab a handful of your ass.

Right.

You slap him so hard across the face that you're sure it would have broken the cheekbone of anyone who wasn’t a supe.

But Soldier Boy only grins wider, squeezing your butt again. “She knows that I like it a little rough.” He turns his lazy gaze back to Mike.

You open your mouth to cuss him out.

“Well we should probably get going.” Soldier Boy breezes. “Probably going to be a long night. If you know what I mean. But we’ll try to keep it down. Then again my girl's a little loud.” He winks at your poor neighbor who looks like he might cry, while his mother stands behind him fanning herself like Soldier Boy is everything she wants in a man.

He's ten for ten with the older ladies I'll say that.

“Oh right. Well I guess I’ll see you around y/n.” Mike turns to go.

“Mike wait-“ You try to say but he’s already vanishing through the door.

“Nice to meet you Mark.” Soldier Boy calls at his retreating figure, getting his name wrong on purpose.

You don’t even use your key to open the door you're so mad, the plants inside let you in. As soon as it opens, you haul Soldier Boy by the front of his jacket through the doorway and pin him to the wall just inside.

The casserole dish lands on your counter and by some miracle doesn’t break.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your hand is fisted in the front of his shirt, eyes blazing with anger and embarrassment.

He only grins. “You didn’t want me to play along? Sounded like that guy had been trying to get into your pants for a while. Unless he already has been or you want him to?"

You flush a deeper shade of crimson. "That is absolutely none of your business!"

“Well if we’re going to be living together doll, I’m pretty sure it is my business.”

“WE AREN'T LIVING TOGETHER I'M JUST LETTING YOU CRASH ON THE COUCH TONIGHT AND THEN YOU'RE GONE.” You shout.

“I think you’re gonna get pretty attached to me sleeping here. Maybe even  you let me sleep in your bed and even fu-“

You knock him back against the wall again. “If you finish that sentence I’m going to throw you out the window.”

“If you keep knocking me around, Mike's going to think you’re into some pretty kinky stuff.” Soldier Boy smirks down at you. “It’s actually turning me on a bit. Is it turning you on?”

“I don’t have to let you stay here.” You growl, releasing him.

“I think it’s because you like me.” He teases.

“I don’t.” You frown grows. “Okay couch is there goodnight.”

You point in the direction of the worn leather couch. You'd hauled it up three flights of stairs with Annie when you first moved in after you found a guy online selling it for nothing. And when you showed up to get it, he presumed to say it would be free if you let him take a picture of your feet. And after, when he had a black eye and a fun story to tell his wife, he gave you the couch for nothing as promised.

“No kiss goodnight?” Soldier Boy pouts his lips innocently.

“You already had one of those.” You snap thinking about slapping him again and trying hard not to think about how much you wanted to kiss him again.

Get a grip.

“Right. You liked it.”

“No I didn’t. And the next time you shove your tongue into my mouth I’ll bite it off.”

“You’re really violent for such a little thing.” Soldier Boy eyes you up and down as if sizing you up.

“And you’re really dick-like for someone who’s supposed to have the wisdom of the ages.” You turn towards the hallway intent on going to bed to avoid any more conversation with him.

"Whoa." You hear Soldier Boy say as he looks into your living room.

It was the reaction that everyone had when they entered your apartment. You had a small one bedroom apartment on the third floor of a building that you believed might be older than Soldier Boy. The kitchen and living room was mostly one room, the kitchen to the left with outdated appliances and a small circular wooden table with three chairs that served as your kitchen table and desk, and was separated by the large leather aforementioned couch that faced the wall that held two large windows. Beyond the front door was a small hallway that held the only bathroom in the apartment and your bedroom.

But that's not what was surprising.

Every open space in your apartment was covered in plants. There wasn't a single piece of unused space in your apartment. There were large standing monstera and fiddle leaf figs shoved into every corner and pots of dark green pothos bolted into the walls trailing vines to the ground so that every wall looked alive. Jasmine crept along the wall behind the tv that sat on an antique credenza between the two windows, sending the bright scent into the living room.

There was a large rectangular box bolted in the space above your sink where herbs and tomatoes hung down, probably a fire hazard, but you didn't care. The vibrant smell of mint, the spicy smell of rosemary, and soft tones of oregano and basil fused the air in your apartment with a life force that was impossible to ignore.

A large apple tree grew in a pot as big around as you next to the couch, with brilliant red apples hanging from it's branches, while a lemon tree and a tangerine tree intertwined their branches just behind the kitchen table.  The refrigerator, once white, was covered in the tangled vines of blackberry and raspberry, hanging with full fruit, while a potted strawberry plant sits prettily on top of the kitchen table, the bright red fruit enticing.

It was a lot. You knew it was a lot, but helping plants grow was the only thing you were good at, the only thing that felt right. One day you hoped that you could move somewhere and open a farmers market, but today you were stuck here, with Soldier Boy, who probably thought that you were crazy.

"I mean. I knew you had plant powers but this is-" He begins to say.

"A lot. I know." You roll your eyes. "The bathroom is down the hall." You gesture with your free hand towards the darkened hallway. "I guess I'll get you a pillow."

Ben is still looking around the room dumbfounded, as if he's never seen anything like this in his life, and he probably hasn't.

He's been in a Russian Lab for the past forty years, I mean he's probably not used to seeing anything this green.

You find the extra pillow in the linen closet along with one of the crocheted granny square blankets you made last year when Annie and you had a Jaws movie marathon, and a towel, before you move back into the living room.

Ben is still standing awkwardly by the couch as if he's not sure what to do, and it's the first time you've seen him look lost.

"Here." You throw him the pillow and the towel before you drape the blanket over the back of the couch. "One night."

"Why are you working for Butcher?"

"What?" The question catches you off guard. You were expecting him to make another pass at you, maybe check you out again. He was looking at you, but it was different, his gaze was softer, curious.

"You don't seem like you-" He gestures around the room. "Like you fit."

You blink for a second. "Um."

"I mean Annie used to be one of the Seven, Hughie does whatever the fuck Butcher tells him, but you you're different." His brow furrows together as if he can't figure you out.

"I really don't want to do this with you."

"This?" He looks confused again.

"Opening up with one another. You're here for one night. That's it." You force yourself to say, but the reality was you were still surprised, surprised that he actually seemed to care.

Stop. He's changing tactics because nothing else worked. He's pretending to care about you because he still wants to sleep with you.

"Please."

You can't answer for a second. It was the first time that he'd said that word in front of you before, or acted this way. It was also the first time that it had just been the two of you, before Butcher had been there or Frenchie or Annie and Hughie, but this was the first time that the two of you had been left alone.

Maybe that's why?

You hesitate before you answer, he was the last person you really wanted to open up to.

"I don't know, it's not all that bad." You shrug. "Before I didn't really use my powers all that much except like this." You gesture around the room for emphasis. "And when I went to college everyone was so serious about their futures and I didn't really like any of the classes. The only thing I enjoyed was using my powers at Please Don’t Die, the plant store I work at. And then Annie asked me to come help her out-" You bite your cheek. "She's my best friend and maybe I wanted to spend more time with her."

"But is it what you really want?" He cocks his head to the side, holding the pillow in one hand and the towel in the other.

You'd never seen him look so calm before, relaxed, like being here with you was washing away any anger or frustration he still had about the past. It was confusing, and at the same time you could feel your heart beginning to betray you. It was hard not to fall for him when he looked so good, eyes soft, dark hair falling into his eyes, clothes still dripping rain on your hardwood floors.

No. I will not fall in love with him, I will not fall in love with-

"Goodnight Soldier Boy. I'll see you in the morning." You turn to go, ignoring his final question.

"You can call me Ben." He almost whispers it, the sound of his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.

"What?" You look back at him.

"You never call me Ben. But you can, if you want." He shrugs his shoulders, before he shakes his head as if he's annoyed with himself for suggesting it. "Never mind, just fucking forget about it-"

"Goodnight Ben." You feel the end of your mouth twitch up into a smile and with that you disappear into your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

And deep down you know that it's not to keep him out, but to keep you in.

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

As always, thank you so much for reading!

If you liked this story be sure to read my follow up fic that takes place in the future:

Open Mic Night!

Or if you'd like to read another series please try:

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

A/N: I know it's crazy to start another series right now, but I'm kinda feeling this reader and Ben together? What do y'all think about it?

A/N: Update I've made a huge mistake and started another series.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

(Photos for series picture from Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[joelsrose]

Howdy Cowboy

I am crazy but I am free - I need to study but can’t stop writing for my pookies

No warnings just tension and teasing and !hotcowboyJoel, reader is in her early/mid 20sss

You sighed, giving yourself one last look in the mirror, running a hand down your sides, smoothing out the simple black mini dress that clung to your skin. Paired with a pair of old cowboy boots you’d dusted off from the back of your closet, the outfit wasn’t exactly your usual style. But tonight wasn’t about you—it was Sarah’s birthday, and she had been planning this cowboy-themed party for months, insisting on holding it at the local rodeo bar. She hadn’t stopped talking about riding the mechanical bull, her excitement practically contagious.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as you thought of Sarah—her curls bouncing, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she finally got her moment on the mechanical bull. But even with all that anticipation, it wasn’t what had your heart racing the most.

It was Joel.

The second his name crossed your mind, a wave of butterflies exploded in your stomach, making you feel both giddy and a little breathless. The theme was cowboy, which meant Joel would definitely be in something dangerously fitting. Your mind drifted—what if he wore those perfectly worn jeans that sat just right on his hips, a cowboy hat tipped low over those deep brown eyes of his, maybe even an old shirt clinging to his chest in that way that made you look twice?

You could almost picture it—Joel walking into the bar, the dim light hitting him just right, his easy smile and that slow, purposeful stride making your heart skip a beat. It made you feel like a teenager with a crush all over again, the kind that leaves you breathless and flushed, and completely unsure what to do with yourself.

The thought of seeing him tonight, in the soft glow of the bar lights, dressed like that—it made your pulse quicken.

•••

You felt a flutter of nerves as you stepped inside, the buzz of energy from the bar wrapping around you. The dim lighting cast a warm, golden hue over the rustic wooden beams, making the place feel both intimate and alive. For Sarah’s birthday, the bar had been completely transformed—twinkling string lights hanging from the ceiling, a sea of cowboy hats and boots filling the room like something straight out of her dreams. Laughter rang out from every corner, the soft twang of country music humming in the background, setting the perfect tone for the night. It was exactly the kind of celebration Sarah had always envisioned, and a quiet thrill of excitement stirred in your chest, knowing how much this moment meant to her.

Spotting Sarah wasn’t hard; she stood near the mechanical bull, already in full party mode. Her wild curls framed her glowing face, and she was dressed to perfection—a denim mini skirt, a fitted white top, and, of course, the pièce de résistance: a rhinestone-covered cowboy hat perched on her head, catching the light with every move. A Birthday Girl sash draped across her chest, sparkling just as brightly. You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head at how perfectly Sarah she looked—radiant, confident, and completely in her element.

“Hey!” Sarah squealed the moment she spotted you, throwing her arms around you in a hug that radiated pure excitement. "You made it!"

"Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world," you grinned, pulling back to take in her outfit. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Sarah’s face lit up even more, and she gave a little twirl, the rhinestones on her hat sparkling with every movement. "Thanks! Feelin’ like a proper cowgirl tonight," she winked, her energy infectious. "Now, go get yourself a drink from the bar and hurry back—I’ve got big plans for us!" she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You turned to move towards the bar, and that’s when you saw him—leaning casually against the wooden counter, drink in hand, the rim of his cowboy hat casting just enough shadow to hide his dark eyes. Joel. The breath hitched in your throat as your gaze settled on him. He looked even better than you had imagined—broad shoulders filling out his worn, flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms, strong and lightly scarred from years of hard work, flexing subtly as he lifted the glass to his lips. His faded jeans hung low on his hips, the belt buckle glinting under the dim bar lights, and that damn cowboy hat perched perfectly on his head, tipping ever so slightly forward as he brought the glass to his lips.

Your heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing to just him in that instant. Most men would look ridiculous dressed like that, a caricature of what a cowboy should be. But Joel? The way he wore it, the way he owned the look, made you think all kinds of unholy things. You scolded yourself for how easily the blush crept up your cheeks, painting you crimson in a way only he knew how to. It was ridiculous how just the sight of him made you feel like a teenager again. You’d seen him countless times before, but tonight, bathed in the golden glow of string lights, with the brim of his hat casting shadows over his sharp features, Joel looked every bit the rugged cowboy from your wildest daydreams—strong, untamed, and lighting a fire deep inside you that you couldn’t ignore.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you made your way to the bar, your heart pounding a little faster with each step. Joel hadn’t spotted you yet, his focus seemingly on the drink in his hand, his body leaned casually against the counter as he spoke to the person beside him. The closer you got, the more the nerves started to build. You could practically feel the heat rolling off him. Pretending to study the drink menu hanging above the bar, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Joel. His dark eyes, shaded beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, flicked up just as you turned your head, catching you mid-scan. His lips curled into that slow, knowing smile that always seemed to unravel you from the inside out, making your heart stutter in response.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Joel teased, his voice smooth and warm, like honey dripping slow. Before you could even form a response, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug that was far more intimate than it should’ve been. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath mingled with the earthy tones of his cologne, the combination stirring something deep and unnameable inside you. His chest pressed against yours for a moment that stretched just a bit too long, his hand sliding gently across your back, the warmth of his touch both firm and tender. When he finally pulled away, his smirk—the one that always made your heart stutter—was firmly in place, his eyes twinkling with a kind of mischief that left you breathless.

Joel leaned in just a bit closer, the space between you shrinking as he tilted his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, his voice a smooth, lazy drawl that made the offer feel like the most natural thing in the world, like it was just the two of you, here and now.

You smiled, trying to steady yourself under his gaze. Your eyes flicked to the drink menu for a split second before meeting his again, the weight of his attention making it hard to focus. Biting your lip, you shrugged playfully. "Yeah, but I can't decide."

Joel tipped his head, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his whiskey, his eyes never straying from yours. “Can’t go wrong with whiskey,” he murmured, lifting his glass slightly, his deep drawl wrapping around you like velvet, warm and teasing.

You arched an eyebrow, mirroring his playful tone. “A little strong for me, don’t you think?”

His smile deepened, a hint of challenge flickering in his gaze. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dipping lower. “Thought you could handle a little heat.”

A blush crept up your neck, spreading across your cheeks, and suddenly your usual witty responses seemed to vanish. He was being forward tonight—really forward. This wasn’t like his usual stolen glances or the casual brushes of his hand. Joel Miller was flirting with you. And it wasn’t subtle.

“Wanna try?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, rich with mischief. His eyes flickered in a way that left no room for doubt, tracing your lips before he subconsciously licked his own. The gesture was slow, deliberate, and paired with the gleam in his gaze, it sent a shiver straight through you.

You hesitated for a second, but before you could answer, he was already lifting the glass to your lips. The smooth rim of the glass touched your mouth, and as you took a slow sip, your eyes locked with his, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The whiskey burned down your throat, a warmth spreading through your chest, but it was his gaze that made your breath hitch. Your head tilted back slightly as you swallowed, and he watched, his eyes darkening, intense and unwavering.

The moment stretched between you, the tension tightening like a wire pulled taut, neither of you breaking the connection. His gaze followed the movement of your throat, the subtle rise and fall as you drank, and when you lowered your head again, the air around you felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Joel’s lips, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous and teasing. He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “Good girl,” he drawled, the words soaked in heat, went straight to your core.

Your heart stuttered at the words, heat flooding your cheeks. The intensity in his gaze hadn’t lessened, if anything, it had deepened. He leaned just a fraction closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin, his eyes slightly hooded as they took you in, tracing the curve of your lips and the flush on your cheeks.

You were overwhelmed, every hair on your body standing on end, your thoughts a hazy blur as you tried to figure out if the moment you were sharing with Joel was real or some kind of daydream. Joel had been bolder tonight, more direct, and it was almost too much. The weight of his touch, the intensity of his gaze—it all lingered, leaving your skin flushed and your pulse racing. You needed to break the tension, to say something before you completely lost your grip on reality.

“You know,” you began, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips, “I gotta say, you pull off the cowboy look better than I expected.” Your tone was light, playful, but the flutter of nerves in your stomach betrayed the weight of the moment still hanging between you.

Joel chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a ripple of warmth through you. His eyes flicked down to his boots and then back up, settling on you with a glint of mischief. “That so?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow as he leaned in just a bit closer, the space between you tightening. “And what exactly were you expectin’, huh? Me in my old t-shirt and worn-out jeans?”

You shrugged, biting your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “Maybe. It’s kinda your signature look, isn’t it?”

“It’s comfortable,” he replied with a casual shrug, his eyes glinting. “But sometimes you gotta switch it up. Thought I’d embrace the theme tonight.” He paused, his gaze lingering on you before flicking up to the top of your head. “Where’s your cowboy attire, anyway?”

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Figured the boots were enough,” you said, glancing down at your feet. Joel's gaze followed, but his eyes didn’t stop there. They trailed slowly up the length of your bare legs, lingering for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before meeting yours again.

Joel clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Nah, you’re missin’ somethin’,” he teased, tilting his head slightly, his eyes scanning you with an exaggerated slowness, as if picturing you fully in theme. “Can’t go to a cowboy party without a cowboy hat. Gotta complete the look.”

Before you could respond, someone called his name from across the bar. Joel let out a quiet sigh, turning slightly to see who it was. The reluctance on his face was unmistakable, the easygoing warmth from moments ago fading just a bit as the interruption pulled him away from you. A flicker of disappointment crossed his expression, like he was just as unwilling to let go of the moment as you were.

He turned back to you, his eyes softening once more. “Looks like I gotta take care of somethin’ real quick,” he said, his voice laced with quiet reluctance.

For a brief second, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, with a decisive nod, Joel reached up, pulling the cowboy hat from his own head. The brim caught the warm light, casting a shadow over his face as he held it in his hands.

“You’re missin’ this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, rough around the edges in the way that always sent a thrill through you. Before you could even process what he was doing, Joel gently placed the hat on your head, tilting it just right with careful hands. His fingers brushed through your hair as he adjusted it.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in your chest. “Joel…” you started, unsure of what to say, but he wasn’t finished.

“Looks better on you anyway,” he added, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, as if he wasn’t just talking about the hat. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, a quiet promise lingering in the space between you. For a moment, everything around you—the noise, the laughter, the people—faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing there in the dim light, the air thick with something unspoken.

Joel’s fingers lingered for a second longer, brushing against your cheek, before he pulled away. He gave you one last lingering look, his lips curving into a small, private smile as he stepped back.

“Don’t lose it, now,” he said with a wink, his voice carrying a hint of something playful, though there was a deeper meaning hidden beneath the words.

And just like that, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd, leaving you standing there with his cowboy hat resting on your head, your heart pounding and your thoughts a jumbled mess of everything that had just passed between you. The warmth of his presence still lingered, even though he was no longer standing beside you, and as you lifted a hand to touch the brim of the hat, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

•••

For the rest of the night, you tried to focus on the conversations swirling around you, laughing at the right moments, nodding along when someone spoke. But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joel. Every sip of the whiskey he’d left for you—a drink too bitter for your liking—became a reminder of him. The taste lingered on your lips, but not as much as the memory of his hands on your waist, the low murmur of his voice, the heat of his gaze.

But what made it impossible to forget was the way he kept finding you, catching your eye from across the room. Every time your gazes locked, it was as though the world around him faded—he'd stop mid-conversation, his attention drawn solely to you, as if no one else existed. His eyes would linger, dark and intense, leaving you breathless and yearning for the moments you had been closer.

His hair, now slightly tousled from where the hat had once sat, made him look even more rugged, and every time he looked at you, it was as though the air between you thickened. The party became a blur, the conversations blending into background noise, because the only thing that mattered was the way Joel would glance at you with that slow, deliberate look that made your heart race. He’d look at you like he was memorizing the sight, like he was already missing the moments when your paths would cross again.

Then, Sarah’s voice rang out, cutting through the hum of conversation and the twang of country music. She stood on a chair, her curls wild under the string lights, hands raised high as she grinned mischievously. “Alright, y’all, before we cut the cake, we’ve got one more thing to do,” she announced, her voice loud and full of excitement. “Who’s ready for the bull?”

With the energy buzzing in the air, Sarah bounded over to the bull. The crowd followed, gathering around as she made a show of adjusting her cowboy boots and tossing her hair over her shoulder with exaggerated flair. You couldn’t help but laugh as she flashed you a quick wink before climbing on. She threw one arm in the air dramatically, gripping the saddle with the other, and the crowd went wild.

The bull jerked to life, and Sarah let out an exaggerated "yee-haw!" that had everyone howling with laughter. She clung to the bull, her curls bouncing wildly as she tried to maintain her balance, her boots slipping in the stirrups. It didn’t take long—maybe ten seconds, if that—before she lost her grip and tumbled off, landing in a pile of giggles on the padded floor.

Amid the cheers and clapping, Sarah stood up, taking a playful bow as she caught her breath, her curls bouncing with the movement. Then, her eyes locked onto yours with a devilish glint. Her smile widened into a mischievous grin, and with one finger pointed directly at you, she shouted, “Your turn!”

You groaned internally, feeling the heat of all eyes on you. For a moment, you seriously contemplated making a break for it, envisioning a swift escape out the back door before anyone could push you toward the beast in front of you.

But before you could act on your plan, two strong hands found your waist from behind, steady and familiar.

“Come on, darlin’. You’re up,” Joel’s deep voice drawled near your ear. His hands were firm but gentle, guiding you toward the bull like you didn’t have a choice in the matter. And truthfully, with him so close, you weren’t sure you wanted one.

The crowd parted as Joel walked with you, his presence commanding as always. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of whiskey and something earthier filling the space between you.

You stood beside the bull, feeling a little ridiculous but mostly nervous. Not because of the bull, but because of Joel—his hand still lingering on your waist, the heat of his fingers burning through the fabric of your dress. He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, the subtle brush of his chest against your back making your skin tingle with awareness. Joel leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low—dangerously low.

“Let’s see how well you ride,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, each syllable laced with suggestion.

The innuendo hit you hard, making your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your belly and rush of blood rushing to your cheeks at the implication in his voice.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, his hands tightened on your waist. With an effortless lift, Joel had you in the saddle, his strong grip making you feel weightless, completely under his control. The brush of his fingers as they left your hips was like fire, leaving you reeling, breathless, as you adjusted to your seat on the bull.

After Joel lifted you onto the bull, his fingers didn't pull away immediately. Instead, they lingered, resting on your bare thigh where your dress had ridden up just slightly. His rough fingertips began tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin—small, hidden movements shielded by the way his body subtly blocked the view from anyone else around. It was an intimate touch, just for you, as if he was testing the waters, seeing how far he could push without a word.

His touch, though soft, was firm enough to make you dizzy, each little circle drawing you further into the heat of the moment, making it impossible to think about anything else but him.

Your breath caught, and when you glanced up, his eyes were already locked on yours, dark and intense, like he was daring you to react. His thumb lingered on your thigh for just a heartbeat longer, pressing slightly before he stepped back, leaving you breathless.

The bull’s leather seat was cool beneath you, its surface slightly worn and slick under your palms as you gripped the reins, trying to steady your racing heart.

As you settled onto the bull, you tried to focus on anything but the way Joel’s touch still seemed to burn on your skin.

Before you could prepare yourself, the machine beneath you jerked to life and the crowd around you erupted in cheers and laughter. But it all felt distant, as though you were caught in a bubble, the world slowing down.

You gripped the bull’s rope handle tightly, your knuckles white against the worn leather, trying to steady yourself as it bucked forward. The motion was rough, your body swaying with each unpredictable movement, the muscles in your legs straining to hold on.

Your dress rode up just a bit more with each buck of the bull, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joel still watching you, arms crossed, his gaze intense, unwavering. His lips quirked into that signature smirk of his, and it sent a thrill through you, making it even harder to concentrate on staying upright.

The bull bucked harder, throwing you back, and you squealed in surprise, laughter bubbling up in your chest. But even through the laughter, you felt the weight of his stare, the way his eyes traced every movement, every stumble, every sway. Your thighs burned from holding on - But the hardest thing wasn’t the bull—it was resisting the pull of Joel’s gaze, the weight of it still on you.

He hadn't moved an inch, standing just close enough for you to catch glimpses of him between the wild jerks of the bull. His dark eyes locked on you, unwavering, and every time your gaze met his, his lips curled into that slow, lazy grin that made your heart race. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, how his steady gaze ignited something inside you that made it even harder to concentrate. The thought alone made your stomach flip, a rush of heat flooding through you despite the cool night air.

With a playful grin of your own, you reached up, pulling the cowboy hat from your head and doing what you’d seen in every movie—swinging it in one hand as you tried to ride out the last few bucks. The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, but all you could focus on was Joel’s reaction, the way his eyes darkened just a little more, that grin of his growing wider as he watched you, completely captivated.

The bull twisted sharply to one side, and your grip faltered. You let out a squeal, laughter bubbling up from your chest, but you could feel yourself slipping. Your body swayed dangerously, your dress hitching up even further, and just as you were about to fall, Joel stepped forward, his eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite name.

With one final, hard buck, the bull sent you flying off, tumbling onto the padded mat below with a breathless gasp. The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears and the sound of Joel’s low chuckle as he stepped closer, offering you his hand.

“You alright there, cowgirl?” he teased, his voice thick with amusement. His hand, strong and warm, wrapped around yours as he helped you to your feet, pulling you up with ease.

You laughed breathlessly, brushing off your dress, trying to regain some sense of composure as your heart raced for an entirely different reason now.

You grinned, still catching your breath from the ride, and before you could think twice, you teased, “I think I need more practice.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by the lack of subtlety in your voice. For once, you had surprised him. His gaze flickered with something that made your heart skip, but just as quickly, he composed himself, the corner of his mouth twitching into that familiar smirk.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and low, “maybe I can show you how it’s done sometime.”

Your pulse quickened, a dizzying rush of heat flooding through you at the boldness of his words. It took everything inside of you not to grab him by his flannel and close the distance between you right there and then. The intensity of the moment, the weight of everything unsaid, had your breath catching in your throat. His eyes never left yours, the smoldering desire in them making your heart race as if he was daring you to make the next move.

Before you could respond, Sarah called your name, waving from across the room. You turned, ready to head back to her, but stopped short, suddenly aware of the weight on your head.

Joel’s cowboy hat.

You reached up, ready to hand it back to him.

“Here, you should take this.”

But before you could take it off, Joel’s hand gently stopped you. His thumb brushed over your knuckles.

“Nah,” he murmured, his voice low and rich with meaning.

“Keep it… for our next lesson.”

Your breath hitched at the weight of his words, the promise wrapped in them, and before you could think of something witty to say, Joel gave you one last lingering look, his eyes glinting with something unspoken before he stepped back into the crowd.

As you turned back to Sarah, your heart was still racing, Joel’s hat resting snugly on your head, a promise of something more hanging in the air.

[coeurify]

𝐈𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

pairing & wc : ellie williams x fem!reader. wc: 6.8k

description: a new girl sets her eyes on you, and ellie has no patience for it. you both pay the price for her attitude.. but oh if walls could fucking talk.

warnings: listen to if walls could talk by 5sos. harsh language, drinking, jealous!ellie. name calling, spit, oral!r receiving, fingering!e receiving. the nickname pup is used, dom/sub dynamics.

The air in Jackson was sweet tonight. You can taste the spring wind on the tip of your tongue as you laugh— the early may breeze filling your lungs with something crisp enough to freshen you. Something that settles on your skin with the same dewiness as the petals of flowers that bloom near the doors lining the main street.

Dirt from the gravel road kicks up into the settling sky as Jesse makes a move with his boot, pulling another chuckle from your lips. Your cheeks are as pink as the evening sky already, caused by the laughter that spills between your friend group. Four noisy twenty-somethings clambering toward the Tipsy Bison, spitting jokes between yourselves.

You find your focus setting on the pink and orange hues in the sky, looking much more painting-like than anything of reality. Your eyes follow each brush stroke with curiosity, the pre-game sips of liquor stolen from a house’s cabinet sitting low in your belly.

Dina appears next to you and pushes her shoulder into yours, bare skin pressed against each other. It was finally warm enough to rid yourself of the scratchy long sleeves tucked in your closet, and you were taking full advantage. A low-cut and thin short sleeve tucked against your body, which gained you whistles when you showed Dina earlier. The slam forces your head to tilt down from its place in the clouds. “There's a new group Maria let in,” your friend says, pulling your interest directly into her brown eyes. Those brown eyes shift to the girl walking beside you, who stares between the two of you with a smile. “You hear about them El? All I know is some of them are around our age.”

Ellie’s shoulders shrug, green eyes flicking from you and then back to where Jesse was now knocking through the door of the Tipsy Bison as he owned it. “Heard Tommy says it's about 6 of them, two around our ages, the others older. Seems like they caught wind of us and fought to get here.”

Dina nods along as Ellie speaks, bumping into you slightly as all three press through the wooden doors of the establishment. Jesse has already made his way to the bar up front, waving all of you over with one short movement that points to the empty stools beside him.

“Maybe we’ll make some new friends?” You suggest. You watch as Dina and Ellie both take seats on either side of Jesse, yourself sliding into the stool next to the auburn-haired girl.

The soft glow of fading lights above your heads paints everyone in a sweet orange tinge, flushed cheeks set on four faces from the quick walk across town. A soft song plays that you can’t quite make out, just a hum against the decoration-covered walls as the group begins chattering again.

“New friends?” Jesse asks, hand already wrapped around a drink he must have ordered the second he sat down.

“You would know what we were talking about if you didn’t run off in front of us,” Ellie muttered, nodding her head toward the familiar face behind the bar as he asked what she wanted.

“You know how Jesse gets, El. No mind on that one,” Dina smiles, hand coming up to mess his hair from its place. “There's a new group in town, some our age,” she explains to the man, who nods and makes an ooo noise.

“We don’t need more friends. Plus Jesse’s already frustrating enough to deal with,” Ellie cut into the conversation again, lips fighting back a grin.

“Why are you so on my ass tonight, Williams?” Jesse asked, a hand reaching to his chest in faux hurt.

“You just get that out of me,” Ellie shrugs.

“C’mon, you just don't wanna share your girlfriend with anyone else,” Dina motions to you, earning a very obvious eye roll from the girl beside you. “You barely let us get time with her.”

“Yea,” you nod, “Ellie’s just obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Ellie mumbles into the glass that had just been pushed in front of her. Your eyes linger on her a little too long after her comment. They then fall back into their position staring at the bottles behind the bar, choosing between what you want. It doesn’t last long, your usual drink coming to mind.

Jesse and Dina bicker to your side, over something as ridiculous as the color of the sky outside, as usual. You don't pay it much mind, your head falling to rest on Ellie’s shoulder, glancing up at her as she takes a sip of what you assume to be whiskey.

“Order me a drink,” you hum, batting your pretty eyelashes at your girlfriend. She shifts a bit in her seat, looking down at you.

“Can I get a please?” She requests, eyes swiping away from your own as the words come from her lips. You make a face, eyebrows pinching together. “No?”

Ellie treats you to another eye roll, pretty emerald flashes that make you lift your head away from her shoulder, knowing you won. Ellie motions the bartender over, muttering the drink order she knew by heart.

You grin, placing a few loud kisses on her cheek. The act scrunches up her nose and brings the bickering couple’s attention back to you, embarrassing Ellie further. Jesse purses his lips together to make obnoxious smooching noises, rewarding him with a harsh shove from Ellie.

The drink is placed in front of you as Ellie and Jesse delve into another low-stakes argument, which you pay no mind to. You raise the glass for a sip, which is cut short by the door pushing open, gaining your interest.

Two young-looking people walk in, followed by Maria. She says something to the man and woman that you can’t make out. The man seems roughed up, and your mind seems to tug a string between him and the earlier conversation with Dina and Ellie. The girl beside him looks a little less nervous and less fucked up. Her eyes search the bar curiously, feet bouncing.

Maria sends them off with a short pat on the back, likely after some spiel about interacting with the residents. Dina seems to be watching the same show, already having hopped out of her seat to skip to you, grabbing your arm.

“That’s them,” Dina says, ignoring your partners who are still acting like children, now demanding the other can’t drink as much.

You nod, taking another long sip from your glass before slipping from the barstool to follow her. There isn’t even a whisper of apprehension on her features as she walks toward the two, but your feet drag slightly behind.

“Hi! You’re the new ones right?” She greets both, through her eyes fall on the bruised cheek of the man first. “Shit, you already get fucked up?”

Beside her your throat clears, warning Dina to not push too far. She doesn’t seem to get the hint, still reaching out to shake his hand. The man accepts, shrugging gently as his eyes shift around.

“Ran into a group right before we made it here, one of your patrol groups found em’ and us. They shot both of us till we told them what we were here for.”

Dina nods, “Well, guess you got a warm Jackson welcome,” she grins like she’s the funniest person in the world as she says it, quickly introducing both herself and you.

“Will,” the man says in response, grinning. You can see Will relaxing slightly at the seemingly easy welcome he was receiving in the closely-knit town. You didn’t have the heart to tell him Dina was just like that, so you flash a smile back at him before your eyes follow the new voice. It was the girl, her eyes dead set on your face.

“Pretty name,” she comments, her blonde hair flipping behind her shoulder as her head tilts lightly. You glance away, hoping it was directed instead to Dina. Though the gaze that doesn’t break from your face seems to challenge that.

“I’m Jess,” the blonde adds quickly after, saving you from any embarrassment as Dina quickly jumps in.

“Oh! My boyfriend’s name is Jesse, how funny. Come on you have to meet them,” Dina nods her head toward the bar, where you can feel two sets of eyes burning into the side of your face. It seems Jesse and Ellie noticed your disappearance, chins tilted up in confusion as they watched the conversation unfold. For a moment you meet Ellie’s eyes, hoping she hadn’t heard Jess’s ballsy remark. But the way her jaw clicked told you she was already in a mood about the girl next to you either way.

Your shoes press into the wood floor, dreading the attitude you knew was about to come from your girlfriend regarding the two new bodies that followed you back to the seats. Ellie was always unsure of new faces and never bit back remarks that conjured up due to this. A tough face thrown on top of a slightly anxious body, Ellie believed the spitting words were just protection. It was a disastrous mix, one that often ended in arguments.

More familiar faces flood into the bar as the sun sets outside, the open space becoming slightly louder as people settle in. You hope it brings a sense of attitude suppressant to the auburn-haired girl you sit next to. A larger crowd usually shut her down. Some of this hope shrivels into a ball in your throat as Jess picks to sit on the other side of you. If you could tell the new girl she just sat on a fucking match you would have, but Ellie beats you to it.

Her arm stretches out behind you, the inked-on leaves now on display, sleeves bunched to her elbow. Her eyes meet Jess’s, but you know who the gaze is really directed at. Her arm purposefully presses into your back as she introduces herself, looking for a handshake. You can feel the fake confidence melting off of the skin that touches you.

“I’m Ellie, and she is my-” your girlfriend begins, nodding her head toward you.

In a move that stuns you both, Jess stares Ellie right back, cutting her words off. “I’m Jess. And she already introduced herself.”

It almost amuses you, the way Jess doesn’t shy under Ellie’s obvious glare and doesn’t bother picking up her hand to shake Ellie’s. Most people waltzing into a brand new haven wouldn’t exactly be keen on having such an attitude with the residents, but Jess was. The smug look on her face pisses you off just as much, glancing at the mouthy newcomer with furrowed eyebrows. She doesn’t pay any mind to it.

It takes a moment for those pretty green eyes next to you to look a little less eager to fight, leaning forward again and dropping her hand back to her side in defeat.

You let the small act go, eyeing Ellie once in a sign only you two understood. Her lips busy themself on the almost empty glass before her. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”

You can see Dina biting her lip, fighting back that laugh you are sure bubbles in her throat at the all-too-loud interaction next to them. Jesse pretends he didn’t see it, and you nearly thank the stars above when he speaks.

“Hey, let me order you guys drinks,” He offers as Will settles next to his friend.

Both nod, eager to get something other than water in their throats. You find yourself tuning out the conversation that follows, finishing off your drink with a few more gulps. Ellie beside you also falls silent, though that is a little more expected following what just happened. You trail along the various pictures and signs on the walls as you welcome the warmth in your belly brought on by the drinks.

You resort to nods and hums in response for the next while, only paying full attention when Jesse brings up Ellie’s name. “Most of us do patrols, I’m sure one of you will get put with Ellie or Dina on the first few, to show you the way.”

“Ah, you guys been on a lot?” Will questions, leaning in more to see all the different faces

Ellie nods, trying her best to be less bitter to Will, who hadn't done anything to create the redness on her face. “Yea, kinda all we do,” she answers with a slight shrug. A piece of her hair falls to her cheek and you bite back the urge to move forward and brush it away, twirling your finger around the strand like you would in private. Ellie was already embarrassed enough though, so your fingernails make patterns in the wood top of the bar instead.

Dina calls your name next, eyes falling onto you, “She works with the farm though, all the animals and crops.”

“Oh,” Jess budges in, tilting her head toward you. “Maria mentioned that being an option, do you like it?”

“Yea,” you shrug, finger following the rim of your now empty cup. “It’s fine, boring sometimes.”

The slightest bit of attention you had given the blonde had an immediate effect on Ellie next to you, who sighs loud enough for only you to hear. The next moment you feel a hand on your back, fingers dancing over where the shirt you wear meets your pants. They grip around your side like a child looking for attention, squeezing gently to tug your stool impossibly closer. Quickly you swat the hand away, denying eye contact with the girl beside you.

Ellie doesn’t take the defeat, placing the shooed-away hand on your thigh next, burning with what you can only assume is possessiveness. You can hear her gulp another drink down next to you in another plea for your attention. You let this hand stay, finding comfort in the small circles that Ellie’s thumb draws over your jeans, but refuse to meet her eyes. You can feel annoyance chipping away at your chest, its nasty claws digging over the softer wanted feeling that appeared from your girlfriend’s acts.

Jess seems to notice the show, glancing away for a moment to regain a sense of comfort as Ellie finally pulls away. Her elbows make their appearance on the bartop as she leans her chin into her palms. “Hm.. can’t be too boring with people you know around… I’ll have to tell Maria I’m interested.”

There’s a slight tilt to her voice, one you can’t decipher between friendliness and .. more. It sends your head spinning in confusion. She saw Ellie’s hand on you, heard Jesse clear his throat at the words, and still smiled gently at you. Dina interrupted quickly with some bullshit about stables— but it was already too late. The tension drips from the air and right into your empty cup, filling it with a stronger burn than alcohol.

The bluntest edge of Ellie’s nails digs into your pants, drawing a small noise from your mouth as your head snaps her way. Neither of you looks away for a long second, the game ending when her hand finally falls back to her lap.

Soon Ellie’s leaning in, trying you again as she becomes touchy. The usual unnerved energy that pulses in the girl when trying to give you affection in public is gone, lips pressing to your cheek and jaw in a showy way that brings Jess’s eyes on and off of you two. You can feel your cheeks redden at the act, biting back any urge to turn and slap her lips away. You hope ignoring it is enough of a sign, but Ellie only ends when she can see the flush on your face herself.

The next few minutes go too fast for you to make much sense of. Ellie has fallen completely silent, whether from anger or embarrassment, you aren’t sure. Jesse and Dina have started a much more lightweight conversation about Will and Jess’s travels here, which Will happily chats about over his drink.

There's a loud hum to the bar, mixing voices from all angles of the small building swirling in an annoying sort of way that have you tapping the empty cup. “Do you want another drink? I can order you one when I ask for my own,” a voice asks.

It’s not Ellie’s, instead, brown eyes meet your own. It was Jess, a small yet all too confident smile on her face as her fingers brush against yours that rest on the cup. It’s soft enough to be passed as friendly, as were all her words on the outside— but it doesn’t matter. You all knew.

Hell breaks loose the moment Ellie’s eyes see the touch. You can feel the flames licking your cheek as the much more familiar tone of Ellie filters into your ears. “Are you serious?”

“Ellie-“ you warn, ignoring the blonde’s words to find the flushed and freckled face of your girlfriend. Ellie is too far gone in her little ball of anger to listen.

“Are you stupid or really just that fucking ballsy?”

“Excuse me?” Jess blinks innocently, “Was just bein nice?”

The question sends the whole group silent, five sets of eyes falling on Ellie. A shocked sort of laugh bubbles from Jesse’s mouth, who is quickly elbowed by Dina. You take the comment as your cue to go, stumbling off your stool as you grip Ellie’s arm, forcing her off her own as she continues grumbling insults about Jess’s apparent flirting.

“She doesn’t even fucking like blondes by the way, she-” and then your hand is slapping over Ellie’s mouth before she can get loud enough for more patrons to hear, nails digging nastily into the fat of her cheek.

She pushes the handoff, grabbing your arm, “Mine, you got it? She’s mine. I'm the one taking her home to--” Ellie starts again, cut off by a yelp as you slap her arm hard enough to cause the quick death of that sentence.

“I'm gonna take her home,” you explain with an apologetic grin as you step. Then your face dims a little as you look at Jess, shooting her one of your confused glares before twisting away. With your arms wrapping around Ellie, you pull her through the crowd. Dina’s muffled voice saying something along the lines of, “Don't try it again,” is the last thing you hear.

Ellie continues to speak into your hand, mumbling nonsense of repeated, “mine,” “fucking fuck,” and other jealous blabbering as you step out into the now dark street.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The walk home was eerily quiet, both of you having untangled yourselves from the position you pushed out of the Tipsy Bison in to instead walk alone. You mull over your next choices for the night as lightning bugs play their part in distracting Ellie. You can still feel the anger radiating off of her as she harshly slams the door of her garage home open, flooding you both with the dim lights that hang from her walls.

“You are so fucking lucky I didn’t do something in public,” a voice seethes, walking the opposite body back against the now-shut door.

But it’s not Ellie leading the movements, nor saying the words. She is the one backing against the shut door as your mouth falls open to continue the rant.

“Acting like that in front of everyone? Grabbing at me and talking like you own me?” You scoff, a familiar feeling inking into your skin as Ellie shys under you just slightly. The power trip was already building inside of you, making you feel ten feet taller as you stare at the girl under the golden lighting.

“That .. that fucking girl was flirting with you!” Ellie argues, arms crossing over her chest in a way that made your eyes fall on the deliciously flexed muscles there.

“And so you treat me like a piece of meat to stake your claim over?”

Ellie blinks a few times, shaking her head to try and answer your biting remark, “That isn’t-“

You step even closer, breath fanning against Ellie’s nose and lips as you speak. You like how the small act has Ellie shivering beside you, pretty soft skin gaining a pink tint. “You have no idea how badly I want to parade around what happens behind closed doors Ellie. Because god, do you like to act like you’re the one with any control.”

Ellie doesn’t dare reply as you continue speaking, instead trying to look anywhere but your face. “Palming at my thigh.. kissing me like you’re some needy bitch, declaring mine in front of our whole friend group? And then implying you were gonna take me home and fuck me? All because some girl couldn’t take a hint?”

Ellie, still against the door— shakes her head. You watch as her throat moves in a gulping motion. “She was all over you, you can’t be mad I got upset,” she says after a moment of building confidence, making a move you both knew would end badly by pushing through your body to pace around the small space. One of her hands comes to play with a finger on her opposite palm, comforting herself.

“I’m not mad at you for getting upset, Ellie. I’m mad you act like you have any ownership over me. I’m mad you had the nerve to say that shit knowing perfectly fucking well who does what when the door closes.”

Ellie won’t look at you, unsurprisingly so as she moves to a more bratty-sounding tone. “Oh, Jesus Christ how awful someone may think you bottom, babe. You’ll survive. Maybe you should try it.”

For a moment you say nothing, toeing the incredibly thin line the two of you are walking on. You know Ellie well enough to see through the game she’s beginning to play, searching for reassurance and attention with chipped remarks and arguments. You also know Ellie’s ego was sore from tonight’s events, creating an even brattier version of herself. The last comment is an open invitation to make her regret the words.. regret her touchy attitude tonight.

Of course, you take it. Of course, you bite on the bait Ellie had set before you with sharp teeth, licking your lips.

“And you’ll survive not touching me tonight,” you shrug, kicking off your shoes as you walk to the bed you spend nearly every night in. You plant yourself directly on the edge, following the sound of Ellie’s shoes dragging. There's a slight sweat building on the nape of your neck as you recount the events from earlier, perfectly clear images of your needy girlfriend coming to the forefront of your mind as you continue your half-hearted anger.

“What?” Ellie mutters, finally meeting your eyes.

“You did plenty of fucking touching with the show you put on tonight, think you met your limit,” you answer with a sigh, peeling the jeans from your legs in a slow movement, knowing it will catch the attention of green eyes. There is no ignoring the immediate hitch in her breath that follows. Ellie was easy to get worked up, no matter how much she would deny that if you ever told her so. You already knew tonight was going to be so much fun.

“C’mon that’s not fair,” Ellie mumbles, emphasizing each word in an attempt to stump any building whines.

“I'm tired Ellie,” you answer with a small fake-sounding yawn. “I don't want to argue, come lay down,” you pat the spot next to you on the bed, innocently enough that Ellie actually trudges over and sits next to you.

“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have. Imagine a girl flirting with me, how would you react?” Ellie muttered, knowing full well she would not get an answer she liked.

“Not act like a jealous bitch in front of everyone, woulda just left,” you criticize softly, though there isn’t too much bite, you both know you were just as jealous as her. “Would’ve taken you home..” you sigh, fingers finding the buttons of her shirt, “remind you who you belong to..”

Your hands move to her front, unbuttoning the flannel that she wears, pulling a shiver from her after your words. It's a simple act you two had fallen into the routine of ages ago. Undressing each other before bed, grabbing pajamas, pressing kisses to sore spots after a day of work, massaging muscles. A small sign of affection that was often done over comforting silence. Today’s silence however was a little more charged.

Of course, you had already pulled your pants off in a sign to Ellie that you were not joking about the no-touching statement, not allowing her any whisper of her fingers against your own. The flannel pools down her arms, letting you toss it into the small hamper near the window. The outside air commands it warm enough to also tug Ellie’s undershirt off, and she hums in approval when your fingers linger on the bare skin over her ribs, leaving only the fitted sports bra left. Next is her jeans, purposefully pressing your hands a little harshly into her hips, hoping to catch a small hint of Ellie squirming from it. She does, of course. The motion presses a heat in between your thighs, one that had been growing since Ellie and you had gotten home.

“Go grab stuff to sleep in?” You ask, though Ellie knows it isn’t a question. She stands, rummaging through the unorganized dresser near her bed to pull out a pair of sweatpants for herself and a larger shirt she wore often for you. Your shirt is quickly discarded, gaining the attention of Ellie’s wandering eyes as she holds the clothes close to her chest. The way she bites the inside of her cheek is enough of a sign that she’s frustrated you did it yourself, but no words follow the action.

El tosses you the shirt, one that smells like her in all the right ways as you tug it over your head, watching it bunch up at your hips. The second part of the plan building in your mind dictated no sleep shorts would follow, but Ellie seemed to not have grabbed you any pants, likely for her own pleasure of looking at your bare thighs. You press back into the bed, head finding the cold pillow at the tip of it as Ellie pulls on her sweatpants. The sight of her fingers curling around the fabric alone is enough to tighten your lower stomach again, slightly regretting your no-touching decision. Soon she follows your lead, climbing under the blankets to your left, small breaths of air leaving her lips as she looks over at you. “Can I at least lay against you?”

You shake your head in answer, watching Ellie shift uncomfortably next to you. “Baby-” she tries again, finding your eyes in the soft light. Your lips pull into a straight line with another sign of no, leading to groans from your girlfriend as a flash of auburn hair pushed back into the pillow dramatically.

The room falls into quiet again, the only noise that of shuffling sheets and the crickets that lay in the growing grass outside. When Ellie’s breath calms into a more tired sounding pull, you glance up to the ceiling. You let your mind fall into the building plan laid out in the dark ceiling above you. Your eyes press closed, cloudy paintings of Ellie leaning against you, Ellie grabbing at your thigh in the bar, kissing you, her angry little breaths that built as Jess spoke more— they all flood into your mind. You could act mad all you want, and maybe you were a bit angry at how Ellie liked to put out this image of her holding the power, but really the jealousy had you feeling warm all over.

Your palm presses against your chest, the pads of your fingers denting into the cotton of the shirt you wore, dragging down in a way that had you squirm just slightly. You would much rather it was Ellie’s hand that found your panties next, looking up at you from her knees as she waited for the next command. But it wasn’t, and you were much too stubborn.

Your fingers dipped under the elastic of the lace, shimmying them down slightly. Ellie stirred just a bit beside you but didn’t seem to notice what was happening yet. “Are we really just gonna lay here in silence?” she asks. Too focused on the pad of your fingers running along the slightly wet slit, all you do is hum in response. The wetness that dashes your finger is used as a helper as you rub circles on your clit.

The almost silent response seems to finally draw Ellie’s eyes to you, though the only light of the strings near her wall leaves little to be seen. What Ellie does notice, dim lights or not, is your eyes squeezing close. She noticed the motion of your arm, following it down to where your fingers are moving between your thighs. It sends her sitting straight up, which you can feel in the dip of the old mattress.

“What are you doing?” Ellie begins, cut off but the shush that you respond with. “Makin’ myself feel good,” you grumbled, as if it was annoying you that she watched. In reality, it just made the tightness in your stomach further, a tightly knotted rope that tugged in all the right ways when you felt green eyes searching over your body.

Ellie doesn’t answer for a few more moments, transfixed by the motion of your fingers, unable to put an end to the whine that finally sounds, reaching your ear right as you press a particularly hard swirl to your bud. “Let me,” Ellie croaks, moving to settle toward the end of the bed. From this angle you are sure she can see everything, even more so when you press your thighs open more, your glistening center on full display for your squirming girlfriend. The plan was working just as you assumed it would, her bratty mouth quieted by the sight.

“No,” you deny her, a small gasp following the words as you look at her. The sight is enough to bring another pool of wetness to your slit, which your fingers dip down into, pushing one digit into yourself. Ellie whines even louder than you at the sight, “Please, I’ll be good,” she tried again, a sweeter twinge to her voice that you knew was all an act. One you wouldn’t buy into despite how you imagined it was her fingers as you added another.

Your mind struggles to find the right words, but Ellie waits patiently. “Good?” you criticized, “Were you good when you acted like a brat out tonight? Were you good when you argued with me?”

The words are as stern as you can make them, urging your gaze to stay on her instead of falling back against the pillow. “Told you no touching, that’s the end of it,” you mumble. The wet noises of your fingers moving in and out of your center have Ellie salivating, licking her lips quickly as she eyes you. You can see the way her pupils dilate, you watch as her body goes a little less stiff. The earlier anger and insecurity that has been building against her freckled cheeks and sore muscles dissolving just like you wanted them to. You needed her to forget about the annoying girl earlier, and focus instead on you. on you two. You needed to carve away the brattiness in the only way you knew how making her beg for you.

You let a few moans pass your lips, hips bucking gently. You can feel the fire building in your core, knowing soon you will reach your peak.

“Please, I'm- sorry, I'm sorry baby please let me touch you. need to touch you,” Ellie rattled on.

You let her continue for a moment, her babbles filling the now thick air of her garage, pounding against your mind as it slipped away. When you finally feel yourself reaching the wave of pleasure in your lower belly, you stop, effectively edging yourself away from an orgasm.

“You wanna help me feel good?” You question, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs closed to ease the ache as you stare at Ellie. She nods quickly, strands of hair following messily in the movement’s wake. “Still don’t-“ you breathe out, “Still can't touch me, but you can use your mouth. Hands to yourself baby,” you begin, but before you can even finish the sentence Ellie is laying between your thighs, hands balled together against the blanket, her hot mouth pressing into you before you can even process the action.

It draws a surprised noise from you, your head pressing back against the pillowcase, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Ellie listened, of course, she did, her hands staying put against the fabric of the sheets. Her mouth dug into your pussy like she was starving, nose bumping into your clit messily, licking up all of the slick that had drooled from you from your own fingers, now gushing out more and more regularly from her ministrations.

“Fuck,” you moan, flushing as your lip quivers. “You were fucking born for this Ellie, such a good mouth, so much— much better using it to do this than bein’ a brat,” you spit, fingers finding the short strands of her hair, pressing her face even closer into your folds as you searched for your release. Ellie whined against you, and you watched as her knuckles flexed, obviously fighting against grabbing at the flesh of your thighs.

“Put them.. put them behind your back,” you grit through your teeth, allowing no wavering to your words. Ellie knew what you meant immediately, green eyes looking up at you as she did as she was told, wrists grasping each other behind her back.

It’s a little mean, the way she has to shimmy around with no arms. The way you can see her blunt nails fig unto her skin to keep it from trying to find your skin like her body was begging to have you. Your own body was gasping for something similar, over-sensitive from your previous work on your clit.

“Such a good girl, Els” you breathe out, hips bucking into her face. “Gonna come, you’re taking it so well, pup.”

The pet name seems to render her almost useless, freezing up against you as you grind down into her mouth. She comes back a moment later, tripling her efforts as her lips come to wrap around your clit, sucking harshly.

You let a loud, messy sounding moan out, not caring who may hear outside. Not caring if it gave away too much of how you felt. With a girl as pretty as Ellie between your thighs, who would care?

She doesn’t allow herself more than a few panicked breaths, solely focused on making more noises empty your lips. She suckles against you particularly hard after you shift, and that’s the feeling that sends you toppling over the edge. A choked noise rips past your mouth before you can stop it, slick spilling all over Ellie as she desperately tries to collect it all. Your still moving hips leave that difficult, getting her lips and cheeks glossy as well. Your nails don't leave her scalp, scratching gently in a repeated motion. It has her pulling back from your core, blinking slowly, dazed as she stares at you.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” you gush, riding out the leftover feelings from your orgasm. Your wall is breaking, craving your pretty girlfriend’s hands on you too much to keep up with the punishment for much longer. “Could never want anyone but you, y’know that right?” You huff, hand grasping her hair in a sign for her to lift up. She does so easily, hands on either side of the bed as she hovers above you, her lips ghosting over your own.

“No one could compare to my needy girl,” you coo, brushing your lips against hers. The words drive home a point you hadn’t yet made clear. Jess had no chance, no one did. No one could ever be Ellie. Your Ellie.

There’s nothing else around you now. No light, no sounds. The world is silent and dark, Ellie being the only source of light in your eyesight, in your ears, and your mind. Nothing deviated away from her as her lip trembled. The look of her has you quickly flipping your positions, settling nicely straddling over her, and finally blessing her with your hands against her as you lean over her. Your fingers find her jaw, pressing her mouth open in a soft motion. She wastes no time parting her lips further, tongue lolling out for you like she knew what was coming. When a string of spit falls from your lips and onto her waiting tongue, she accepts it gladly. “so good,” you uttered, shivering as she swallows.

“What do you want, baby?” You ask next, deeming she has listened nice enough to be rewarded.

“Let me kiss you,” Ellie whispers, sniffling gently as she adds a soft, “please.” You grant her wish, leaning to press a kiss to her waiting lips, the sound of approval she gives reverberating against your connected mouths.

“Such a perfect girl,” you blabber, stomach swirling as you watch her slip into that delicious space you always brought her to, whiney and wordless— looking at you like you were the only person in the whole damn world. Your words die off with another kiss, hand finding her boxers, dipping into the fabric. It greets you with a large wet spot, the dripping core of your girlfriend the obvious culprit. Ellie whimpers against your lips, and you swallow it like it's the most delicious thing you’ve ever been given, kissing her harshly, biting at the bottom lip.

When one finger sinks easily into her folds, you hum against her, lips dragging to her ear to mumble against it. “This is what you wanted the whole time, hm?” You ask, another finger dipping into the mix as you feel her walls grip around you. Like it was made for you. “Wanted me to get mad at you for acting like a needy whore.. wanted me to take you home and fuck you, let you know you’re the only one I want?” You accuse, nipping at her ear lobe as your digits curl, pulling another whine from your girlfriend.

The words are as true as they can be, and Ellie knows that. She acknowledges this with a nod of her head, and you don’t push much further. “Fit perfectly around my fingers, pup. Fuckin made for me,” your voice calls against her neck as you bite into the skin, a yelp from above you following it. She grinds into your fingers, and you allow it, following the rolls of her hips as you hit that spot that left her gasping.

“No one could ever get me like this, even as bratty as you are,” you promise, twisting your hand in a way that has her thighs moving without much permission from her mind, thrusting up into you. “Want you to soak my fingers, baby,” you nip at the nape of her neck, hot breath wetting the skin as you pull back. The quickening pace of your fingers has her delirious, mouth dropping open to pant.

You swear it may be the prettiest sight, and you pull back to get a full view. Your hair falls from its place, sticking to your sticky forehead, eyes focused sharply on Ellie as her cheeks became a deep cherry red, freckles disappearing into the red flesh. You want to reach forward, want to feel her gasp against your lips as you continue to hit her sweet spot over and over, but the way she pushes out sweet little moans is a much more gorgeous sight.

“What would our friends think?” You ask lowly, pressing into her harshly. “If they knew you were the whining whore under me hm?” Ellie cries out in response, shaking her head gently.

“Think it’d be funny. Them knowing that tough little Ellie is really just a bratty little bitch,” you croon, tone sickly sweet.

“Baby,” she cries, nose wrinkling as she pulls her eyes shut, “Please let me come, ‘m so close.”

The air around you is sticky, collecting on the skin of your arms and back as your wrist burns, quickening your movements with twists and scissoring movements. Ellie becomes too loud for her own good, teeth sinking into her lip to quiet it at least a little before she wakes the animals or people outside of these walls. Part of you wants them to hear, wants them to find the little pathetic sounding noises that pour from Ellie. Want someone to know it you who gets Ellie like this. Gets her squirming against you, begging for, “more,” and “harder.”

Who were you to deny such a handsome girl after all? With another thrust of your fingers, you feel her clench around you, her chest pausing as the feeling overwhelms her. The wetness spills over your fingers soon thereafter, leaving them even slicker as you continue. You were far from done with Ellie.

Ellie lifts her head, staring down at your fingers that disappear in and out of her clenching pussy, “please, no more.”

“You were actin needy all night,” you push, words partnered with another thrust into the wet center. The sound it makes is filthy, a devilish grin finding a place on your lips. “So you can take as much as I want to give you.”

The may night covers around any sounds that spill from the small garage, walls acting as protectors for what really happens behind them.

perm taglist: @rxllingstones @hrtsellie @elliewlums @callmekittenandyourmajesty @gr1mreaperbarbie @imyour-favouritegirl @haiixo @dankpunks @machetegirl109

tags for this fic: @anchoeritic @dyk3ification @prrimordiais @totheblood @shesluxurious @jakesullyslongshlong

[ador3him]

How about Sapnap wearing a cowboy outfit to surprise reader but she walks in on him as he's putting it on...she finds it hot so one thing leads to another and they fuck (and as they're doing it he speaks in his Texan accent- OMG 👀✨) (only if you're comfortable ofc)

✨ -

pairing: sapnap x reader

requested? yes!!! idk if you want to be an anon cause of the emoji but if you do lmk!

summary: sapnap wanted to surprise yn with a fantasy of hers but her surprise is ruined by herself.

content warnings: terrible use of southern terms cuz I'm Aussie, spanking, breeding, praising, SMUT!!!

authors note: IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA

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Sapnap stood in front of his mirror in the room he shared with his long term girlfriend yn. Instead of his usual baseball cap he's wearing a brown cowboy hat tipped down slightly. And instead of his comfy, baggy attire he's wearing a matching brown and white cowboy outfit. The studded boots clicked slightly on the wooden floor as he moved around to look at himself in different angles.

Sapnap went to grab his final touch, a toothpick for his mouth. "Hey Nicky, what are we doing for-" yn stood shocked at the sight before her. "What's this?" She asked moving towards sapnap. Yn always had a fantasy of 'getting freaky' as she liked to say with sapnap in a cowboy outfit and his southern accent. "You like it?" He asked walking towards her. His hips forward slightly creating the well known cowboy walk from the movies. "I love it," She whispers grabbing his cheek and pulling him down to meet his lips with hers. "Good girl," he mumbled into the kiss, his accent getting more noticeable.

Yn reached over to sapnap's hat and grabbed it off his head placing it on her own. "You know what that means, sweetheart?" Sapnap asks softly into yn ear. Yn nodded and started to move them both to their bed pushing him down.

Yn took off her shirt revealing her bra, she also removed her panties under her skirt. "You look so good with my hat on, doll," Sapnap groaned propped up on his elbows. "You look so sexy in your outfit." Yn pressed kisses along his neck as she straddled his lap. She could feel the growing bulge through sapnap's flared pants. "Ride me like a good girl," Sapnap pulled yns hair at the root of her head. Yn moaned out a yes and lifted her hips so sapnap could maneuver out of his pants and boxers.

"Where's the condoms?" Yn moaned as she stroked his tip along her pussy. "I'm gonna breed you, don't need a condom, doll," his accent thickens when he thrusts up into yn. Yn let out a high pitched moan. "fuckin' ride me," sapnap slaps yn ass causing her to pick up the pace. Yn hat tipped down covering her eyes. "Nick," yn gargled out. "Keep ridin'" sapnap snapped grabbing yn throat. "Fuckin' useless," sapnap groaned out and flipped them over.

Yn moaned at the sudden change in friction. Sapnap pounded harshly into yn soaking pussy, his hand tightened around her throat. "Next time you're gonna ride me, do it properly," his hips thrust at every word going deeper into her. His free hand made its way to yn clit rubbing it softly. "Nick, please," yn hips buckled toward his fingers. His fingers sped up slipping on her slick. "Good girl," he whispers spitting down onto her clit. "Cum on my cock, doll," he encouraged. Almost immediately she let out a string of moans and clenched around his cock.

"Nick, please cum in me," she begged as sapnap continued to pound into her throbbing pussy. "Want me to fill ya up?" He taunts. "Please," yn sobbed out. "Put a baby in your pretty lil' tummy?" He said pressing his hand down onto her abdomen increases the pleasure. Sapnap let out one final moan and plunged deeper into yn cunt, thick ropes of cum spilt into her pussy. "Stay still, doll," his accent gets lighter as he comes down from his high.

"I might wear this more often," he says pulling himself out of her pussy. "Yeah, you should, baby," yn yawns grabbing the hat off her head, handing it to Sapnap. Sapnap begins to wipe the slick off her pussy cleaning her up. "Thanks, baby," she smiled readjusting the pillows under her head.

[discoscoob]

✧ ˚ EDELWEISS

˙ ✩°˖🥂⋆｡˚ Kevin Lomax x Mrs. Barksdale!Reader

CW: domestic violence, cheating, swearing, threats of serious violence.

Synopsis: prequel to BREAK THE CHAIN but can be read as a standalone piece. How an unexpected night out and a chance encounter with a charming lawyer leads to the end of your abusive marriage. 5.8k words.

˙ ✩°˖🥂⋆｡˚

“Fuck.” you curse under your breath when you notice you have caught the attention of the pristinely dressed concierge. The mature man approaches you with haste, stopping you before your soaked boots can leave anymore footprints on the lush forest green carpet.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” the subtle arch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does the way his gaze trails up your sodden frame before narrowing at the faint bruise that’s forming on the curve of your cheek.

He makes little effort to hide his offence at your presence, looking down his nose upon you as if you’re an unwanted stray that wandered in searching for scraps.

“Kevin Lomax told me I’d find him here.” you sniffle, noticing how nasally your voice sounds as remnants of the rainfall trail down the bridge of your nose until dripping from the tip. You wipe above your brow with the back of your wrist in an effort to dry away the raindrops as you catch the lingering stares of a few patrons.

“I’m afraid Mr Lomax is currently unavailable, would you like me to take a message for you?” the concierge offers in a polite tone that sounds rehearsed. You breathe a frustrated sigh past your lips in response, reaching your fingers to your damp locks to run them through the tangled strands. The matter is too urgent and too personal to be discussed through a middle man.

“I’ll just wait, thanks.” you intend to find yourself somewhere to sit in the lobby as you wait, perhaps after a visit to the bathroom to at least attempt to dry yourself off in front of the hand dryer.

“Where’s the nearest bathroom?” you barely manage to ask before he opens his mouth.

“Only paying guests are permitted to use our facilities.” the tone he uses makes it clear that your presence is not welcome at the hotel. After the night you have had, it’s enough to provoke a reaction that might appear overdramatic to anyone unaware of what you have been through. For that reason, you gulp back the tears that you feel creeping towards your waterline, leaving your chest feeling heavy and your throat feeling tight.

Turning your attention to the paneled windows, the rain cascades against them, making the view beyond barely visible. Surely there is an umbrella sitting unclaimed in lost property that the concierge could at least offer you, before he carelessly shoos you back out into the downpour.

“Y/N?” the familiar melody of Kevin’s southern drawl speaking your name leaves your heart swelling with relief, bringing with it a sense of safety and comfort that you have been aching for all night.

Standing behind you, Kevin was clearly more prepared for the elements than you were, his body covered with a longline trench coat while the wooden handle of his folded wet umbrella hangs neatly over his left forearm.

Despite the fact you want nothing more than to sink into his warm embrace, you somehow manage to hold yourself back as he steps up alongside you, his sharp stare trained pointedly on the concierge.

“Evening, Hector. I see you have already met my guest, Mrs Barksdale. I have no doubt you will ensure she is provided with the utmost care during her stay. She’ll need an immediate laundry service; I wouldn’t want her catching a cold from standing around in these wet clothes any longer than necessary.” Kevin’s authoritative tone leaves no room for discussion, and you won’t deny the delight you feel at the sight of the concierge stammering to please the smooth talking lawyer.

“Of course, sir.” you hear his overly polite response, but with a gentle hand resting on your lower back, Kevin is already leading you towards the elevators.

“Pretentious snob.” you mumble under your breath, earning a subtle smirk from Kevin, whose eyes are trained on the light above the elevator indicating the floor it’s on, his sharp jawline angled slightly upward.

As soon as you’re alone together in the elevator, Kevin’s cool facade evaporates. He carefully cradles your face in his soft hands, with the delicacy with which one would hold a fragile porcelain doll. His eyes overflow with what you recognise as shame and regret as his thumb lightly traces over the bruise on your cheek.

“That night at the bar, I should’ve never let you go back to that scumbag. I had the chance to get you out there and then. I just let it slip by.” although he is clearly trying to maintain a gentle tone for your sake, there’s an undeniable edge of frustration to his voice.

“It was my choice to stay.” you remind him, refusing to let him blame himself for something that was beyond his control.

With an unreadable expression, he nudges you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest and his arms wrap around your shoulders. He doesn’t care that you’re leaving damp patches on his expensive clothes, he needs to hold you and you need to be held. This is how you both remain until the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open on Kevin’s floor.

˙ ✩°˖🥂⋆｡˚

After a grueling day in court, Kevin is searching for some anonymity in a dimly lit smoky bar that’s a far cry from the upscale restaurants he usually frequents, where everyone knows his name. His latest case, involving a former mayor, has left him rattled, for the first time in a while he is genuinely worried that his winning streak might come to an end. He is certain a few stiff drinks will sort him out, allowing him to take his mind off of it for a few hours and wake up in the morning with either a hangover or a fresh perspective.

Finishing his latest drink in one big gulp, Kevin decides it’s time for him to step out of the suffocating and stuffy atmosphere of the bar and get some fresh air. Pushing through the exit, he tugs on the knot of his silk tie, loosening it enough so it no longer feels restrictive as he welcomes the cool night air into his lungs.

Fumbling through his pockets, Kevin searches for his pack of cigarettes with inhibited coordination. He shelters the flame of his lighter from the breeze with one hand as he lights up before taking a long drag as he leans himself against the brick wall, letting his eyes scan the darkened and almost completely vacant parking lot.

Kevin’s eyes narrow at the sight of an arguing couple next to a parked pick up truck, his attention particularly focused on the woman, as he breathes out a puff of smoke that quickly gets carried away by the breeze. Even from a distance, in his inebriated state, he recognises her as the woman he met at the country club the weekend prior.

He watches her briskly walk away, her arms crossed over her chest as the man follows in pursuit, it only takes him a few long strides before he roughly grabs her upper arm and yanks her towards him.

In response she beats against his chest in an attempt to struggle free from his grip. When the man raises his hand to strike her, Kevin flicks his cigarette aside and darts towards them, his polished crocodile boots kicking up the dirt with each step.

You clench your eyes shut, bracing for the impact of Donnie’s palm against your cheek, but all you feel is the rush of cool air as Donnie is shoved off of you. Hearing the scuffle against the gravelly ground, you shuffle backwards before your eyes shoot open to reveal your husband being pinned against his own truck by none other than Kevin Lomax. Your heart sinks straight to the pit of your stomach.

“If you wanna lay your hands on someone, why don’t you try me? ‘Cause I figure a man who beats on someone smaller than him ain’t gotta be all that tough.” Kevin growls through gritted teeth, his fists grip the collar of Donnie’s unbuttoned flannel shirt as he holds him against the side of the truck. His face is so close to your husband’s that his forehead brushes against the peak of Donnie’s worn trucker cap.

Despite his efforts to hide it, Donnie is visibly caught off guard by Kevin’s unexpected intrusion. A look of shock momentarily passes over his rugged features before he masks it with a taunting grin. His dilated pupils trail over Kevin’s far more polished appearance, noticing how his perfectly tailored pinstripe suit, Rolex watch and polished boots stand out against the grungy backdrop of the roadside dive bar.

“The fuck a rich boy like you know ‘bout being tough?” Donnie jabs in his gruff baritone timber, his dialect thicker and harsher than Kevin’s gentle southern drawl. His smirk widens with mockery as he begins reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. “You reckon you’re a real knight in shinin’ Armani, do ya? Y’oughta keep mindin’ y’own business ‘fore you get yourself hurt.”

You hear the click of Donnie’s switchblade before you catch sight of him holding the point against Kevin’s stomach. You immediately feel like there’s something heavy lodged in your throat, your muscles ache to jump in and intervene but your bones feel like lead, leaving you paralysed with fear.

Kevin takes a fleeting glance down at the blade that’s pressed threateningly against his stomach and you notice the way the muscles in his jaw tighten before he releases his grip on Donnie’s flannel with a rough shove. Reluctantly taking a step back, Kevin turns his attention to you, his hardened features softening faintly.

“Donnie-” your voice is timid and your steps are cautious, as if approaching a wild beast. As soon as you carefully rest your hand on his wrist belonging to the hand gripping the knife, he harshly shoves you away with his elbow.

“Stay the fuck outta this! I’ll deal with you later.” he narrows his vicious gaze on you as you stumble back, shrinking in on yourself.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare speak to her like that, you hear me?” Kevin bristles at the sight of Donnie’s aggression towards you, his temper flaring as he takes another step forward without any regard for his own safety.

“I’m her goddamn husband! I’ll speak to my wife however I damn well please!” Donnie shoots his glare back towards Kevin, his eyes darkened under the shadow of his cap, his knuckles almost turning white from his harsh grip on the knife.

“Your wife?” Kevin repeats quietly, an unmistakable look of disbelief crosses over his features until his eyes land on the wedding ring that you hadn’t been wearing the last time he met you. Your heart pounds frantically against your ribcage, you’re hardly able to meet his gaze when he glances towards you with an unspoken question in his gaze. All you can do is silently plead for him to keep his mouth shut.

“C’mon, I need another goddamn drink.” Donnie grumbles, flipping his switchblade shut before pocketing it. He either didn’t hear or doesn’t care about what Kevin said, he throws his burly arm over your shoulders and tugs you back towards the bar. Having more to drink is the last thing he should be doing but you know arguing is pointless. As Donnie drags you away you look over your shoulder at Kevin, his soft gaze lingering on you.

“I can help you get away from him.” Kevin’s deep voice stops you in your tracks, leaving you frozen halfway out the ladies toilet. The dimly lit hallway is completely isolated, except for Kevin, his tall frame leans against the wall with his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

Astonished he even has the balls to stick around here after Donnie held him at knifepoint, you’re momentarily stunned with your jaw slightly agape, until your instincts kick in and you survey the secluded hallway again. Once you’re certain the coast is clear, you grab Kevin by his loose tie and tug him into the ladies with you. His wide eyes would be comical in any other situation as he stumbles in after you.

“Are you following me?” you confront him as soon as you’re alone with him, wondering what reason someone like him would have for being here.

“No.” is his short and simple response, he almost seems bewildered by the question, evidenced by the small crease between his brows and his downturned lips.

“You don’t exactly belong in a place like this.” you point out with your gaze running down his frame, you’re positive he is the only man here dressed in a suit and it makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

“And you don’t belong with someone like him.” Kevin shoots right back at you, his sympathetic tone is woven with an unmistakable hint of frustration as he tenderly grasps your shoulders and dips his gaze until your eyes are level and your foreheads almost touch. Unable to stand the intensity, you swallow the shame, hoping to bury it deep down somewhere you can’t feel it, and you look away.

“Does he hit you often?” his voice is a hushed murmur, you can smell the alcohol lingering on his breath as it brushes against your cheek. Your words are lodged in your throat, refusing to leave your mouth that suddenly feels like a desert.

“That’s why you reacted the way you did, when you bumped into me at the country club, ain’t it?” Kevin continues when you don’t respond. “It had nothing to do with my reputation. God, you must constantly feel like you’re walking on eggshells.”

When he notices how closed off you’re becoming, he steps back and clears his throat. Kevin takes a moment to collect himself and reevaluate his approach, turning slowly on the spot, he runs a hand down his face.

“I meant what I said.” he softly speaks, maintaining his distance this time. “I can help you get away from him. Come with me.” he makes it sound so easy.

“I can’t.” you murmur, it feels like your heart is slowly sinking into quicksand, leaving a cavity in your chest. “I have to go, Donnie will be wondering where I am.”

“Wait. Please.” Kevin’s voice is a soft spoken plea as he steps in front of you, the last thing he wants to do is frighten or intimidate you, especially after witnessing the way Donnie grabbed you when you tried to walk away from him. He doesn’t want to be like that.

When you halt in front of him, Kevin breathes a sigh of relief as he pulls a business card and a fountain pen from his pocket. His brows crease in concentration as he scribbles something down on the back of his business card and then offers it to you between his fore and middle finger.

“I’ve written the name of my hotel on the back. If you change your mind or you need somewhere safe to get away from him, I’ll be there.” Kevin tells you sincerely before he lets you go.

˙ ✩°˖🥂⋆｡˚

The steam from the hot water floats up and surrounds you with its calming lavender infused scent as you sink under the soapy cloud of bubbles. Your eyes slip shut as every aching muscle in your body begins to loosen up and relax and the hot water kills off the chill that has been clinging to your bones. All while, the gentle patter of the rain taps rhythmically against the bathroom window.

Kevin has already sent your soaked clothes away to be laundered and now he sits on the marble tiles, beside the porcelain clawfoot bathtub. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt are rolled up past his elbows and his suspenders hang slack from the waistband of his dark suit trousers.

“Better?” the soft murmur of his voice echoes through the room as his strong, skilful hands soothingly massage the lathered soap into your shoulders.

“Much.” your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze you silently convey your gratitude with a faint lingering smile. Kevin leans closer and his soft lips press a tender kiss against your damp forehead.

A comfortable silence rests over the moment, allowing you both time to settle into the embrace of each other’s company. Kevin is the first to break the silence again.

“The night I met you, how’d you get away from him?” Kevin leans his forearms on the edge of the tub, working as a cushion for his chin that he rests on top. You mirror his position from inside the bathtub.

“Donnie was away with his workmates on a hunting trip.” you begin to explain. “He had left me with some money, just enough for some essentials while he was away, so ending up at the country club wasn’t even something that I expected to happen. But I bumped into my old friend from college at the grocery store, I hadn’t seen her in ages because Donnie had been keeping me pretty isolated. She wanted us to spend some proper time together so she invited me out to the club. When I declined, I think she could tell it was because I couldn’t afford it because she offered to put me on her tab. She also suggested taking my wedding ring off…”

˙ ✩°˖🥂⋆｡˚

“Who knows, maybe a handsome stranger will buy you a drink or two. Just take that off and let them think you’re available.” she whispers as her eyes linger on your wedding ring and your eyes widen in shock.

“Mia, I can’t!” you immediately protest, while glancing around anxiously as if you’ve already been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Oh come on, Y/N! Lighten up, since when did letting someone buy you a drink become a crime? It’s just a bit of harmless fun.” Mia laughs off your protest with a dismissive gesture of her hand.

Although your jaw is still slack at Mia’s sheer audacity, you can hardly stop the small smile that starts to tug at the corner of your lips. Maybe a little act of rebellion is exactly what you need.

Following Mia’s advice, you leave your wedding ring behind at home but the phantom weight of the band lingers around your finger as Mia navigates you through the country club with ease. Her arm is comfortably linked with yours while she smiles and shares pleasantries with the other guests, floating by with a natural grace and charisma that you can only dream of possessing. Meanwhile, your eyes dart around the room anxiously, half-expecting Donnie to bulldoze through the door at any moment and drag you back home by your hair.

“Honey, you don’t need to look so nervous.” Mia chuckles softly, unaware of the paranoia that’s contaminating your mind. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

Despite Mia’s best efforts to engage you in conversations throughout the night, you feel like you’re under scrutiny, unable to shake the feeling that every guest is a potential informant.

In a desperate need to escape your spiraling anxieties, you excuse yourself so quietly you’re certain nobody notices before hastily making your way to the nearest exit. You push through the glass panel double doors to the patio, with the urgency of someone surfacing for air after running out of oxygen.

In your haste, you collide with something — or rather someone — solid. The impact sends you stumbling backwards with no hope of catching your balance, you hear the unmistakable sound of a glass shattering as your arms flail and your stomach sinks until soft but firm hands grasp your left elbow and right wrist to steady you.

Your eyes widen in horror as you notice the shattered glass at your feet and the small puddle left by the drink it had contained. A string of apologies are immediately tumbling between your lips, the words stumbling over each other as you stammer and trip over them. After years of tip-toeing around your husband’s volatile temper, this knee-jerk reaction was your natural reflex to any accident or misstep.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” your words trail to a halt as your eyes flash up to meet the face of the man whose drink was now soaking into the patio.

You’re rendered speechless at the sight of the strikingly handsome stranger before you, his clean-cut and elegant fashion, impeccably styled hair and close shave speak to his attention to detail, everything about him is the absolute pinnacle of perfection.

But what sets him apart is the gentle warmth radiating from his captivating burnt umber gaze that lacks any trace of anger or hostility. For the first time tonight your overactive mind is silenced, utterly mesmerised by the unmistakable kindness etched on the gentleman’s charming features.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” his soothing deep voice lulls your focus back to the moment as his hands on your wrist and elbow give a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “There’s no harm done.”

He hardly seems to notice the shards of broken glass at his feet with his focus entirely on your distress, his concern catches you off guard. It’s a stark contrast to the hostility and put downs you’re more accustomed to. His gentle demeanour instantly draws you in and calms your senses.

“But I- I made a mess…” you glance down at the consequence of your clumsiness shattered over the patio before you attempt to crouch down and clean up the broken glass with your bare hands.

His grip around your elbow instantly tightens, not unkindly, stopping you from moving any further. The corner of his lips turned downward with concern, “Woah! Don’t!” the worry in his tone catches your attention and your eyes flash up towards him. “You’ll cut yourself.”

Your perplexed gaze lingers on the gentleman like he’s an incomplete puzzle you’re unable to solve, as he prioritises your safety over his spilt drink or the mess you made. He seems to notice your confusion and a lopsided smile stretches at the corner of his lips in amusement. Just as you think he’s about to make some teasing remark, he catches the attention of a passing staff member while digging into his pocket to fish out his wallet.

“Would you mind taking care of that?” he casually nods towards the shattered glass with a polite yet authoritative tone, while gently guiding you to take a step away from it. You’re momentarily distracted by the crisp bills that flutter between him and the attentive waiter. “And here — for your trouble.”

“Certainly, Mr Lomax.” the waiter nods, gratefully accepting the tip before running off to find a dustpan and brush.

The generous tip earns a subtle raise from your eyebrows, until you hear the waiter say ‘Mr Lomax.’ Upon hearing the familiar name, your eyes immediately flash back towards the charming stranger. It doesn’t take you long to realise you’re standing in the presence of the renowned lawyer Kevin Lomax, who is currently working a case in Brixton involving the former mayor. You have seen the lawyer’s face splashed across the local newspaper, the black and white grainy images do not do justice to his breathtaking good looks.

“You’re Kevin Lomax?” your words tumble out in a dumbfounded murmur, while you struggle to process the reality of the moment.

“Guilty as charged.” his cocky smirk is accompanied by a playful glimmer in his eyes and there’s an unmistakable tone of pride woven into his deep melodic voice. “It seems like you were expecting me to bite your head off over our little collision back there. Is my reputation really that bad?”

“I…” you feel the heat creep up your neck and warm your cheeks, embarrassed by your overreaction. Although it had been nothing to do with Kevin’s reputation, you can see why he would jump to that conclusion. The papers described him as ruthless and cutthroat, claiming it’s the reason he has won so many notable cases.

“Rest assured, I only bite other lawyers.” Kevin teases while flashing a disarmingly charming smile at you. The sincerity in his eyes signifies that he doesn’t hold your reaction against you nor is he truly offended by it.

His gentle attempt to lighten the mood melts away your nerves and even provokes a smile, this seems to impress Kevin and encourage him to add an afterthought. “Not pretty ladies like yourself… at least not before learning their name.”

While your breath hitches and that heat begins to creep back up your neck, you sputter for a moment, trying to catch your words before his captivating smile melts them away like snowflakes under the sun. This man is definitely a charmer and you wonder if his interest is as sincere as it seems, or perhaps he’s merely a player. You’re literally a married woman. Your conscience scolds you, reminding you that you’re in no position to pass judgment.

“Y/N Barksdale.” you finally let your name slip past your lips, your heart fluttering as Kevin’s lopsided smile stretches and he holds out his hand to you, appearing to offer you a handshake, but instead he raises your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles.

“Y/N.” his deep voice purrs as his eyes light up with intrigue. “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of seeing your face here before, I’m certain I would’ve remembered a one as beautiful as yours.”

Your lips remain parted for longer than a moment as pleasant flutters battle with the anxious knots in your stomach, creating an almost overwhelming sensation that leaves you momentarily lost for words. He carefully turns your hand to face upwards and begins to slowly stroke his thumb over your pulse point. The gentle caress and soothing circles cause goosebumps to rise up your bare arms, sending warm shivers through your body. The pleasant sensation invites you to lean into his touch, as the tension starts to evaporate from your muscles.

“I’m actually not a member of the country club.” the almost hypnotic state you're in allows the words to flow freely. “My friend invited me.”

“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing you here more often.” you notice the subtle pout on Kevin’s lips as he shuffles closer in his polished boots. “We’ll just have to find a way to make your night extra special, won’t we?”

You struggle to recall the last time someone spoke to you with such promise and affection in their voice. You meet his swoon-worthy gaze, his face is much closer to yours now and your heart begins to flutter like a caged bird.

“How do you intend to do that?”

“Have you been to the rooftop bar yet?” Kevin smirks delightedly when you shake your head, you didn’t even know there was a rooftop bar. Smoothly lacing his fingers between yours, he gives a gentle tug urging you to follow him. “Come with me.”

As you walk back through the country club, guided by Kevin, you pass by Mia who raises her brows in clear approval and gives you a wide smile and a subtle, encouraging thumbs up before you disappear into the elevator with the suave gentleman.

During the short ride in the elevator, Kevin casually moves his hand to your lower back and guides you closer until the subtle scent of his cologne lures you to lean in, captivated by the blend of earthy woods and seductive spices.

With a ding, the reflective doors glide open to reveal the panoramic views of the private rooftop, which is only occupied by a handful of other quiet guests, their hushed voices barely audible above the live pianist’s elegant melody. Raising your hand to your mouth, you swallow down an audible gasp at the breathtaking view. The sun sets behind the horizon blanketed by evergreen trees and the orange, pink and purple hues of the painted sky reflect on the surface of the tranquil pond below while you’re illuminated under the golden glow of hanging lanterns.

“I never knew Brixton could look so beautiful.” you whisper, your words are swept up by the gentle evening breeze. Kevin’s presence sheds a new light on this tired old town, which has felt more like a prison lately, unveiling a hidden beauty you never knew existed in your quiet hometown.

Despite the serene views before him, Kevin’s gaze lingers on you, pleased to know that he is the one who brought you here to experience this. The sight of your pure and innocent awe captivates him, drawing him closer.

His fingers brush against yours, lightly at first, before encompassing your whole hand and guiding you into a twirl under his arm. His eyes unashamedly trace the length of your frame from head to toe, absorbing every detail before his arm snatches your waist and draws you in tight.

Your breath hitches, your hands instinctively land on his chest to brace yourself. You only have a fraction of a second to glimpse up and catch his dilated pupils lingering on your lips, before he swoops down to capture them with his own.

He tentatively coaxes you to reciprocate the kiss and it only takes you a moment to lean in. Your hands stroke up around his shoulders, until your fingers are interlocking around the back of his neck and you're tilting your head to invite him to deepen the kiss, which he gladly accepts with an approving moan. His long fingers delve into your locks, cradling the back of your head as he nibbles teasingly on your bottom lip, you can feel the curve of his smirk before he pulls back.

“Well, I’d say you’ve earned yourself a drink.”

“You ever think about quitting?” you mumble softly, sitting across from Kevin at one of the tables on the rooftop, the sun has long since set to reveal a blanket of twinkling stars above you. Kevin is frozen with a cigarette between his lips, the flame from his lighter dancing in the gentle breeze barely an inch away from the tip. Kevin’s eyes focus on you for a beat, as if contemplating your query, before reluctantly flipping his lighter shut with a click and pulling the cigarette from his mouth with a faint chuckle.

“We all have our vices.” Kevin shrugs, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, surprised by your soft spoken words. He stuffs the cigarette back into its pack before returning the pack to his inner breast pocket. “What’s yours?”

You hesitate, your thoughts drifting to Donnie, partially aware he is just as addictive and harmful for you, if not worse. Who are you kidding? He’s definitely worse. You lower your gaze to the reflective tabletop. Your marriage is a dependency, one you’re unable to break free from despite the trouble it causes. Reluctantly you glance back up towards Kevin, finding his gaze still lingering on yours, his intrigue only heightened by your lengthy pause.

“My fear of being alone, I guess.” you finally break the silence with a shrug and a half-hearted smile. The words feel inadequate, but they’re all you can manage without revealing too much.

Kevin observes you over the rim of his crystal tumbler as he takes a sip of his Old Fashioned, with a subtle shade of sympathy lingering in his gaze. After returning his drink to the table, he carefully reaches towards you, gently resting his palm on top of yours, his touch cold from the condensation transferred from his glass still lingering on his skin, but you don’t mind.

“Well, you’re not alone tonight.” although he doesn’t say it, there’s an understanding in his eyes that indicates he can sense you are hiding deeper, more painful truths and the flicker of a frown on his face speaks more than his words ever could. He watches your features soften as he traces his thumb across your knuckles, gently caressing your hand to provide you with comfort.

˙ ✩°˖🥂⋆｡˚

“I’ll help you divorce him.” Kevin’s hushed voice is muffled into your hair, his lips brush against the crown of your head. You’re safe, cradled in his strong arms, cushioned by his bare chest as he leans back against the soft headboard of the king size hotel bed.

Snuggled up in one of his freshly laundered cotton white button ups, the fabric is soft against your skin and your hands are buried underneath the too long sleeves. “If that’s what you want.” he adds quieter, hoping that you’re not considering going back to him.

“I think your fees are a little bit out of my price range.” you joke half-heartedly. Any lawyers fees are out of your price range since Donnie controls all the money and you have no income of your own. As it begins to dawn on you how much independence you lack outside your marriage, you begin to feel an unpleasant heaviness on your chest until Kevin’s voice steals your focus again.

“Don’t worry ‘bout my fees.” his fingertips trail idly through the tangled locks of your nearly dry hair, stroking the loose strands away from your face and tucking them neatly behind your ear. “I’ll work pro bono.”

“Why are you helping me?” it’s almost sickeningly ironic that in order to escape a marriage where you were trapped by your reliance on Donnie, you now must transfer that reliance to someone else, even if only temporarily. At a time when trust doesn’t come to you so easily anymore, you need to trust that Kevin’s intentions are pure.

“‘Cause I can.” his thumb traces lightly over your cheek, his features hardening as his focus lingers on the red and purple discolouration. “I have the power and resources at my disposal to help you get away from that bastard. Why wouldn’t I put them to good use?” his brows tug downward as his soft fingertips trail along the underside of your jaw, guiding your attention towards him. “You do wanna leave him, right?”

“Well, I did throw my ring to the bottom of Donnie’s lake.” you admit while putting your hand over Kevin’s chest and resting your chin on top. You recall how liberating it felt when you cast the small gold band into the murky waters, signifying the end of your marriage. There would be no going back now.

“You did?” a lazy smirk pulls at the corners of Kevin’s mouth as he pushes the long sleeves of his borrowed shirt back to interlock his fingers with yours. “I’d loved to have seen that.” he rasps proudly, before bringing your hand to his lips, trailing sweet kisses along your knuckles. His lips continue their journey, down your delicate wrist, until gently rolling you over into the firm comfort of the mattress.

“This alright?” the intimate volume of his honeyed voice reaches your ears and you nod against the plush pillow.

He caresses a featherlight kiss to the apple of your cheek and you let your eyelids fall shut.

[oneforthemunny]

knight in shining leather |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: based off this ask- heyy!! i was reading you bouncer eddie series and i love it so much :((((. if you take requests could you maybe do a little blurb of reader being bothered by a creep and eddie being the knight in shining leather that he is helps her. this is such a lame plot i'm sry. pls just write anything for bouncer eddie when you have the time it would be so cool!! sending hugs

reposting from my deleted blog <3

contains: possessive!eddie, jealous!eddie, a little dark!eddie not towards reader, creepy men, cat calling, language, oral fem & male rec, throat fucking, squirting, rough p in v sex, hickeys, creampie. minors dni.

It was a slow night at The Hideout, especially for a Friday. All the college kids had gone back to school for the spring, and it was too cold for others to venture out, snow and ice covering the ground. But in any weather, you could always count on your regulars showing up on Friday nights. The regulars, who would ski if they had to, to make it down to the bar nestled in downtown Hawkins.

It was you, Eddie, and Ellen for the night. Tony and Valerie had shown up, but cut earlier with the lack of customers. You were bartending, taking care of the familiar patrons, while Ellen was the manager on duty for now, helping clean and keep the jukebox rolling. Eddie was at the door, in all black of course, tight beanie around his head to fight the cold, wild curls flying out around his face.

"Can I get another sweetheart?" Roy slurred from the other end of the bar, shaking his empty glass your way. You smiled, grabbing another glass, tilting it to stop the foam as you filled the beer.

You added beer number five to his tab before sliding it to him, switching the full glass out for his empty. "Your friends not joining you tonight?" You asked him, wiping the counter down with the spare rag.

Roy blew air out his mouth. "No, pieces of shits bailed on me. Can ya believe that?"

You giggled, getting his a fresh bowl of peanuts. "That's tough. Sounds like you need some new friends." You chided in cheery, playful conversation, filling another glass for the man on the other end who indicated he wanted one.

"You wanna be my friend, baby?" Roy blubbered, eyes glazed with a sloppy smile.

You snorted, lifting a brow at Roy. "Depends how much you tip tonight." You shot back with a tight lipped smile, walking to serve your other customer.

Roy howled, slapping the wooden top of the bar, nearly falling out of his stool. Eddie looked over, face stoic, hard, like it always was when he was working. He needed to be tough, or at least appear to be, especially with this crowd.

They were harmless, usually, drunks that liked to spend their hard-earned dollars tossing booze down their throats. Sometimes, they'd get a little out of hand. Eddie would have to intervene or call them a cab.

Eddie turned when the door opened, the frigid, biting wind of the night slipping in with the person who opened it. Eddie looked at the ID the man presented, but he really didn't need to; the guy looked Wayne's age.

"There a cover tonight?" The man asked, eyes already blood shot, swaying in his snow covered work boots.

Eddie shook his head. "Nah, not tonight."

The man nodded, stumbling over to Roy, clapping the man loudly on the back. The two had a rather loud, slurring reunion, stumbling in and out of stools. Ellen cut her eyes from you then back to Eddie, rolling her eyes.

Eddie's lips pressed in a tight line, looking over at you, the way you smiled, laying down a coaster, leaning forward on the bar to get his order.

"What's good here, huh, angel?" The man slurred back at you.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "Well, your friend here likes our draft." You motioned to Roy. "But that'll depend what you're in the mood for."

"I'm in the mood for something tasty." The man licked his lips, eyeing you. "You on the menu?"

You did scoff at the comment. "No, but I make a mean old fashioned. You want one of those? Or are you more of a light liquor kinda guy?" You asked, trying to shift the conversation and get away from him. He wasn't a regular, you weren't sure about him.

"I'm whatever kinda guy you want me to be, baby." He grinned all sloppy, swaying towards you. "Make me whatever you want."

You nodded, rolling your eyes when you walked away. You closed out a tab for another before starting his. You smiled at the customer, Johnny, when you handed him his tab, thanking him when he left you his usual 20% tip.

Eddie watched you carefully, nodding at the two leaving with a tiny smile. You reached for your bourbon, bending over to grab a glass out of the bottom shelf.

The man beside Roy let out a loud, ear piercing wolf whistle, cackling into the other man after. You felt a cold prick run down your spine, face flushing.

"Goddam, baby, I'll have you make as many drinks as you want if you stay bent over like that!" The man whooped. "Get to see that ass all night. No wonder you love this place so much, Roy!" He laughed, slamming his hand on the bar, so the glass jumped.

"Hey, easy there," Ellen warned, raising a brow at the two. "Roy get your friend under control."

Roy nodded, lifting a hand in apology, as the other guy bristled, eyes narrowing to focus, teeth gritting and snarling. "'M not doin' anything wrong, you fuckin' bitch. Stay outta it." He snarled.

You felt your heart hammer, looking at Ellen then at Eddie. Eddie stood, fists clenched as he walked, slow and purposeful behind the two, heavy boots clanking on the wooden, creaky floors.

"Hey, watch it, man," Eddie growled. "Settle down or get the fuck out."

The man turned, swaying slightly, looking at Eddie before scoffing, turning back to you. "Hey sugar tits, you got my drink, honey?" He slurred.

"I'm finishing it up." You said slowly, warily looking at Ellen to see if she'd give you the cut off sign. "Tryna make sure it's perfect."

"If it's coming' from you, I'm sure it is." He smirked.

He looked at Roy, nudging the man drunkly before pushing his coaster purposefully off the counter. "Whoops." He laughed, snorting slightly. "Hey, sexy baby, could you pick that up for me? Ole klutz over here knocked it over." He clapped Roy on the back.

Eddie's jaw grit tight, looking at you then the man. He could feel his blood boiling already, hands tingling from the way he had them clenched. You looked at Eddie, rolling your eyes and walking to where the coaster fell, bending over and picking it up.

The man whistled again, clapping his hands as you flushed, furious and embarrassed. "Goddam, baby, you gonna keep teasing me like that?" He asked, laughing and leaning towards you. "Stick that pretty little ass out for me one more time, huh? Better yet, come over here and let me see it. Or do I need to drop something again?"

"Alright," Ellen snapped, walking towards the two men. "They're gone. Eddie, get them outta here."

Eddie was already stepping towards them. Roy's face dropped slightly as the other snarled. "The fuck you kickin' us out for?" He snapped. "I haven't even got my goddam drink!"

"Yeah, and you're not gettin' one." Eddie growled. "Out. Now. Before I have to make you." He threatened, boasting his chest to intimidate the older man. Sure, he could take him, drunk and old he wouldn't be an issue.

Roy apologized to you, drunk but sincere, holding his hands up as he tried to coax his friend. The man snarled. "The fuck you gonna do, huh?" He snapped at Eddie. "You gonna... you gonna make me leave, huh, pussy boy?" He laughed mockingly in Eddie's face.

He turned back to you, snarling and mean. "Dumb bitch, 's your fuckin' fault. Walking' around like a goddam whore, just asking' for it, then when you get it you don't want it, huh?" He spat, angry.

Eddie's hands were on his shoulders, yanking him out of the stool. The man fell to his knees, groaning in pain before Eddie had him back up, shoving him out the door.

Eddie pushed the drunken man out the door and into the snowbank on the sidewalk, and he would've smirked when the man groaned in pain if he wasn't so furious. Roy was still inside, covering the tab and apologizing to Ellen and you.

Eddie looked down at the drunk man, trying to twist and move out of the freezing snow. "The fuck you-you-"

Eddie bent down, pushing him back on the ground, teeth bared and a grip on his collar, dangerously close to his neck. His rings were cold, biting against the man's jugular. "I better never see you here or near her again, you understand?" He growled.

The man stammered, lifting his hands gently. Eddie slammed him harder into the ground, the snow sinking around his head. "Understand?"

"Yes, fuck, yes!" The man stuttered. "Jesus, fuck, I-I don't wanna come back here anyways!"

Eddie snarled, shoving him slightly before standing up. "Good." He bit. "Now get the fuck outta here." He turned around, leaving the man to get out of the icy ground.

He nodded curtly to Roy as he left, not listening to his apologies. He was fuming, buzzing, adrenaline shaking and rattling his bones. His jaw still ground together, eyes not meeting yours though he could feel them on him. He needed to calm down before he did.

Ellen came over, checking on him, and checking to make sure they were gone, before patting him on the back. "Go have a drink." She nodded towards the bar. "As soon as these two leave, we'll call it a night, huh? Think that's enough excitement for us all."

Eddie stomped over to the bar where you watched him from the other side, eyes rounded to meet him. "Thank you," You whispered.

Eddie nodded. "Anytime, baby," He grinned, but it didn't meet his eyes.

He was still angry, not at you, but at that disgusting fucker. Who the fuck did he think he was, talking to Eddie's girl like that, talking to you?

You poured him a beer, cutting an orange and placing it on his glass. Eddie sipped it slowly, the tingle in the back of his throat mixed with the alcohol calmed him slightly. You smiled at him, squeezing his hand gently when Ellen wasn't looking, before checking on the other two that still remained at the other end of the bar.

The night moved slow. No one else came in. The final people left, letting you cash out for the night. Eddie helped you stack chairs, while Ellen unplugged the jukebox, the three of you walking to the back where you parked.

Eddie had just climbed in the van, barely putting the key in the ignition to roll over the engine when you pounced on him. Hands on either side of his face, pressed against his side, lips attaching to his, hard and needy like he was your life line.

Eddie faltered for a moment, movements stuttering before he kissed you back, his own hands finding your waist, the back of your neck, pulling you as close to him as you could.

Eddie's brows furrowed when you pulled back, eyes canning your face, your rounded eyes, blown pupils, bottom lip ticked between your teeth. "What was that for?" Eddie asked, shocked, amused.

You shrugged, placing your hand over the zipper of his jeans. "I dunno, just a thank you, I guess." You grinned, eyes batting at him. "For saving me tonight. My hero." You purred, squeezing him through the rough fabric of his jeans, grinning when he groaned low and throaty.

Eddie flew over the icy roads, squirming under your touch the entire way. You palmed him gently, slowly, pressing kisses up and down his neck, shoulder, collarbone, cheek. Nuzzling your nose against him before trailing the tip of your tongue down his exposed skin.

You were throbbing between your legs, had been since Eddie had grabbed the man so aggressively- so protectively. The adrenaline and sheer primeness of it all made you soak, your head reeling and fuzzy as you fumbled through the rest of your shift. He had done that for you, was protective over you.

You and Eddie stumbled through his trailer, his boot shutting the door behind him, teeth gnashing, lips mushing, hands roaming and groping. You pushed Eddie back onto the couch by his sternum, dropping to your knees, hands fumbling to undo his belt and zipper.

Eddie grinned, brows lifted in amusement. Gone was the anger, the disrespect he felt from that man. He worried that you would be hurt, upset by what he said, maybe even angry at him for being so rough. Instead, here you were, ready to jump his bones, needy and aching all for him.

"Easy, baby," Eddie muttered, ringed hands finding your hair as you freed him frantically from his boxers.

Your soft hands held his cock, thick and long, oozing already from your teasing touches in the car. You wasted no time licking a long stripe up the base to his tip, swirling the salty pre-cum around your tongue over the head. Eddie groaned, head tilting back against the couch cushions.

You pumped his length, sucking what you could of the thick head down your throat. "Atta girl, that's my girl, fuck," Eddie groaned, gripping your hair a little tighter so you whimpered, vibrations tickling down his shaft to his sac making him tense, bucking gently in your mouth.

You gagged gently at the intrusion and Eddie let out a near pornographic moan. "Fuck, baby, can I- shit- can I fuck your throat? Please?" He begged, half lidded and lust filled.

You clenched your legs, nodding with his cock still in your mouth as he grinned down at you. That's how you ended up, head lolling off the arm of the couch, mouth open and gripping Eddie's thighs as he thrusted into your throat, relishing in how you gagged and swallowed.

"Fuck, baby, you're doing so good for me. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Good little girl." Eddie praised, eyes pinched close in pleasure.

Tears pricked your eyes, breathing slow to try and match his pace, nails digging into his hairy thighs. Eddie's abs clenched, pulling out of you slowly, before fisting himself.

He moved so his balls were in your face, heavy and hitting your nose, but you knew what he wanted, instinctively sucking them gently, tongue rolling over the skin.

Eddie's breath stuttered, grunting as he jacked himself quicker, leaning over you. "'M gonna cum, baby. Just like that, oh fuck, just like that. 'M-" Eddie groaned before you felt the hot spurts on your chest, your tummy.

Eddie's chest heaved, hunched over you, bracing himself with the back of the couch. You looked up at him, eyes meeting his through his curly bangs.

Eddie grinned at you, reaching down to kiss you, hard. He didn't waste time walking around to the other end of the couch, pulling you by your legs so your hips were on the arm of the couch, kneeling down to kiss your inner thighs with sloppy, wet kisses.

You moaned, arms above your head as you grabbed at the couch, back arching when Eddie licked a long, fat stripe through your folds, circling around your clit.

"Oh!" You whined, clenching when he kitten licked your clit, one hand on your lower tummy, pressing gently, the other adding a finger and pumping slowly in and out of you.

Normally, he'd tease you. get you whiny, teary-eyed, the way it drove him crazy, but not tonight. He was urgent, needy, devouring you from the inside out like a madman.

You felt it building quickly, the sweet release that threatened to take over you any minute. The way Eddie was sucking, nibbling at your achy clit, his long fingers curling and pumping at a much faster pace, mixed with his other hand pressing on your tummy; you knew you were going to soak him, flood him.

You writhed, hips wiggling to get away, the pleasure overwhelming. Eddie knew just how to work you, toy with your body to get it to do exactly what he wanted. Your eyes rolled back, hands pressing against his hand, but it wouldn't budge.

Eddie rolled your clit between his lips, licking gently while his fingers curled, pressing hard down on your lower belly. You cried out, back arching, legs pushing against his back as you gushed around his fingers, spewing all over him, all over the couch.

Eddie grinned, the squelch of wet liquid around his fingers as he pumped into you still was a melody, your cries and moans music to him. Eddie watched as you bucked, then slowed, legs falling and giving out, melting into the couch with heavy breaths.

Eddie licked you once more, the sweetness of your release making his eyes roll back. He stood over you, wiping his wet, shiny mouth with the back of his hand and you whimpered, legs snapping shut, throbbing again.

He was on top of you in an instant, hands on wither side of your head holding him up. Lips on yours, tongue swirling around your mouth so you could taste your release on him. He kissed down your jaw, neck, collarbones, chest, sucking large bruises as he went. He wanted everyone to see them, to know that you were his.

You moaned, legs wrapping around his waist, hands in his hair as he sucked deep bruises into your tits, biting and sucking at them, then rolling your nipples in his mouth, teeth grazing them slightly so you yelped.

He pushed himself into you without warning, rutting into you fast, hard, deep strokes that had you gasping, clawing down his back, feet dug into the meat of his ass.

Eddie pressed his face into your neck, sucking and nipping the already sensitive skin, marking it up even more. Your eyes rolled back, bodies rubbing together, chaffing skin to skin.

"Fuck, gonna cum inside you, that ok?" Eddie grunted, his nose nuzzling your cheek, lips pressing sloppy kisses to your flushed skin.

You nodded, gripping his arms, biceps bulging in your hands. You drooled at the definition, the inked skin firm and prominent next to you. Eddie snapped his hips flush against yours, smirking when you cried out, burying your face into his neck to try and muffle the pathetic cries falling from your lips.

Eddie snapped his hips a few more time, clenching with a grunt when he spilled inside you. He kept himself inside you as he rode out his high, long, deep breaths, his mouth hovering over your shoulder. You were barely holding onto him, legs still wrapped loosely around him, head swimming with feeling and fullness of him.

Eddie pulled back, brushing his bangs back so he could look at you. Marked up and bruised, mouth shaped red marks all over your neck and chest. He trailed his finger down your neck, over the well of your breasts where he really bit down.

"'M sorry, baby." He muttered to you, cupping your cheek with his hand. He hadn't asked to do that, cleared it with you, and the guilt was setting in. Girlfriends in the past were furious with him when he'd mark them like that, angry that they'd have to cover them up, and he didn't blame them.

You smiled softly, tucking your chin down to look at the damage. "It's alright." You whispered, tired. "I can cover them it's alright."

Eddie shook his head, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I should've asked. I can put a coupla spoons in the freezer. That trick worked in high school-"

He moved out of you, not caring that you were oozing him on the worn fabric of the couch, his cock softer and covered in both your spend. You catch his hand gently, thumb running over his rough knuckles. "Eddie, it's ok. I promise." Your eyes shone up at him, warm and gooey in your own afterglow.

Eddie hesitated. "It's ok." You reassured, bringing his hand to your lips brushing them feathery light over his knuckles. "I-I liked it." You blushed at the admission, nuzzling your nose into his hand to hide your giddy smile.

Eddie's eyes lit up, cupping your jaw with his hand, lifting your gaze to his. He cocked his head to the side, dopey grin on his face. "Yeah? You liked it?" He asked. You nodded. "You like it when I mark you up, huh? Want everyone to know who you belong to?"

You bit your lips, legs shifting uncomfortably. The dull ache between your legs was still there. Eddie knelt down so his nose was touching yours, an intense look in his eyes. "Who do you belong to?" He whispered, sending shockwaves down your spine, shivering against the couch.

Eddie pressed his lips towards yours so they were barely touching, hairs of his bangs tickling your forehead and eyelashes, sweaty against your skin. "Who do you belong to, baby?"

You squirmed against his gaze, feeling a little vulnerable, a little electric with the way he was looking right through you. "You." You whispered, your bottom lip brushing his, leaning in to kiss him.

Eddie pulled back slightly, his hand on your jaw. "Say it again." His eyes were dark again, lust blown, intense.

You shivered, legs clamping together and you could feel him still running out of you, creating a puddle under you. "You, Eddie," You whispered, eyes rounding into his gaze. "I'm yours, Eddie."

Eddie grinned, teeth bared and grip on your jaw tightening just slightly. "That's fuckin' right." He muttered, lips crashing into yours. He moved so you were halfway off the couch, holding onto him for leverage, his grip secure on you. "All mine." He nipped at your bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth.

Eddie moved so he was on the couch, long legs crowding on either side of your hips. He pulled you up gently by your arms, so you were in between his legs, curls ticking your cheeks when he kissed you again. He laid back slowly so you were on top of him, hands gripping your waist, your hips, anywhere he could grab and squeeze.

"My turn now." Eddie grinned, wiggling playfully underneath you. "Mark me up, baby. Show the world I'm yours."

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 2 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.2k of 30k words | 2nd of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a lady’s maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

The next two days were a whirlwind of activity.

Camie’s dresses arrived, neither quite your shape nor your height, and they required a significant amount of modification to make them wearable. Mrs. Utsushimi helped you select one appropriate for the Monomas’ ball, and you focused all your effort on readying it in time, working into the late night to rework its shape, letting out some seams and taking in other hemlines.

Caroline helped as well, though she mostly only knew embroidery, but she saved several hours unpicking stitches, and covering over some of your hasty needle work with neat little embroidered embellishments.

In addition, Caroline had you practicing all manner of things. She had you stumbling around the sitting room, trying to learn an overwhelming number of dance steps. She herded you into the kitchen to observe table manners, how to sip from a spoon and how to select the appropriate silverware for a course. She tried to impart tips on how to move with elegance and propriety, how to curtsy and when and to whom, proper fan etiquette and conversational etiquette.

Your head swam with the unbearable volume of new information— a thousand ridiculous little nothings that apparently added up to everything.

By the time the Monomas’ ball arrived, you were exhausted, having barely slept or eaten a thing in days. You helped the Utsushimis dress and did their hair, then spent an inordinate amount of time struggling with your own. Caroline helped you match a choker with a small paste diamond to your gown, a pale blue muslin dress which bared entirely too much of your neckline for your comfort.

“Good,” Mrs. Utsushimi pronounced when she met you at the doorway, your stomach churning with anxiety. “You look the part, at least.”

This did not help ease your nerves whatsoever. As the carriage pulled into the Monomas’ drive, you had to suppress a wave of nausea.

Inside, things were even worse. The reception room was stuffed with more nobility than you had ever seen in one place. They were all awash in contrasting shades–the men all marvelously outfitted in dark tailcoats, the women in a posy of pale-colored gowns that practically glowed in the candlelight. Jewels sparkled off of slender necks and at the point of every ear, and the soft pad of boots and slippers against the wooden floors created a sort of murmuring undertone that dampened the sound of the space.

Immediately overwhelmed, you clenched your fingers, still raw from sewing. Your calluses caught the inside of your evening gloves and you winced.

You did not belong here.

Caroline helped take your mind off of things by showing you where to collect a dance card, which you quickly filled with nonsense names to prevent you from having to stand up with anyone, though you doubted you’d be asked. Then you followed the Utsushimis nervously to a conspicuous place on the edge of the dance floor, where Caroline could be seen clearly by any prospecting gentleman.

It was a great relief that at least you did not also have to try to tempt a husband, as the very thought of trying to converse with a gentleman made your skin crawl. You did not envy Caroline, whose whole future had to be decided in this one season, who would have to live with her deception exposed shortly thereafter.

Your place in the crowd meant you were also exposed to the other members of the gentry, however, and you were quickly descended on by all manner of Machiavellian mothers, scouting out the new debut to determine if you posed any sort of danger to their own daughters’ prospects.

“You must be Camie,” a woman in an extravagantly outfitted gown bore down on you. It was so begotten with lace and ribbon and netting that you could hardly make out the shape of the woman underneath. She looked friendly enough, but you had been warned by the Utsushimis never to trust a placid expression.

Your heart climbed into your throat, panicking at being so addressed.

“The Lady Cathleen Bate,” Caroline hinted to you, and you dropped a curtsey, hoping you’d gotten it right. Mrs. Utsushimi did not look upset, at any rate.

“Lady Bate,” you said, trying to control the nervous timbre of your voice. It came out high and strangled anyway.

“I must say, you don’t look a thing like your mother and sister,” she observed, and your heart beat double time.

Fuck, obviously you didn’t look anything like the Utsushimis. Why had any of you thought this was a good idea?

“I…take after my father’s coloring,” you supplied hastily, praying to any god who’d listen that she’d never met the man before his passing.

She made a thoughtful noise, a cross between a hum and a harrumph. It was loud enough that it summoned the attention of the other ladies nearby, and very quickly you were inundated with questions and evaluative once-overs by every scheming mother this side of the ballroom. They practically ran through a checklist of your qualifications, sussing out whether you played piano forte, what sort of needlework you did, what kind of education you’d had, and a laundry list of other incredibly pointed questions that made you feel like you could only ever supply the wrong answer.

Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi did their best to help field questions and to give answers where your obvious lack of formal education became a hinderance—really, how many oblique references to Sophocles in the original Greek did one need to make before they concluded their training was superior to yours?–but it was all too overwhelming.

Mrs. Utsushimi seized an opportunity when the next question about your appearance came your way. She tried valiantly to draw attention away from you with a dramatic retelling of her husband’s demise, waving her fan as theatrically as she wielded her handkerchief.

The moment everyone’s attention was turned towards her, you took your chance.

You ducked away from the gaggle of women, worming your way out of the crowd. You tried to take care not to arouse notice, as you’d been informed an unmarried girl wandering about without a chaperone was much too bold. You beelined past the refreshments table, unable to help lifting a glass of lemonade and several apricot cakes for your troubles, and headed for a promising door on the opposite side of the room that you thought might be a closet.

It turned out to let into a library—quiet, dark and still. You could just barely make out the shape of a few low armchairs and spines of the books by the silvery pool of moonlight spilling in through a row of heavily-curtained windows.

You rushed in, and quickly shoved the door closed behind you. A wave of cool relief sent you slumping against it. Shifting your spoils to one hand, you yanked down a glove with your teeth, annoyed at how constricting the fabric was, how hot and clammy it had made your hands, then made quick work of the other one.

“Fuck,” you muttered again, delighting in the rudeness of the sound. Even twenty minutes in this company had been too much–you didn’t know how anyone could bear it. Camie herself would have never lasted. “Oh fuck…what have I got myself into?”

“I’m told it’s called a library,” a low voice intoned from the other side of the room, and you screamed, reflexively flinging your handful of snacks in the direction of the voice.

A tall silhouette ducked your apricot cakes, and the silence that followed could only be interpreted as astonished.

All hells, you were so deeply unqualified for the scheme you’d embroiled yourself in.

“I—I didn’t see you—oh, I’m sorry—” you said, watching the figure take a step towards you. The crack of light from under the door highlighted one grey eye and a mop of white hair, a sliver of fair skin. A man.

The proper thing to do would be to leave. You’d been informed to be caught alone with a man was the height of impropriety–-and here one was. But the thought of going back out there made your stomach churn, and you clutched at the door handle uncertainly.

“You’re not…Lord Monoma, are you?” You asked.

The man’s silver eye narrowed in on you. “No,” he said. His tone was low and smooth.

Well at least you hadn’t offended your host, then.

Before you knew what you were saying, the plea was tumbling out of your mouth. “Please let me hide out in here! I’ll give you anything for use of this room. If I have to go back out there I will die.”

There was another moment of stunned silence, and then the man asked, strangely, “I may go, then?”

You squinted at him in the dark. What in hell was that supposed to mean? You weren’t the gatekeeper of the doorway. And of course he should go, for propriety’s sake.

You quickly stepped aside, gesturing to the door and hoping he could see it in the dim. “All yours, thank you for your generous aid in my time of need.”

But the man made no move to leave, and that silver eye stayed fixed on your face. “You’re certain,” he said flatly.

Just what was he getting at here? Could a girl not get alone time with a glass of lemonade?

“Sir–my lord–I’m not sure of your address, I apologize—” you fumbled. “You may stay or go, but I quite require use of this room. If you will excuse me…”

But he still made no move to leave. “And no one is going to…happen upon us here?” he said, his tone even lower and more disbelieving.

Your anxiety spiked. “You don’t think they will, do you?” You asked worriedly. If you were subjected to one more derisive sneer over your inability to read two thousand year old Greek, you would die of humiliation. You quickly moved towards the drapes at the window, inserting yourself behind one.

“If they look for me, you don’t think I’ll be noticed here, do you?” you asked.

There was only silence again, completely judgmental in its ringing emptiness.

If you were really a lady, you supposed you might feel vaguely offended that a man should treat you thus. But you weren’t here to matchmake, so he could do whatever he liked. You shrugged, sliding down the wall to pull your knees against your chest, and took a sip of your lemonade, thankful you hadn’t flung that at him too.

How embarrassing.

The curtain was suddenly tugged back, however, and the man stared down at you. In the moonlight from the window you could just make out two glittering eyes, the straight line of a handsome nose.

“Who are you?” he asked lowly.

“Camie Utsushimi,” you offered, then wondered if you should have made up another name.

Rudely, he did not offer his name back. “Who are you hiding from?” he asked.

“Lady Cathleen Bate, and every other mother who wants to know if I’m to steal their daughters’ prospects out from under them. As if I could, as if I would!” You said moodily.

The man contemplated this in silence. You sipped your lemonade as he seemed to come to some kind of decision.

He made a sort of long sighing sound out of his nose, then offered quietly, “I too, wish to avoid such judgements…”

His tone was flat, but sincere. You recognized the statement for the peace offering it was.

“We can share the hiding place then,” you allowed. “But you must not tell anyone.”

Those eyes glinted in the moonlight, almost speculatively. “You have my word.”

You handed over your single remaining apricot cake to cement the entente. “An honor doing business with you then, sir—or, my lord…?”

His gloved hand brushed your own as he took the cake from you, and he paused, staring down at your bare fingers.

Your face warmed. Right, the gentry were strange about the intimacy of bare skin.

You quickly shoved your gloves back on, cheeks heating, searching for something to fill the awkward silence.

“So, whose daughter’s prospects are you stealing?” you asked stupidly.

The man coughed suddenly, which sounded suspiciously like it might be covering something like a laugh.

“I rather thought gentlemen were the prospects,” he allowed.

You supposed it would be rude to tell an actual gentleman that he and his ilk should hardly consider themselves such, considering how needlessly troublesome this whole marriage market affair was.

“Yes, well,” you said vaguely. “In that case, make sure you’ve brushed up on your Ancient Greek so your wife may accurately test into your coupling.”

Those eyes glinted down at you. Reflecting the moonlight, they were both pale, but you almost imagined they were different colors—his left eye looked a little bluer, perhaps due to the angle he held his head at.

“Must there be a test?” he asked in that low voice.

“Of course. How else do couples converse, if not in Ancient Greek?” you asked.

Those eyes creased, as if the man were smiling. He said something, a string of sounds you couldn’t place—until you realized.

You rolled your eyes, taking an angry sip of your lemonade.

“Yes, a wonderful party,” you answered, as if you’d at all understood what he’d said.

A huff of breath left him, and you knew you were being laughed at.

“Rest assured, I am entirely unsuitable for marriage,” you informed him. “Not a lick of piano forte in me either. Luckily I’ve just been introduced to several young ladies I might recommend to you.”

“Ah” the man said, somewhat knowingly. “This is your debut, then.”

You were struck again by how low and warm and beautifully smooth his voice was. You wondered if his face was just as beautiful as his voice.

“Yes,” you answered, your mind flicking back to the flock of pecking hens back in the ballroom. Then a thought struck you.

“Who are you hiding from in here?” you asked.

The man was quiet for a moment, as if weighing his answer. “...The mothers of the very ladies you’ve threatened to introduce me to,” he said finally.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “They’re bloodthirsty, I will give you that.”

His eyes crinkled a little again, perhaps with another small smile. “I’ve seen their like only once before.”

“Where?” you asked gamely.

“The War for All,” he answered, and another laugh burst out of you.

You shouldn’t have laughed—the War for All, an incident from nearly a decade ago, had been the closest the country had ever come to its downfall. Princess-Regent Momo Yaoyorozu had newly come to power, only to meet a coup from a faction of detractors, attempting to install would-be Prince Shigaraki in her place. The capital had been under siege for nearly a year, before a group of the princess’s allies had helped defeat him–and the princess had spent the next few years consolidating her power, flushing out Shigaraki’s remaining supporters.

It was rude to compare marriage-minded mothers to the like of Shigaraki’s forces.

And yet also perhaps not entirely inaccurate.

“May you meet similar victory on this battlefield,” you told the man.

A clock chimed in the corner of the library, startling you. The remaining lemonade sloshed in your glass.

You sighed, listening to the clock strike eleven. You’d have to reunite with Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi soon, lest they come looking for you and discover you tucked away in this den of iniquity with a strange man.

“Speaking of battles, I believe it’s time for me to rejoin this one,” you said, getting back to your feet. Standing this close to him, you realized the man was rather tall, and he smelled horribly good–like crushed pine, and the powdery starch that had probably gone into his collar points.

As you made your way around him, he offered his hand, surprising you.

“It was good to meet you, Miss Utsushimi,” he said, the use of Camie’s last name startling you a little. Right, you were supposed to be impersonating a member of the ton. You’d spoken perhaps a little too freely in the dark of this secluded room.

“You as well, sir–lord—?” you said, placing your hand in his, realizing he’d never told you his name.

He raised your hand, pressing his mouth to the back of your hand in a proper greeting. You flushed nervously, the heat of his mouth searing through the fabric of your glove

“Shouto Todoroki,” he said.

Your hand froze in his, your heated blood suddenly icing over.

Oh sweet gods above, you knew that name.

The Utsushimis, as any group of women on the marriage market did, gossipped endlessly about suitable members of the ton. You knew a little about most of the available gentlemen, knew who would be an acceptable catch, who would be an excellent catch, and who would be the catch of a lifetime.

Shouto Todoroki—His Grace Shouto Todoroki, that was—was the catch of any lifetime. He was a duke, about your age, who’d grown up in the very company of Princess Yaoyorozu herself. He was rumored to have fought for her in the very War for All you’d been jesting about, and he was also rumored to be the only suitor being seriously considered for her hand, when she finally deigned to marry.

There was almost no more powerful man in all the country, and you’d flung apricot cakes at him!

You grasped the wall, suddenly feeling woozy.

Lord Shouto made a noise of concern, and the fingers around yours tightened.

“Are you well?” he asked.

You quickly steadied yourself, tugging your hand out of his.

“I–yes,” you said hastily, cringing at how strangled the words had come out. “I really must go, my lord.”

With that, you flung yourself towards the door, tearing it open as though the devil himself were behind you. You winced as the light of hundreds of candles seared your retinas.

You couldn’t help but take a quick glance back at Lord Shouto, which turned out to be the worst mistake of your life. In the candlelight from the door, all his features were suddenly thrown into clarity–and he was the most horribly beautiful man you had ever seen.

He was tall and packed with lean muscle, and had a face like a Greek sculpture—the kind the very Ancient Greeks you were so beginning to loathe would have carved. His eyes were bright and mismatched as you’d thought, his mouth soft and sensuous, and his collar points framed a strong, handsome jaw.

You barely allowed yourself enough time to take in his distinct mop of two-toned hair, before you bit out something strangled and fled, back into the ballroom.

Back to safety.

It was unbelievable luck that no one seemed any the wiser to your escapade as you returned, your nearly-empty glass of lemonade providing your excuse. You slotted yourself in between Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi and returned to fielding invasive questions, trying to calm your nerves.

You resolved to put all of this behind you, and stay in line for the rest of the season, lest you run a risk like this one again.

You would be good, and you would keep Camie and her family’s reputation clear.

And yet for the rest of the night, you couldn’t help that feeling that a pair of eyes was watching you. And you hoped desperately that you hadn’t already ruined things.

[madhatterbri]

Burning Down | Hangman A.P.

Summary: After Y/N's betrayal, Hangman confronts her.

Author's Note: Obsessed with this song. I love it so much. Blame TikTok. I was belting this song while on an 11-mile walk. 😂🤣 No one wants to kidnap crazy.

Hangman Adam Page Masterlist

AEW Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts @new-zealand-chic

Hangman Adam Page watched the woman from the saloon balcony. A dark cloak covered her appearance from the public eye. She must have known that he was hot on her trail. He took a swig of his whiskey in his glass. This wouldn't be the last time she'd run from him. His light eyes saw her mount a horse and run away into the desert night. He went back inside the saloon. His mind wrapped on her.

At one time, he would have defended this woman tooth and nail. Anyone who would have thought about slandering her good name had to go through him. She would have never done the same.

Now she was a pariah in any town she ventured into Texas. The roughest of outlaws and kindest clergymen knew her true identity. The Hangman was her last alibi. She burned the bridge between them.

Y/N always had trouble sleeping at night. He wondered if she still did. She tossed and turned in any bed she could find thinking about how she screwed up every good thing. No more allies to shield her from the storm that was coming to find her.

People gave her chance after chance to make things right. She scoffed at every attempt. The woman thought she was perfect. They needed to apologize to her for betraying her.

Hangman Adam Page mounted his horse. He had to control his anger. Y/N only has one place to go. With luck on his side, he would beat her there. Beat her to the only place that she had left to hide. She used to pray for his downfall. Now he would be her downfall.

Hangman was the first to arrive at her hideout. He grabbed his satchel from the side of his horse. A swift kick to the door caused the lock to break. His cowboy boots made a thud sound against the wooden floors below him.

The Hangman poured a flammable substance on the floor. Each room in the hideout had a line of the substance on the floor. He wasn't taking any chances. He was going to expose her to the world for all her sins. Satisfied with his work, he pulled out a box of matches.

A couple of scrapes to the box caused a fire at the tip of the match. He admired the glow of the flame for a while. The match dropped from his fingers at the right time. The substance on the ground quickly caught fire. He walked out of the house calmly.

Y/N stared at her last safehaven as the flames engulfed it. The arsonist stepped out of the front door and onto the porch. His cowboy boots carried him away from the house.

Y/N's face paled the moment the moonlight shined on Hangman's face. He turned to look at her. His cold, light eyes stared into hers. He won. He tipped his hat at her and walked back to his horse.

[fieldofdaisiies]

azriel x eris | 1,6k words | warnings: none | masterlist

Snow crunches beneath his Illyrian boots, wisps of breath twirl in front of his face, matching his swirling shadows that have slowed around him due to the cold.

A sheet of fresh snow covers the ground, sunlight dancing upon the otherwise barren landscape.

Azriel feels how his heart thunders deep within his chest – coming here is never easy. It always brings up memories, memories he has always hoped to keep locked away behind iron bars within his mind. But once again he has returned here. For her. Always for her.

Azriel's mother lives out here – in the Illyrian steppes, far from the camps where unspeakable things had been done to her. Here, she lives in solitude, in peace, only surrounded by nature and animals. 

Azriel blinks at the sunlight when he tips his head back, a sigh parting his cold lips. Frost adorns the branches of the looming trees around him, their barren limbs reaching skyward. He draws in a deep inhale, filling his lungs with the fresh air that feels like a soothing balm to his insides. 

Wisps of smoke billow lazily from the chimney of the small, in ivy covered, hut in front him, and Azriel cradles the chunks of wood he formerly collected tighter under his arm. He doesn’t want his mother to have to do everything alone up here, but he can’t always be there for her. And moving to the Library...she doesn’t want that. I was born in Illyria, I will die in Illyria, is what she keeps saying and it makes Azriel angry.

How can she like a place that has been nothing but cruel to her?

But she is stubborn, just like her son, and won't change her mind.

The shadowsinger shakes his head and takes the last steps towards the door. His gloved hand rasps against it and he waits. He waits for a long moment and unease coils in his stomach. Slowly, he lowers the firewood to the ground, placing it beside the door, easily accessible for his mother. 

Whenever he comes up here, he is always worried that something had happened to his mother in the time he couldn’t be there. Couldn’t be there for her.

But relief settles upon him, the moment the door opens and arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into the warmth of his mother'. 

"My little boy," Eleni expresses, her tone edging on a sob. She is trembling in her son’s embrace, Azriel’s arms curling tighter around her. 

"You haven’t been here in so long, I was so worried about you." 

He embraces her tighter. "I am here now, mother." His hand moves to her shoulder and squeezes, her body still trembling – either from the cold, or her silent sobs.

She worries too much, Azriel thinks. But he can’t blame her. He hasn’t been here in too long –weeks or maybe even more than a month–, of course she would start to question if something has happened to her son.

Only after a while, she steps out of the embrace, her bandaged hand reaching for Azriel. He won’t ask her where she hurt herself again, knowing she would lie to not concern him anyway. She has always done so. 

But his gaze once again moves to her limp. She has been limping…for as long as Azriel can remember. He hopes the pain won’t get worse, hopes he could help her. But she doesn’t allow him to help. She is stubborn - a trait he most definitely inherited.

"You must be hungry, my boy, let us eat."

The small hut carries the faint scent of cedar, and of herbs and baked bread, reminiding Azriel of his childhood, of the time where he used to cry himself to sleep every night. It always looks the same when he comes here. There is a small oak table with two benches in the corner of the room, and a similarly small kitchen across it, only consisting of a stove and a wooden counter for her to prepare things. The windows are curtain-framed, frost adorning the windows, spreading over them like spiderwebs. 

Azriel takes a seat on the wooden bench, the fur on top warm and soft, feeling like a cloud that he sits atop. His wings are folded in, the space between the wall and the table just enough to fit him.  

"How have you been? Where have you been?" Eleni places a bowl of hot stew in front of the shadowsinger, her hand reaching out to brush over his head. She brushes a few strands of hair back, looking at him like he is still her little boy, barely reaching her hip bone. "You look tired, my boy."

I am tired, Azriel wants to say, but only shakes his head. "I‘ve been working a lot. Rhys needed me."

"Of course he did, the busy High Lord he is." The corners of her lips tip up, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. "You have to tell him that he–” 

She inhales deeply.  “don’t work so much, Azriel. This is not good for you. Your eyes, they look empty. I don’t want them to be a mirror of your soul. Of your heart."

She claims the seat opposite him, her hand moving to his, clasping it tightly.

"It is alright, mother." Azriel’s voice has turned a little hoarse, his throat all of a sudden so very dry. "I am alright."

"And how are Cassian and his mate? What was her name again…Nes-"

"Nesta," Azriel says around a spoonful of stew. He swallows. "Her name is Nesta. And they are very happy."

Banging on top of every possible surface in the house, every moment of every day. He leaves out that detail, but once again frustration starts to boil inside of him. Only the thought of it—

"And little Nyx?" Her thumb strokes over the back of his hand, over the marred skin. 

Azriel eats another spoonful of stew. "Happy. He seems like a very happy child. He is learning very quickly."

What else is there to say, Azriel thinks. The little boy eats, drinks, poops, giggles and blabbers. That‘s it. And everyone is delighted about it. 

"I want you to be happy." He looks at her through his lashes when puts the spoon away, lifts the bowl to his lips and drinks the rest of the soup.

Once done, he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and leans back. "I am happy, mother."

She frowns, and then shakes her head. "I hate it when you lie to me. Especially when you lie to me about your wellbeing. You know this."

He knows it. But he can’t tell her about how empty he feels. How sad he is most days. How much he yearns for a mate. For love. For the one person in his life to love him unconditionally.

He has no idea if he will ever have such a person in his life. 

Once he hoped for Mor to be his person.

Then Elain. His thoughts wander, eyes trained on the little mark in the wood on the opposite wall. Memories bubble up in his mind. Memories of a recent conversation.

"About the necklace—"

"Did you apologise to her?"

Azriel startles. He has not expected this question, and most definitely not the tone in which she said it.

"I…I—"

Elain frowns. "Don’t look at me like that. Regifting any kind of present is not noble."

He knows this.

The shadowsinger dips his chin, letting his head hang an inch lower. "No, it isn’t."

"Then apologise to her as well."

He nods again and watches how she turns to the sink with a graceful sway of her hips, not deigning him another look.

"Are you angry with me, Elain?"

She turns to look at him over shoulder, giving him a long look. Then she shakes her head a little. "No, Azriel, I am not angry."

With that being said she turns back to the sink, focusing on the task at hand - doing the dishes. 

"El—"

"Good night, Azriel." For her the conversation is over. And even though, her voice did not once waver, the hurt in it was loud and clear.

This is a lost battle, Azriel knows this. It already was before he started it. Elain has a mate - nothing will ever change that. Amd he…he doesn’t love her. Not in the way he had loved Mor. He found Elain attractive, still does, but…He won’t bother her again. He has come to accept that over the past year.

Azriel shakes his head, hoping the memory fades, leaving his mind once again blank. Dull. Empty.

"I want you to find love, Azriel."

His eyes return to his mother, empathy written all over her face.

"What if love isn’t meant for me? What if I am undeserving of it?" he asks her before he can stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. 

"Bullshit," his mother says and it is the first time he has ever heard her curse. "Everyone is deserving of love and I know that one day it will find you."

It will find him. Or he has to go look for it. He can’t sit around each and every day hoping love stumbles on him. He has to go out there and search for it.

But before he can focus on that, there is still work to do. There is still unresolved business with a certain heir to a certain court. And a spying mission ahead for Azriel. One that will bring him right into the middle of the nearly southern-most court, one where rain dances on scarlet leaves, and where ancient trees loom in large forests that whisper tales of old times. The Autumn Court.

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A HUGE sneak preview from Chapter 4 (Original Spinet Theme) of my big chapter fic "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human" (Fic is very canon divergent).

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

A fun piece.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Redraw here.

First snippet, second snippet. (Read in numerical order for context.)

This is the final snippet that I will be sharing for the chapter.

Next up is the entire chapter.

Enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

As Kid Philip bolts into his shared bedroom, Caleb follows behind him at a slower speed, wielding a quill in his left hand.

The brunette proceeded to press his back against the wall behind his room door as he stood up straight, smiling fondly at his brother as he looked forward, sweet blue eyes gazing into warm brown ones.

Caleb, smiling back at his younger sibling, placed the pen horizontally above Philip's head, its tip facing the wall.

Moving the tip across the wall, the blonde creates a short, straight mark over Philip's head.

After Philip steps away from the wall, Caleb begins to record both his brother's height and age on it, with his height being written on the left side of the mark while his age is written on the right.

4. 5 feet - five-years-old

...

The early summer sun shone brightly in the afternoon sky, casting warmth across the atmosphere as Caleb cheerfully assisted his mother in churning butter on their farm, her hands over his as they cranked away at the churner.

Chirp-chirp-chee!

As Caleb gazes at the trees on the other side of the farm, believing that's where the chirps came from, the short, soft trills continue as a bird with vibrant red plumage flutters down and finds a comfortable spot to perch on.

Chrip!

Looking to his collarbone, Caleb spots a small male cardinal on his shoulder as he beams, brown eyes filled with excitement and wonder at the northern bird.

Patience gave a small, sweet laugh at her son's excitement, smiling fondly at both him and the cute little cardinal that he had.

She moves her hand over to gently pat the bird's head with her finger, being careful not to mess up his smashing hairdo.

...

The churned butter is quickly incorporated into a combination of wet and dry ingredients to create a cake topped with strawberries for Philip's 6th birthday, which is quietly celebrated in secret among the family.

...

Philip and his father exited a shop on All Hallows' Eve as the full moon illuminated the dark night sky.

The new carving knife Cadman had purchased to carve pumpkins at home with his boys was put in his pocket.

On their way out of town, the two heard a chorus of slow, lifeless moans coming from behind them and stopped in their tracks.

Cadman and Philip felt danger approaching as they slowly turned around and saw dozens of undeceased "witches" who had emerged from the dead, clearly seeking vengeance for their unjustified killings.

They were lumbering forward toward, in their eyes, two living sacks of human flesh that they planned to bite and have join in on their revenge crusade.

With wide eyes and a pounding heart, Cadman's instincts to protect his child quickly kicked in as he grabbed Philip's hand and soon bolted away from the pale green fiends.

Seconds later, Philip charges back at the death-dealing savages with his wooden sword, ready to send them all back to Heck where they belong, only for Cadman to bolt back after him.

Hurriedly snatching his son back with his right arm, Cadman takes off out of town, carrying Philip under his arm to prevent him from fleeing again.

...

With his boots and farm attire on, Cadman was ready to harvest his November crops.

His wife pulled out his brown leather hat from behind her back, placed it on his head, and planted a gentle kiss above his brow.

...

Cadman started cutting his crop stalks at a faster pace with his sickle as dark clouds surrounded the sky, not paying close attention to the sharp metal blade of his tool.

While working, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and the agonizing scream he exclaimed pierced the air.

As he slowly raised the hand he used to clutch his stomach, he noticed a dark crimson stain on his hand and quickly went wide-eyed.

He had a horrific look on his face as lightning flashed across the sky.

It was clear to him that his accidental cut could lead to more serious complications if he didn't return home promptly and have his wife take care of it.

As he stood, he made an effort to move quickly, but his injury was causing him to stumble while hobbling.

...

The furious storm continued into the night as Patience rested back in her rocking chair, reading a Bible story to her boys as they both listened keenly, sitting criss-crossed on the rug.

An urgent and loud bang on the door startled the three as Patience set her husband's Bible down and went to answer it.

The shrill scream from their mother caught Philip and Caleb off guard as she quickly rushed past them.

She directed the two to remain where they were while she went to retrieve a dampened cloth.

Although the boys had no idea what was happening, the sound of their father moaning in pain made their fret visible on their faces.

...

The dark, dreary skies matched the sadness that was brewing in the air as an undertaker laid Cadman's body to rest.

Patience sobbed heavily into her hands, unable to watch her beloved being buried as she and her sons stood on the side.

During her crying, her boys begin to shed tears.

They both clutch the lower half of their mother's dress, tightly holding onto the fabric as she wraps her arms around them for comfort.

...

Patience found it difficult to adapt to widowhood and life as an independent mother, but it was something she had to endure.

She frequently blamed herself for the death of her husband.

However, the presence of her boys made things less dreadful for her.

Caleb and Philip consistently assisted Patience with household tasks and always knew how to make her smile.

...

When Patience fell ill to an unknown sickness, it was up to Caleb to take care of her since he was the oldest child, with Philip occasionally doing what he could to help.

With the house's finances becoming more scarce, Caleb struggled to bring down his mother's fever, only with a wet rag at his disposal as Patience became more and more ill with every passing day.

...

One day, when Philip arrived home with a sack of apples that Caleb had instructed him to buy, he heard a faint echo of crying.

The reverberation spread throughout the hallway.

When Philip neared the dining room, he saw his brother with his head down on the table, wailing almost grievingly.

As Caleb slowly raised his head, he saw Philip and felt the weight of everything weighing heavily on him.

He stood up and ran to hug his brother tightly.

Philip was able to quickly understand what had occurred based on Caleb's emotions and was unable to move.

When the sack fell from his grasp and hit the ground, apples tumbled onto the floor.

Caleb was embraced with the same level of tightness by Philip, who quietly cried in his brother's arms.

...

At least Cadman and Patience were now buried side by side, as both Philip and Caleb couldn't imagine the two being apart even in death.

...

The death of their parents made neither boy want to remain in the house, as it was not the same without Cadman and Patience present.

Not only did the atmosphere lack the love of their parents, but the house's structure was starting to break down as well.

They needed a new house to live in.

...

Before they set off on their search for a new home, Caleb went into the chicken coop and said goodbye to all the birds that came into contact with him while Philip went into the stables.

Approaching his favorite brown stallion, the two proceeded to have a heart-to-heart as Philip reached up and gently ran his hand through the horse's mane while the horse pushed his nose into his palm.

A hug was soon given by Philip as he wrapped one arm around the horse's neck.

...

While the two brothers were walking hand in hand through the woods, they came across a brown wooden cottage at the end of the woods.

The wood was slightly worn, and shutters were dangling from their hinges on the two front windows, as observed by both of them.

As Caleb contemplated whether or not he and Philip should enter the house, an enthusiastic Philip ran toward the cottage.

Surprised by the sudden action, Caleb followed after, catching up with his brother as they entered the house.

Based on its current weathered condition, the wooden house seemed to belong to no one.

Well, no one except for the Wittebanes now.

...

At night, Philip had trouble falling asleep in his shared room as he heard Caleb's muffled cries, the blonde quietly sobbing into his pillow.

Caleb's current state left Philip feeling sad and sympathetic, prompting him to turn his gaze to the ceiling, fold his hands, and silently pray for God to bring his brother joy again.

Subsequently, he thanks God for taking care of the souls of his parents while they are in heaven.

...

Caleb awakens Philip the next day with a smile and eagerly urges him to get out of bed.

He wants to mark his height on their wall.

4. 6 feet - eight-years-old

Philip's growth excites both him and his brother as they cheer.

Caleb lifts Philip up and spins him around with joy, while the brunette giggles in delight as the music and montage come to a satisfying end.

[greeenchrysanthemums]

UPDATED appearances for the GG rivals au characters: now with Lizzie and Joel!!

Once again, i am no artist so they are just written descriptions with pictures here and there. Most of them are largely the same as the previous post, but I have added little tidbits to certain descriptions, some of which are lore related!

Gem looks similar to this gorgeous fanart, except her dress has slits up the side to allow for easier movement. This look is sometimes replaced entirely by a trouser and tunic combo of the same colour if she knows the mission she is being sent on will need a great deal of movement in close quarters or something to that affect. No matter the outfit, her sword never leaves her waist. Her hair is in a low bun with a braid wrapping around the front of her head, like this. I do not imagine her with horns in this au.

Scott and Impulse wear armour similar to how applestruda draws it in her au, with their cloths in shades of teal and yellow respectively. Scott has long, back length hair, that he wears down and covering one eye. He was born with heterochromatic eyes, one blue and one hazel. His teeth are sharp, and he has fin-like ears due to his Coral Crest heritage. Impulse has shortly cropped hair, stubble on his face, and two little nubby horns that are tipped in black extending out of his forehead. He also has sharp, clawed hands.

Grian's eyes are entirely black like a barn owl's, and he has feathers on the high parts of his cheek bones and ears. His hands end in sharp talons rather than nails. He also has bird-like legs and taloned feet. His wings are not visible, if there at all. He wears a red shawl/cloak that has a high collar and ends around his waist, held closed by a brooch in the shape of an eye, similar to this but golden instead of silver. It has a hood, but he only wears it if he is trying not to be seen. His undershirt is black, and it is a long sleeve. His trousers are brown.

Scar wears a similar black cloak as Grian, held closed by the same brooch, though he wears his with the hood up. The cloak has red flower detailing on the hem. His eyes are green, and his hair is brown. He has a single grey streak in the front of his bangs. His tunic and trousers under the cloak are both black and he wears his shirt just a little bit too open at the top. He also always wears a smile, but pretty much everyone can agree it is deceptively kind and fake. He looks the most human out of the whole cast, so much so that it is entirely uncanny. EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to mention! Scar has a cane as well. It's wooden with a gold handle.

Mumbo and Etho wear matching outfits, claiming it is professional since they share a job and shop, but it is something they choose to do, not something that is required of them (they are just very, very silly). They are simple outfits consisting of white tunics with black trousers and thick, leather aprons on top (mumbo's is red and etho's is a dark green). They both wear goggles and thick gloves, as well as chunky boots, all for safety since they work with explosives very often. Etho wears a black bandana to cover his lower his face, both to hide his scars and his identity. His goggles replace his headband in this look, doubling as what keeps his hair out of his face. His scared eye is missing entirely; he does not have a false eye, it is just an empty socket. Mumbo wears his goggles around his neck when they are not on his face.

Bdubs also wears thick gloves to protect his hands in the garden. His shirt is white, and he has brown trousers that are a tad bit high watered, something he claims is intentional as he does not want mud all over his trousers. The previous argument becomes moot, because over this outfit he wears a thick cloak that is almost always covered in some manner of flora and/or mud. He completes the look with a wide brimmed hat to protect him from the sun.

Cleo is also dressed similarly to Etho and Mumbo but her apron is a plain brown that is stained with soot. Her tunic sleeves are always rolled up to show off her strong arms and she doesn't wear her safety gloves nearly as much as she should. She forgoes eye protection entirely. One of her eyes is missing, replaced with a glass eye of a slightly different shade of green than her organic eye. Her hair is pulled into a much messier bun than Gem's, with frizzy stray hairs going every direction. She is NOT a zombie in this au, she is completely human.

Ren is dressed in all the typical regalia of a king, complete with a diamond encrusted, golden crown and a thick red cape with a fluffy collar. His thick beard is long and braided. His eyes are red, as well as blood shot, and he almost always appears angry. He, of course, has wolf ears and a tail. He simply would not be Rendog without them.

Martyn is dressed in the same armour as the other knights. His under clothing is green, as is the bandana he wears around his forehead. He usually appears worried, but he smiles often in the presence of the king. He always has a hand on the sheath of his sword, ready to draw it at any time.

Pearl wears a white tunic with flared sleeves tucked into a pair of high waisted black trousers. Over this she has a deep, red cloak that stops at her waist and is held closed by a circular broch that, when unclasped, takes the shape of crescent and wanning gibbous moons. She has a crescent moon shaped birth mark on the left side of her face. Her hair is always down and messy under her hood. When she is on the job, she carries a scythe strapped to her back, along with a crossbow. There is a sheath on her leg which contains a dagger.

Bigb wears a blue tunic with brown trousers, along with a thin white apron when he is working. He always seems to have flour stains on his clothes whether he is on or off the clock, no matter how hard he tries to wipe it off. Big strong arms for him as well.

Skizz wears the same armour as the rest of the knights, and his underclothes are black. The shoulder of his armour has a cross emblem on it that delegates him as a medic, and he has medical supplies carried across his chest. The sleeves of his tunic are ripped off and he does not wear his gauntlets, showing off a plethora of scars along his arms. He is a dove avian, but one of his wings is heavily damaged and half missing as a result of an old injury he sustained on the field. He has white feathers on his upper cheekbones and ears, but he lacks the talons that Grian has.

Tango wears a short sleeved red tunic and black trousers with big chunky boots that are never free of mud. His hands are clawed, and his ears are pointed; both are tipped in a red to black gradient. His eyes are entirely red. He has a long tail that ends in a tuff of fire that doesn't seem to actually have any real heat.

Jimmy wears a blue tunic with a brown vest over it. Brown trousers and chunky boots. His sleeves are always rolled up and he is always covered in some manner of dirt, both because of the work he does on the farm, and from being very clumsy. He has bull horns, one of which is chipped. He also has a tail and bull-like ears. He has a gold ring in one of his ears.

Lizzie wears a flowy purplish-pink dress that is thin, both to allow for free movement and to allow airflow in the Coral Crest heat. Her teeth are sharp, and her ears are fin-like. Her nails are very sharp. She wears her pink hair down with a string of pearls like this. She wears many silver and gold bracelets on both wrists, along with a few anklets on both ankles. She does not wear shoes unless she is out of the castle.

Joel Wears a thin, short sleeved white tunic and brown trousers under a set of armour. While Wintertide armour is more thick and sturdy, as well as a darker greyish colour, Coral Crest armour is more thin and agile, and is a lighter grey, almost white, colour. He wears no gauntlets. His hair is short and messy with the back pulled into a tiny ponytail. He has a short, scruffy beard. He also has fin-like ears, sharp teeth, and sharp nails. He puts on a tough guy act by scowling all the time.

[acewritesfics]

Family Day Out: Part 01 | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: From Anon

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Fluff, a little swearing, dad!eddie.

Word Count: 1,441

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Stranger Things Masterlist

Part 02 | Part 03

Four Years After Vecna 

The sound of a thump coming from her daughter’s bedroom causes Y/N to stop washing the breakfast dishes. When she hears her husband, Eddie letting out a groan and Sophie’s boisterous laughter fills the two-bedroom trailer, her curiosity grows. She walks to Sophie’s bedroom and leans against the door frame after drying her hands with the dish towel. 

“What’s happening in here?” she asks, gaining the attention of her husband and daughter. Eddie and Sophie exchange glances before looking at her.  

She surveys the bedroom. The floor was littered with wooden blocks and Eddie’s Dungeon & Dragon’s figurines. The container in which the blocks were stored was tipped over. The plastic sword that Uncle Dustin gave her for her third birthday is in her right hand. 

“I slayed the dragon and saved Daddy!” Sophie exclaims with delight. 

“You did?” She moves into the bedroom and kneels beside Sophie. She draws her into a hug and smothers her with kisses all over her face. “ Mommy is so proud of you and thanks you greatly.”   

Sophie continues to giggle as she tries to push away. “Mommy, stop!”  

Y/N kisses her cheek once more and leans to share a quick kiss with Eddie. “Are we almost ready to depart for our fun day out? Is that what you’re wearing to day?” 

Sophie was wearing her purple princess dress and a denim vest that looked “just like daddy’s one,” complete with patches all over it. She was wearing her little black biker boots and Eddie’s old black and white skull bandana was wrapped around her head to keep her mess of dark curls—which she also inherited from Eddie along with his deep drown eyes—out of her face. The plastic sword that Uncle Dustin gave her for her third birthday is in her right hand. 

“Yes!” Sophie applauds. “Can I bring sword?”  

“The sword is staying at home today, sweetie,” Eddie replies.  

She sets her sword down and gestures to Eddie’s sock-covered feet, “Daddy shoes.”  

“I’m going to put them on right now,” Eddie says, standing up. He extends a hand to Y/N and helps her to her feet. 

“And you can help me pack your bag,” Y/N tells Sophie, offering her hand to the three-year-old, who takes it immediately. Eddie is followed by the two his two favorite ladies as they leave Sophie’s bedroom and walks into the living room.   Sophie grabs her muppets’ backpack and passes it to her mother, who takes it into the kitchen and begins packing it with snacks and a change of clothes for the small girl. She made sure to pack some toys for Sophie to keep her occupied in the van. The Munson family was on their way to the park as soon as they were ready. 

When they arrived at the park, Eddie helps Sophie in get out of her car seat and lifts her up, carrying her on his shoulders. “Gentle,” he softly reminds her as she clutches fistfuls of his hair to hold on to him. Eddie holds her legs to keep her steady as she releases his hair and throws her tiny arms around his head. As she walks behind the father-daughter duo, Y/N grins.  

She believed that Eddie deserved all the wonderful things that came his way because of everything they had gone through since learning about the existence of the upside down, which had happened in the most dreadful way. He had been implicated in all three of the horrific killings that had occurred in 1986 and had witnessed two of them. Most of Hawkins had turned their backs on him, not that they had given him the time of day before Jason Carver rallied an angry mob of hicks to go after him. Y/N, his Uncle Wayne, and Dustin were the only three people who didn’t need to be convinced from the start that he didn’t do it. The others had their doubts until they found him and he had explained what had happened to Chrissy. 

Before the Hawkins Upside Down group made the decision to take Vecna on themselves, the few days he had spent in hiding felt like some of the worst. Y/N had been paired with Dustin and Eddie, and everything went smoothly until Eddie decided to play the hero. When Y/N and Dustin found Eddie lying in the middle of the road, surrounded by dead demobats and bleeding profusely, it quickly turned into the worst day of her life. However, by some miracle, they had been able to pull the wounded three time senior from the upside-down and find a person who would help him. With more than one eyewitness and no concrete proof that Eddie was responsible for the murders, his name was cleared and he was able to finally graduate. However, it wasn’t enough to keep him in Hawkins. 

Eddie announced to her that he intended to leave Hawkins and never come back three months after he had physically recovered. Even after his name was cleared, Eddie was still not accepted in the town.  He couldn’t go anywhere without people sneering and constantly harrassing him. Every week, his uncle’s trailer, where they stayed with him, was vandalized. The young couple told Wayne of their decision, packed up the little amount of belongings that they owned, and left Hawkins, but not before promising the others that they would call as soon as they could. 

For four months, they lived out of his van and the occasional hotel room until they had enough money from their new jobs to find a place to live. It didn’t take them long to find the trailer in which they currently resided. A month after leaving Hawkins, Y/N found out she was pregnant with Sophie. They were engaged five months later and eloped at the courthouse, with Wayne, who was visiting them at the time, as a witness.  

And now, here they are four years later, happily married, with a beautiful daughter who is Eddie’s twin, making do with what they must provide for their daughter and any future children they may have. Despite not having much, she considered what they have to be everything they need.  

“Mommy, look!” Her daughter’s delighted squeal cuts through her thoughts. She glances to see where she’s pointing from her father’s shoulders and sees a mother duck swimming in the water with her ducklings. Her favorite animals, second only to dragons, are ducks.  

“Mama duck has babies,” she exclaims as she steps beside her husband, lifting Sophie off his shoulders. 

They approach the pond and take a seat a few feet away from the water’s edge. While watching the ducks and ducklings, Sophie curls up on Eddie’s lap, pointing out when they would bob underwater and then come back up, and getting excited when some of them came back onto land.  

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Eddie begins, breaking the silence. They had been at the park for about thirty to forty minutes when Sophie cuddled up against Eddie’s chest and dozed off as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

“About?” she wonders, her gaze shifting from the water to her husband.  

“I’d like another one,” he confesses.  

“Another what?” she asks, perplexed.  

“Another baby,” he says. “I’d like to start trying for another one. I think it’ll be nice to have another one and to give Soph a baby brother or sister.”  

She appears to be thinking about something as she nods her head and chews on her lower lip. She agrees that that did sound nice.  "What if I told you we don’t have to try for another one?“  

It was now his time to appear puzzled. "I don’t understand.” 

She can’t help the grin that appears on her lips. “I was going to tell you tonight, but since you brought it up, this morning’s phone call from the doctor was to confirm that I’m pregnant again.”  

His expression quickly shifts from confusion to surprise and then to pure excitement and joy. “We’re having another baby?”  

She confirms what she just said with a nod of her head.  

“I love you so fucking much,” he says softly as he pulls her into a kiss, careful not to wake their sleeping daughter. “Holy shit, we’re going to need a bigger home.” 

Y/N chuckles. “We have approximately seven months to find one.”  

“I love you,” he says again, kissing her. “And I love you,” he continues, kissing Sophie’s head. Y/N grins as she watches him put his hand on her stomach. “And I love you.”  

“We all love you, too,” Y/N says as she kisses him this time. 

TAGGED: @rainydayteacups | @alexxavicry

[annikin-annotates]

Hi love!

Would you be interested in writing anything about the Green siblings dynamic and make it happy? 😂 I feel like so many fics about Aemond are dark/sad and that’s fine, it’s more accurate canonically and they’re well written it’s just…I wanna read about my boy being happy even if it’s not realistic 😭😭 and I would love to see him and his siblings getting along, taking the piss out of each other, having fun etc lol

Eden

Hiya lovely! Thank you for your request, I hope I did it justice! this is super inspired by the song Thus Always To Tyrants by The Oh Hellos.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Content Warnings: Nothing, tooth rotting fluff.

(Not proof read)

It was early morning when her husbands soft groaning and stretching pulled you from the plushness and warmth of sleep, rolling on your side to see a lilac and blue eye peering back at you - a worm smile crossed both of their lips. Aemond’s hair was still mussed with sleep “Good morning my Sweet Wife” he greeted you with a kiss on the tip of your nose, a positively girlish giggle escaping you as you stretched. You had yet to become used to being called ‘wife’; never mind the wife of a Targaryen Prince, if your parents could see you, you had no doubt they would be overjoyed with your current standing as a Princess of the realm.

“What are your plans for today, my Lord Husband?” she asked as she huddled closer to him, the warmth of his body calling to her. Aemond Instinctively brought his arms around her, pulling her closer as he hummed in thought, the motion sending a deep rumble through her ears. “Helaena asked if we would like to go on dragon back for a picnic, Aegon and the children will be accompanying also” he said softly, feeling torn. If they went on an excursion, there would be less time for them to have a late rise, but if they didn’t attend - Helaena and the children would be heart broken. “We can’t disappoint the children now, can we?” a tender smile spread across her lips as they broke apart threw back the covers simultaneously.

You had always found it strange that handmaids always seemed to be lurking just around corners waiting to be called upon, as soo as you had opened your mouth to call for a maid - several had tumbled through the servants entrance to yours and Aemond’s shared chambers. The pair of hand maids that had tended to her were ones she had become quite close with in her time at the Keep; Amblin and Aylisha.

You had learned their names, their children’s names and where they had hailed from; Amblin had come from the Reach while Aylisha had come from Esos. When they were first introduced, you had set aside a while day to talk to them and hear their stories, where they grew up and what they liked doing in their free time. It had spread through the court like wildfire - that a princess would treat servants with basic respect.

They had dressed you in a pair of black breeches and sturdy leather riding boots that reached your knees, a loose fitting shirt covered your stays and a riding coat was fastened tightly to you person, your hair was tightly braided away from your face. Giving them a quiet ‘thank you’ before they left the room the same way they entered, your feet carried back to where Aemond stood, your breath nearly hitched in her throat.

His pale hair almost glowing in the early morning sun, the milky expanse of his chest was partially exposed by the unlaced collar of his shirt, she politely shooing the maids away so she could finish gawking in private. A knowing smile spread across his lips as he made his way to you, meeting in the middle of one of the plush carpets in their chambers. Exchanging fond looks as you ran your hand slowly up his chest before beginning to tie the front of his shirt and helping him pull on his jerkin and fastening all of the buckles.

It was mid morning by the time they had begun to make their way to the dragon pit, the Keep was slowly starting to come to life as the exited they large wooden doors and descending the front stairs. Kings Landing was full of hustle and bustle by this time, the small folk bartering with shop keeps, women chattering away to each other in small groups, and wily children playing tag. The sight was enough to bring a smile to your face, and the best part of it all was that nobody spared you both a glance - all of them far too wrapped up in their own lives to notice.

“What has you grinning this morning?” Aemond asked her as they walked up the numerous steps into the Dragon Pit. Vhagar was obviously far too big for the pit, but walking through the pit cut the walk time in half, “I’m just happy today, my love. it is not often you venture out for the sake of pleasure” you responded, a wistful smile on your lips.

Aemond’s brows rose “I never said this was pleasure, we are spending the day with Aegon” he said, amusement dancing in his voice as he pushed the large oaken back doors to the dragon pit open. The doors hinges groaned with the movement, they opened slowly to reveal the backside of a near mountainous hill - she thanked herself, the gods, and her maids for dressing her in breeches today.

Ascending the hill was not so bad - the view of the city was glorious this morning. Casting your eyes down the other side of the hill was when you saw her, the largest dragon in the world; and your husbands mount - Vhagar. The histories Aemond pours over constantly never did the she dragons size justice, and if Vhagar was this big - how large was The Black Dread? you shuddered at the thought.

The she beast was flanked - at a safe distance of course; by two other dragons Sunfyre the Golden and Dreamfyre, their riders and their children. Though a fourth dragon was out a little farther its brilliant blue left no room for debate - Tessarion, Daeron’s mount. Tessarion was a large horned beast, The Blue Queen was an egg from Silverwing’s clutch - the late Queen Alysanne’s mount.

You gave Aemond a nudge to the ribs and pointed to Daeron - sending the three of them an excited wave. Daeron, Helaena and the children returned the sentiment, waving excitedly to you; while Aegon hardly looked capable of lifting his had to give more than a half hearted wave. But you could see the lazy grin that toyed on his lips.

The both of you made your way down to the gathering family to mount up, Aemond allowed you to climb the rope lader on Vhagar’s side first - him following close behind. Aemonds chest was pressed firmly to your back as he tied the ropes and belts around you both “Try not to fall from your dragon!” Aemond called to his brother.

To which Aegon gave him a vulgar gesture before covering Jaehery’s ears to yell to his brother “Oh piss off!” he called back to Aemond. “It will be a long way down!” Daeon called, a wry smile on his lips, “You shut your mouth or I will have mother and Grandsire send you away to never return!” Aegon snapped, though there was no malice in his voice.

You let out a cackle - it wasn’t often you got to see them al interacting to comfortably with each other. All of them either had too many duties to attend to or were arguing with each other - though the arguing was mostly shared between the two brothers. Helaena always seemed more relaxed outside of the Keep’s walls, her shoulders held no tension and her eyes shone like Amethysts catching sunlight.

“Soves, Vhagar!” Aemond called, commanding Vhagar to take flight, Vhagar began to move with thunderous noises and movements making your whole body rattle. Feeling and seeing the ground fall away from your feet never got any less unsettling - though you do now have your tendency to scream under control; now only letting out a hushed “Oh gods” as you white knuckle the pommel of Vhagar’s saddle. You let go of the pommel when you felt Aemond’s warmth beckoning you back to his chest, you settled in for a long flight.

The wind whipped so violently around you that you almost felt bad for Aemond behind you - your braid ought to have been smacking him repeatedly. Though the thought quickly left your head as the ocean passed beneath your feet, you could hardly contain your gasp, “beautiful, is it not?” Aemond asked, voice barely audible over the rushing wind.

You nodded “It is most exquisite!” you beamed, “I was talking about you” he hummed lowly into your ear, heat rushed to your cheeks “Oh hush Aemond!” you replied, trying to hide your giggle. The cerulean blue of the ocean stretched on as far as the eye could see, the expanse of darkness broken by an occasional ship and the foam of breaking waves.

The hours in the saddle passed by rather quickly when flying, there was always something new to look at; be it a new species of bird, large fish or the occasional whale in the water. Aemond often found himself pointing out things his love would enjoy, the excited giggle never failing to make his heart soar with happiness. Not many things happened in Aemond’s life made him happy, but you? his love, the very breath in his lungs and the blood thrumming in his veins - you did.

Dragon screeched were heard all around as Tessarion and Daeron shot by them both, “Catch us if you can!” Daeron yelled, his voice fading as quick as it came as he passed them. Daeron was egging both his brothers on, a flash of gold zipped by you both, hot on his little brothers scales “Last one there is a virgin!” Aegon cackled. You looked back at Aemond - giving him a nod as if to say show them who is boss. He let out a throaty laugh before offering Vhagar another command “Adhirikydho Vhagar, toli ziry!” he shouted.

Vhagar gave a begrudging and thunderous grumble before heeding her masters orders ad diving after the other dragons, leaving Dreamfyre and Helaena to follow after them at a much more appropriate speed. You let out a happy yelp as that fluttering feeling happened in your stomach, the kind you get when you were falling. the ocean was fast approaching the three brothers and their fourth begrudging passenger. Vhagar suddenly banked left to soar past Sunfyre and Tessarion, both dragons parting out of respect for their elders and to make room for her immense size.

Ocean blue waters quickly became a patch of lush green grass as you began your descent on Vhagar, the chilly air becoming less intense the closer you got to ground fall. Vhagar was the first to land, followed by Tessarion and Dreamfyre, Sunfyre landing last. The four dragons landed with relative smoothness, the ground beneath the largest of them crumbly slightly at the sudden force thrust upon it.

The four of them sat together indulging in the delights that had been stowed away in baskets on Dreamfyre’s back. Everyone’s favourites had been packed; Lemon cakes, Roast meat, cured meats, both sweet and savoury pies and wine and water. You leant back on the heels of your palms, watching the children play tag with Daeron; the sound of laughter rang out across the open field as Daeron caught Jaehera and spun her around in his arms. Aemond looked across to Helaena and Aegon; Helaena peacefully embroidering while Aegon sipped at his wine, he tilted his head towards your ear.

“Perhaps he will get drunk enough to fall from his dragon” he remarked light heartedly, causing you to gasp “Aemond!” you giggled, playfully smacking his upper arm. You looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours and all was right in the world “Avy jorraelan”, he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“And I you”, you whispered back.

High Valyrian Translations

Soves, Vhagar! - Fly, Vhagar!

Adhirikydho Vhagar, toli ziry! - Quckly Vhagar, after them!

Avy jorraelan - I love you

Taglist; @adelusionalwriter @hopelesswritergall @princesssszzzz @arcielee @whoahoney

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Run, Human... RUN. part 11

Warnings: captivity, forced recovery whump

The next morning, she awoke to the sounds of many different voices coming from outside -- musical, foreign speech.

What is all the commotion...?

Half-awake, Alexa slid out of bed and stretched her sore muscles, shaking off the stiffness. Her stomach was cramping badly from hunger, she'd hardly had anything to eat the past day and a half. Not to mention she'd gone back to meager rations after returning to the military base. Her nose twitched and her mouth watered when the scent of fresh food hit her nose.

She padded awkwardly out of the bedroom she was in and into the main room of the woven dwelling, following the tantalizing scent.

Where...?

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that there were several bat-people chatting and talking excitedly right outside the handing door cover. She could hear their loud conversations and see their shadows through the stitched leaf cover. But one voice suddenly rose above all the rest.

"SCARK MARVO!" The voice roared loudly. Alexa heard a few dozen wingbeats and surprised yelps as the group of bat-people dispersed, lunging off the small platform in front of the house, flying away in every direction. Then a single pair of boots landed, and the door hanging was brushed aside. It was Tyleet, carrying a tray of assorted foods. Most of it looked to be interesting types of fruits and berries, but there was also some prepared meat on the side, a small feast.

"Hunger?" he asked setting the tray down on a nearby table.

Alexa immediately made a beeline for it and started eating, trying to slow herself down so as to not look absolutely ridiculous shoving her face full of food.

"Sorry..." She mumbled around a mouthful of strange apple, casting an apologetic glance at him. Tyleet merely chuckled in amusement. He was just like the typical bat-man she'd first met again, no traces of cold cruelty left in him.

Alexa filled her stomach, and once she was finally finished, she slowly turned to Tyleet. "I need to ask... what did you do with my friends?" She gestured to herself to communicate others like her.

"Safe," Tyleet answered simply.

"Can... Can I please see them?"

"Safe," he said again, the corners of his mouth twitching into a frown.

"I know you're saying they're safe, but I'd like to see them," Alexa elaborated, pointing at her eyes.

Tyleet looked more like the rather normal boy she'd first met instead of the commanding leader now, to her relief, and it was such a stark and drastic contrast from how he'd been during the fight at the military base. All that menacing power radiating from him was gone, replaced by his typical welcoming area of warmth, passive and calm. The shy, timid person that had once rescued her from death.

Tyleets eyes swept over Alexa's appearance, and he seemed to waffle for a second before deciding. He brushed aside the door hanging and gestured to the takeoff platform outside. Alexa got the hint, and stepped out onto the wooden slab, forcing herself not to look down.

She obediently walked into Tyleet's arms when he opened them, squeezing her eyes shut as he tipped off the edge, wind ruffling her hair as he glided down and set her gently on her feet.

"T-Thanks," Alexa mumbled, quickly stepping away from him with a shiver. She couldn't forget how the hands that were so tentative and careful with her now had been smeared with blood only a day ago.

Tyleet made a strange clicking sound and jerked his head gesturing behind her.

Alexa slowly turned, and what she saw stole her breath away. There was a giant building on the ground, with a long line of -- humans! Humans lined up leading to the entrance. Standing beside each one was a bat-man or woman, clearly in charge of handling each captive. The humans all had their wrists bound with vines, and a few had makeshift shackles around their ankles to let them only walk and not run. She assumed those humans must have put up more of a fight.

"See? See safe?" Tyleet pointed meaningfully at the line leading from the large building. "Safe."

"W-What are you doing to them?" Alexa asked quietly, almost fearing the answer.

"Help. Like Alexa help."

That wasn't the answer she was expecting, but she watched as bat-people emerged from the back of the building holding overflowing plates of food as they dragged their humans to a clearing where they settled down and were helping them eat, considering that every human was thoroughly restrained.

But the tension in Alexa's chest eased a little to see them being well cared for. She and her friends had been starving for so long ever since their backup food stores were depleted, surviving on scraps for so long... this would probably be the first time any of the human survivors had full bellies in the past three months.

It was far too kind a mercy from Tyleet, after everything humans had put through. Especially Violet.

"Why water?" Tyleet's eyes widened worriedly, and it took Alexa a second to figure it out. Tears are 'water'. Why are you crying?

She hadn't even realized she was crying until he pointed it out. Maybe in relief? How was she supposed to explain that humans didn't just cry when they were sad, scared, or hurt?

"I just... didn't expect this from you," she croaked hoarsely, gratitude choking her up. She'd kind of expected her fellow humans to be kept in some treacherous pit to be tortured for their crimes against bat-people, left to suffer after how they'd made Tyleet suffer. Then another more likely thought occurred to her.

"Did you do all this... for me?"

Tyleet nodded eagerly. "Alexa no want kill, so Tyleet help, no kill." His wings flared slightly before he tucked them neatly behind him again, a tell she'd discovered for when he was nervous. Then Tyleet awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Teach" --- he pointed to Alexa, then at himself --- "learn?"

"You... want me to teach you more about humans?" Alexa's eyebrows arched as Tyleet nodded enthusiastically.

"Teach, learn! Speak... gooder. No hurt." He started spouting off random human words he'd picked up, as though it would impress her and made her more likely to give him more knowledge.

"Okay! Okay, I'll teach you," Alexa couldn't help laughing at his fascination with human culture. But there was also a slight uneasiness that crept up her spine, though she quickly brushed it off. Would her friends only stay unharmed as long as she did what Tyleet wanted? She didn't want to risk testing that theory. Because she'd already underestimated Tyleet once, she didn't want to do it again. After all, how could such a shy, kind young man be the leader of such a vicious tribe? That had been a grave mistake to assume he couldn't possibly be capable of violence if the situation arose.

She wondered why he was so eager to learn about her, why he so desperately wanted knowledge. But then again, Tyleet's interest in human ways could be totally innocent, after all he was a naturally curious creature.

Aaaaand writer's block hit. Ugh. Where should I take this story next?

Option A: Tyleet turns out to actually be secretly manipulating Alexa into teaching him human dialect because he wishes to capture more human colonies to study like lab rats.

Option B: Tyleet's just a super curious guy who genuinely has an innocent interest in learning about humans just because they're fascinating to interact with.

Option C: I have absolutely no idea, make specific suggestions in the comments 😂

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump @otterfrost @sausages-things

[the-californicationist]

Granted (SanSan AU)

Sansa Stark inherited her family’s ranch after a series of terrible tragedies. Needing help, she hired Sandor Clegane - a washed out rodeo king. The two of them rescue a cow in the back pasture and roll around in the hay. Warnings: Modern setting AU. Pure smut propped up with the skeleton of a story. Anal. Outdoor sex.

He came in wet, the wooden door banging shut behind him, black hair plastered to his head under his beaten up cowboy hat. The rainwater was dripping from the tips of his hair and running into his worried eyes. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily from his exertion, chest heaving and ribs straining against his shirt. His jacket and jeans were soaked through and clinging to his skin, painted on his body in cold heavy fabric. 

He stared right into her face, unflinching. It was as if he had a whole conversation with her in his mind, silently telling her the deepest secrets and fears and joys he’s ever known, asking her for more and more, begging her with his fiery gaze. She had never seen him attempt such deliberate and fearsome eye contact with her. He usually turned away, stared out into their open fields or down at his boots. 

As if realizing his odd demeanor, when he spoke, none of the kindled flame remained in his voice. His question came out like a smooth, round stone: quiet, cold, unfeeling. 

“Where do you keep the spare blankets?”

She didn’t answer him right away, instead raising an eyebrow to question his motives. He continued without her,

“Cow is stuck on the north corner, giving birth to twins. Vet says he’ll be here in the morning but they won’t last the night in the cold.”

She turned off the stove’s burner and grabbed her coat. Packing quickly, she grabbed her keys and headed to the backyard, leading him to the old barn they only used for storage these days. She flung open the side door and he put his flashlight above her head so she could see. He towered over her, eyes searching the dark barn for movement that wouldn’t be there. She flipped open two chests and hauled out the extra blankets, grabbing a canister of grain as she kicked the door shut. 

Feet squishing through the mud and tall grass, they all but fell into his truck, tossing the blankets and feed into his covered bed. The engine roared to life just as a bolt of lightning split the sky apart. A threatening peal of thunder followed not long behind. 

They rode in silence, and the rattling of the truck did little to fill the void. When her father was killed, and her brothers along with him, she’d been left with the Stark family farm, but she hadn’t had the faintest idea about how to run it, always preferring indoor activities when given the choice between that or shit-kicking. So, she hired Sandor Clegane, the washed up rodeo king of Wyoming turned cowhand. He was too good for the job he did. He fixed the equipment, mended fences, herded cattle, killed coyotes, and dealt with ranch barons who wanted to come in and buy her out for cents on the dollar. 

The burns that scared half of his face and neck were objectively grotesque. The sheen of the healed tissue as it pulled against his jaw reminded her of cellophane, crinkled in all the wrong places. He was a master at crowd control - be it livestock or human beings. His imposing size and animalistic musculature made even the most hardened men think twice about even considering raising a challenge to him. All the better, because his attitude was that of a hungry copperhead. 

He was her opposite in every way. Tough when she was fearful, strong when she was frail, bold when she was meek. But, he had brought out the wolf inside of her over the years, she had to admit. When he had first come to the farm, she could barely meet his eyes, but now she stood beside him as they stared down each challenge that wandered across their ranch’s path. 

They had made more money together in the past two years than the farm had ever turned when her father had been alive, and that was why the other ranchers were trying harder than ever to make her sell. One had even sent his son over, pretending to be wounded, in hopes she’d care for him and eventually be inclined to his marriage proposal - all to find out it was a sham. 

Now, looking at his hulking form across from hers in his truck, she couldn’t imagine waking up without Sandor in her life. She wondered, in more detail on lonely nights, what those huge, rough hands must feel like when they become wrapped around a person’s skin. Would they be rough and certain? Or would they be tender, knowing their ability to cause pain? 

She hadn’t noticed how she was dressed for this excursion, but she was painfully aware of it now that she was shivering on the bench seat. Her yellow cotton dress, dotted with little embroidered daisies, clung to her belly and legs from the rain. Her dad’s old green sweater hung off one shoulder, the neck too worn out to fit right. A woolen shawl she had knitted years ago was wrapped around her chest. A worn pair of socks stretched over her knees, and her muddy duck boots kept her feet warm and dry. 

She looked over at Sandor and caught his eye. He turned the heat up on the console and pointed his vents toward her. 

“You cold, little bird?” 

His voice was so dark and deep; it rumbled toward her like a landslide. He was always yelling at the hired hands and hollering at his horse, Stranger, so it was no wonder he sounded gravelly. 

“It’s really coming down. Thought we were supposed to get a break,” she commented, gazing out the window across the flatlands. 

“Gonna be a long night,” he lamented. 

Forty minutes later and they made it to the lean-to where the cow was holed up and pleading with them through unhappy lowing. Sandor managed to fit a halter on her and keep her tied to the hitching rings, but she was in pain and they could tell. 

“What’s keeping the vet?” Sansa asked him. 

He patted the cow’s big neck and checked her for obvious injuries,

“Said something about going to the city for a big race horse with a broken leg. Probably heaps of money in it for him.”

She nodded, understanding but still sorry there was no recourse. 

The lean-to was big enough for about ten head of cattle, and there was a small room off to the side for hay storage. She watched as the enormous cowboy pulled bales out of their storage with extreme ease and spread it across the floor for the cow to lay on. With the store room now empty, he put a hand on his hip and gestured to the wooden floor,

“Well. It’s not the Hilton. I’d offer to drive you back up to the big house but I know what you’ll say. You’ll chirp and whine about needing to be out here, so you might as well settle in.”

She turned away from the room and looked back at the tired cow,

“I know. I’m sorry, Sandor. I just don’t wanna leave her here.”

She had always called him Mr. Clegane, but after he snapped at her one night, she had finally agreed to go by first names because he was “nobody’s mister.” 

He paused for a moment, thinking about something unseen, and breathed out a hard sigh. The sun was setting fast, so after he organized the cow’s tack, he ran back into the rain to grab their bags. Sandor hung the blankets and put their packs just inside the door. She sat on a hay bale and checked her phone for service. 

“No bars out here, princess,” he said, dryly. 

She powered it off and zipped it into her bag. The oats she took from the barn were still in the large container. She started up her small, beaten up Biolite and got a fire burning. She poured out some water from her pack and mixed in the oats with a little sugar. After a few minutes, she poured out two small cups and handed one to him. He took it carefully, but his big hands made it seem like a child’s teacup. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, mouth full of porridge. 

“You bet,” she returned. 

“You got extra room on that bale?”

She scooted over and brushed away the top layer of straw, as if it wasn’t going to cling to him anyway. 

“I brought you a dry shirt if you want it. I’m gonna change out of this dress.”

He watched as she dug in her emergency bag, admiring her quick thinking. 

“I am gonna make the hands all carry those. They get stuck out here all the time with nothing but their jeans and a can of Skoal.”

She laughed brightly,

“Yeah. It was a trick I learned from dad. He always said you should be able to be what you needed to be when you needed to be it.” 

She threw her hands up at Ned Stark’s family wisdom, showing her confusion and humor at her father’s unrefined lesson. To her relief, Sandor laughed with her. 

“Smart man,” he chuckled. 

She handed him the shirt folded. He traded her back the empty cup of oats and started to strip off his wet clothes. His jacket had almost dried but his button down shirt was still sopping wet. He pulled back button after button and she didn’t turn away at first. His undershirt hid most of the tanned, hairy skin that stretched across his huge, heavy structure. She knew he’d be hot to the touch. Sansa knew his skin would feel slick with rain and sweat. She wanted to reach out into the open pocket of his shirt and touch him and all of his scars, but she didn’t. She turned away from him when she realized her extreme rudeness. 

He laughed again, crueler this time,

“Ain’t never been modest, little bird.”

She turned back to face him at that comment and shrugged,

“It’s fine. There’s just not a ton of privacy in here and I wanted to try and get you some.”

Sandor pulled the button-down over his shoulders with a quick tug. The shirt fell with a wet thud on the dusty floor and he hung it loosely on the wall. His undershirt followed it. 

“Wouldn’t happen to carry my size jeans in that bag of yours, would ya?” He grinned, playing ungrateful. 

“No, but I do have these,” She offered him a pair of joggers.

He eyed them in doubt. Still shirtless, he stepped over to where she was knelt down, forcing her to look up the length of him to meet his gaze. He took the pants and raised his eyebrows,

“A size medium? No way. I got too much goin’ on for that.”

“You could try them. They stretch,” she challenged, “I’ve seen you squeezing through those skinny fence slats. You might fit.”

“Oh, yeah? You been watching me crawlin’ through fences?”

She blushed against her will,

“No, you just- well, I mean you’re always-”

“I’m pulling your leg, birdie,” he winked, taking the cotton pants from her, “but this time you might wanna turn around.”

She turned back to her bag and pretended to look long and hard at her clothing choices. She could have sworn she had another set of pants but the only thing left was a big, long sleeve tee and another pair of tall socks. 

“Damn,” she cursed under her breath.

“What?” He returned to her side, suddenly worried. 

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just gonna change too.”

He didn’t move back as far as she thought he might, and as she began to pull off her sweater and shawl, she still felt his eyes on her. 

Lightning and thunder screamed outside their sanctuary again, spooking the cow. 

Sandor went over to her and petted her nose,

“Easy, girl.”

Sansa was just in her dress now and quite cold from being damp, but she took a handful of oats over to the cow and let her hand fall open. The cow put a big nostril next to her palm and then quickly took the oats into her mouth. 

“She needs a better name,” she lamented, looking at the cow’s tag and then back at Sandor who was staring a little too long at the top of her sun dress, “because number 0557 just doesn’t have a ring to it.”

Her dark cowboy reached out a huge, rough hand and touched the hem of her soaked dress sleeve, feeling the raised threads of one embroidered flower. 

“Daisy?” He suggested quietly, as if telling her a secret. 

He didn’t let go, and she gave him a soft smile. She felt herself reaching out to touch his face, and before she could stop it from happening, Sansa was brushing back the water from his brow and wiping the drops out of his long hair. He grabbed her hand roughly and stood full height against her, making her step back until she met the wall. He pressed himself against her body, and she could feel her wet clothes soak into his borrowed pants. The rain came down in sheets outside the small barn, pounding into the earth. 

“I’m going to get you wet,” she whispered, feeling awkward in the new, minimal space he created with his touch. His breath sped up at her obvious innuendo, the quaintness of it doing nothing to stop his blood from rushing through his legs to his cock.

He dropped her hand and she let it fall onto his neck and down his shoulder, still bare. His skin was heated and sticky from sweat, but before she could get very far with her exploration, behind them the cow loudly belted out a pained moo and shuffled into a prone position. 

Sansa gasped from the shock of the noise and laughed. Sandor laughed with her, suddenly sobered up and now feeling entirely too close to her. She saw his doubt creep up into his face and put her hand back on his neck, curling around it, pulling at the charred skin with reassurance. His eyes returned to hers as they were before, searching her face like he was waiting on her to say something. 

The pause went on for a breath too long, and Sansa began to doubt herself. Embarrassed, she bent to pull her boots off. Suddenly, like a snake strike, Sandor held her on both shoulders, giving her the same fierce expression he had displayed in her kitchen. Without warning, he grabbed the bottom hem of her dress, pulling it off of her slender body. Sansa trembled from the cold and from something else. 

Her panties were wet, and her white cotton bra was soaked through, no longer concealing her pink nipples through the cloth. They ached against the cold, and as Sandor pulled the wet dress over her head, she knew he saw them, too. He bent to kiss her mouth without hesitation, almost forcing her to bend up to meet his lips due to his height. 

He devoured her, sucking hard on her lips and finally on the length of her tongue. She moaned into him, and his hand wrapped around her small throat, begging to squeeze her breath tightly and make her cry out again. But he didn’t. He just held her there, kissing her skin and licking at her mouth like she was a melting popsicle on a summer afternoon. Sweet. Innocently delicious. 

She found the elastic of the borrowed joggers and started to run her fingers along the length. He shuddered, his mouth pausing, interrupted by the shock of her touch. She knew he was as hard as a stone. She could feel the unimaginable length of him pressing against her belly. 

She found his hardness with shaking hands, and just as gently as she could, she rubbed down his shaft with a slow, long pull. It was his turn to moan. Sandor put his head down by her neck and struck the wall with his free fist, slamming it against the wood as if he was in sudden pain. He pushed his cock through her hand again, his hips straining to get some relief. She let go of him, pulling down her panties and snapping her bra away. 

“Seven fuckin’ hells,” he growled. His voice reverberated against her neck; he was bent so close to her. 

He grabbed her hair at her nape and kissed her hard enough that she couldn’t breathe. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and moved his jaw against hers like he wanted to eat her alive. Then, without much warning, she felt his fingers between her legs, and when he found the wetness there, slicker than the rain, he moaned darkly again. Plunging a long, thick finger into her core, he began to fuck her in his hand, his other hand pumping his cock until it swelled even more than when she held it. His pants pooled around his knees, unwanted. 

She hadn’t felt a man’s finger in her core in years. Compared to her soft, lithe ministrations, the ruggedness was so very welcomed. He seemed to know just where to look to find her most vulnerable buttons to press. And gods, did he love to press them. Sandor hunted down each one, digging into her folds and massaging the skin in hungry circles. Sansa cried out as she felt herself coming undone, unspooling like a loose rope. 

After she came, Sansa felt a terrible emptiness within her as he gently removed his skillful hand from her body. But, it gave her a moment to drop to her knees and take some control. She reached out, almost as if not to spook him, and held his heavy cock, feeding him into her mouth. She worked hard to take as much in on the first try as she could. She heard Sandor gasp in a deep breath and let it out raggedly. He pulled himself out of her mouth with his hips and ever so gently pushed himself back in, softly and carefully as to not hurt her. She put her hands on his hips in reassurance, pulling him closer, even though her confidence didn’t match her actions. 

Sandor’s body reacted without his input, his hips pushing his hardness back into her mouth with more force and more depth than what may have been polite. Sansa moaned and tried to suck him in, letting her tongue roll lazily against his soft head. Shocked by her eagerness, he sucked in cold air through gritted teeth. Hungry for her, he pushed himself into her warm mouth, deeper and deeper, until he heard her gagging for a breath. 

He let her breathe and repeated the action. Pulling himself out, sliding himself back in. She felt undone, as if every time she swallowed him, his pleasure was coursing through her veins instead. 

Sandor was a mess. He’d begged God, for many moons now, for just a moment of having her on her knees before him, sucking him, licking him, milking him into submission. And now, here she was. It was better than his manifestations had ever hoped to be. 

He wanted to come in Sansa Stark’s rosy cunt. He wanted to feel her soft walls flutter and clench against his hardness. He wanted her to scream and scream until her pretty little songbird voice was lost. 

Sandor reached down to cup her cheek, pulling his cock from her lips and kneeling down to meet her on the hay-dusted floor. He kissed her again, tasting the precome that she had collected from his body. He pushed a hand up to find her soft breasts and kneaded them desperately, tugging at her nipples and making her writhe beneath his hand. Sansa looked on in awe as he bent down to suck on her skin, leaving tiny bruises behind with his fervor. She was trembling from the need to come again. Unable to voice her desires, completely at his mercy, Sansa cradled his head, fingernails digging into his neck and back, all but begging him to fuck her. 

“Please,” she whispered into his temple, “Sandor. Please. Oh, Gods, please.”

“Please what?” He growled into her neck. 

“Please fuck me. I can’t -”

Those words, like a magic spell, were all he wanted to hear. As soon as he felt his length sink into her wet pussy, he could die happy. 

“Granted,” he promised. 

He pushed her down onto the hay bale they had been sitting on and knealt over her, pushing her legs apart and guiding himself into her pink lips. His head dipped into her gently, painting her clit with her own juices, and then he filled her carefully - inch by agonizing inch. With every breath she took, he went that much deeper. She thought he might go on forever when, finally, a fullness stretched her just that much wider. She had met the base of his thick, heavy rod, and she shivered from it, legs threatening to close together from the intensity. 

He stopped her from closing herself off, forcing her long legs back down and pushing himself into her over and over, the wetness of her making delicious noises as he began to pound into her body. Her bruised, swollen breasts were exposed to the air, dress abandoned. Sandor grasped them tightly, pushing them together and pinning her down. 

She thought she might be coming, but when a true orgasm hit her, she realized she had just been tingling from his girth. Sansa came hard around him, and he pushed into her as if he wanted to feel every pulse of her racing heartbeat in her core. He could feel her fluids coat the base of his cock, the stickiness soaking his skin and matting his hair. When she let out a long moan, he bent down to squeeze and suck on her neck, whispering dark secrets into her skin, 

“Sansa. Little bird. My little bird. Fuck! What a good girl you are. Do you know how long I’ve begged the Gods to give you to me? You are the finest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. My soft little dove. This cunt was meant for me.”

He fucked her faster and harder, spurred on by her screaming his name, pleading with him to come inside of her. He listened to her mantra - come in me, come in me - and he started to lose it. Sandor was shocked to feel so powerless to her command. He started to feel thick bands of searing hot come burst into her pussy. He pushed into her body desperately, his seed leaking out of her from the pressure. He held himself fully encased in her, feeling her tremble around him, burying himself in her as deep and as long as he could stand it. 

When he slid out, he marveled at the beauty of her come-filled hole and reached out to touch it. He smeared it onto her pussy lips and pulled it onto her clit. Rubbing it into her skin like a salve, pushing it into her asshole with a gentle finger, taking some and massaging it into her nipples and breasts, feeding her with his fingers. As she suckled at his index finger he wondered if he would come again right then. 

He sat back on his heels and gazed upon her tired body. She had her eyes closed, hair braided but askew, pussy covered in his slick come, glistening with sweat. He felt like he had been in a fight. His body ached and yet there was a dark voice that told him to fuck her again. Fuck her and do nothing else. Don’t eat. Don’t sleep. Just keep on breeding her in this shitty lean-to until you die. 

She stirred. Sitting up, she reached out and grabbed his face. Whispering his name she kissed him chaste on the mouth. He could smell his scent on her lips. That dark voice screamed inside him that he wanted her to reek of his come all the time. To bathe her in it. Make her yours. She belongs to you. 

He watched her gather her strength and step into the heavy rain, letting it soak her long red hair, braids dripping rivulets down her back and ass cheeks as she experienced the shower. 

Sandor followed behind her and pulled her to him, her ass pushed against his cock. He was nearly hard again. They were both fully naked in the field, rebelliously erotic. He wrapped a hand around Sansa’s pale throat and made her arch her back to him. He took two fingers and stretched her pussy again, pushing at her wet walls. Then he pressed one wet finger into her ass. 

After quite a few gentle thrusts, she relaxed and cried out to him in a new pitch. He pushed into her farther, repeating his insertion - then out, then in, warming her up to this new challenge. The rain fell into his open gasping mouth. She screamed at his thrusting. He pushed a second finger into her, her hole now accustomed to his rhythm. Then, he pulled out of her entirely and she felt that terrible emptiness return. 

Sandor tossed her on all fours in the mud, frantically kneeling behind her, muddy himself, and he began to stuff his head into her asshole. She felt full in a way she never had, and she noticed her body trying to push back into him and meet his thrusts. It was as if she couldn’t stand being without his hardness. 

Finally, after an eternity of stretching out muscles that had almost never been used, he began to fuck her ass with a sure, slow rhythm. He watched the raindrops pool on the small of her pale back, poorly illuminated by the single barn light. She was grunting loudly, yelling with a deep guttural shout at each and every moment his cock slid into her. It made him crazy. He reached down and began to finger fuck her pussy again, filling her, splitting her, and he could feel the intrusion of his own dick through her skin. He watched as her hole stretched open to fit him. She screamed louder, unable to hold back from his assault, enslaved to the onslaught of his pleasure. 

“Sandor, I want you to come in me. I want your come. I wanna feel you come again. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long. Sandor.”

He was thrilled to oblige. Sandor grabbed her hips and started to stuff himself into her ass with a new purpose. He was shouting at every thrust along with her. Her tightness and wetness and warmth was too intense for him to bear. When it was almost time, that shadowy voice returned, telling him to breed her again. To fill her womb with his seed and make her carry his come in her until they drove back to the house in the morning. He didn’t make it, as just the idea of it pushed him over the edge. Thinking about her full of his seed, smelling like him, full of him - it was too much. Her ass took his load from him, and as he removed his cock from her, he watched it mix with the rain and trickle from her asshole, falling into the dip of her cunt and into the cold mud below. 

Sansa fell back against him, panting, needing him to care for her. He lifted her up and carried her back to the blanket, turning to grab a towel from his bag, originally meant for the cow. 

Clean again, she used the towel  to dry off and put on the long sleeve tee and new pair of socks from her bag. She did not put on her wet panties. Instead, she sat back on the blanket cross-legged, letting him watch as his come dripped out of her, laying back as she caught her breath.

“Sandor, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. If I had known -”

“I won’t wait any longer. Be with me, little bird.”

She smirked knowingly at him, crawling into his lap and promising into his ear,

“Granted.”

taking a break from our regularly-scheduled COD programing to celebrate these two menaces <3 <3 don't worry, john price will be right back, i swear.