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flowerandblood · 4 months ago

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The Lost Haven (11/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, the angst, semi-public intimacy, cockwarming, description of someone being shot, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He got his girlfriend back.

Not quite in the way he had imagined, but the thought of him being her boyfriend and her taking it seriously made him feel a wave of confidence after years of doubt.

It had to do not so much with the fact that he had gained what he wanted, but rather with the idea that although his grandfather had accustomed him to the thought that there was a path for him only by his side, he now knew otherwise.

Criston Cole had been the first person to reveal to him how tense the situation was among their men, how furious they were that Otto had decided out of sheer spite to bet on Aegon, his pawn, putting too much power in his hands.

Aegon's orders and the fact that some of their bodyguards now had to listen to him made them turn to him, looking for another alternative.

He was their alternative and presented them with his plan.

Having known them for so many years, aware of what their strengths and weaknesses were, he assigned them tasks, spreading his net over the city, slowly tightening the noose around all the places that had ever belonged to Larys Strong.

He had promised his Rhaenys that he would never kill or harm anyone again, at least not in the way he had done so far, so he decided to rely on his wits and logic. He offered the old owners to help pay their debts and cooperate with them in exchange for them giving up the clubs without a fight.

Those who did not agree experienced a loud gunfight and a bit of fear: he paid the police in advance to stay out of it, so no police car came to the addresses indicated even when someone called the police station.

His grandfather was furious and that pleased him most of all.

By focusing on the fight with Daemon he had completely let go of the subject of Larys' legacy and had paid the price. He also felt pride, because in a way he had regained what belonged to the father of the woman he loved, so it was also a tribute to her.

She only allowed him to see her once a week, but they wrote to each other constantly: he out of sheer longing, she to make sure he was still alive.

Sitting on the couch in Heavenly Beach, despite his employees sitting around him, partying with the girls who were apparently most attracted to gangsters, he sat with his head in his phone, writing a message to her, feeling like a teenager in high school.

He grinned involuntarily as he read her reply, feeling the thrill as he did every time she teased him.

She was trying to keep him at a distance and push him away, he knew that.

He swallowed hard when, a moment later, his phone vibrated and his eyes were presented with a photograph of her lying on her stomach, on her body only her panties and top, from under which a little fragment of her breast was peeking out, pressed against the sheet, her loose hair spread in disarray, her lips parted in a sweet, dreamy, warm expression.

He stared at the picture for a moment, feeling involuntarily that he grew hot, his manhood swollen in his trousers. He ran his hand over his chin, sinking into the world of his fantasies, having not been able to experience fulfilment with her for weeks despite her allowing him to touch her.

Partly.

"What are you doing, boss? Have some fun with us. Alice is lovely and lonely." Said Allan, embracing one of the girls, pretty and slim, who giggled quietly, looking him boldly straight in the face.

He got up without a word and went out the back exit to smoke a cigarette, dialing her phone number on the way. She didn't answer for a long time, as was her usual habit, but after a while he heard her sigh on the other end, indicating her impatience.

"– I asked you so many times – why are you doing this? –"

"– I wanted to hear your voice –" He hummed, taking a drag, tilting his head back, enjoying this moment.

Silence answered him on the other side.

"– my grandfather is trying to contact me – to make a deal – to make me his successor again – but I don't know if I want it – what do you think? –" He asked, taking a drag again, the tip of his cigarette turning red with a quiet hiss.

He heard her swallow hard, horrified by his words.

"– don't do it – don't go back there –" She whispered.

They were both silent for a long moment.

"– I'm worried about my mother – she's torn between Criston and her father, she's begging me to come back – she and Cole had an affair for many years, even before my father died –" He said indifferently, looking up at the sky, spotting the outline of a crescent moon among the darkness.

"– did you know about this? –" She asked shocked, and he sighed heavily.

"– yes –"

His girlfriend grunted, trying to speak quietly.

"– she's not part of all this – let her stay out of it – your grandfather's reign won't last forever – Otto wants you to worry about such things – he knows you love and care for her – he'll treat her and Helaena as bargaining chips –"

He nodded, letting out a loud puff of smoke through his nose, having exactly the same opinion as her, surprised at how much peace he felt.

She was the only one who could understand him.

She was the only one he could get advice from.

She was the only one he could trust.

"Thank you. Sleep well."

"I'm here for you." She muttered quickly, as if she feared he was about to hang up.

He hummed under his breath, extinguishing the remnants of his cigarette on the metal basket, feeling the warmth in his heart at her words.

"I know."

The next day, the sight of her in the library filled him with both euphoria and frustration – he knew she wasn't wearing a bra to annoy him, at the same time tempting him when he knew he couldn't take her, and wanting him to know that any other men could look shamelessly at her nipples.

All his anger at her and what she was doing to him vanished when she pulled her shirt off, her half-naked body covered from the others only by a few rows of bookcases.

Thank goodness it was summer and no one went there.

Her nipples were swollen and hard under his tongue, her breast plump and soft between his fingers. The smell of her naked skin, the heat that emanated from her, her hands clenched in his hair, holding him close drove him mad. His groan vibrated through her soft skin as he felt her hips begin to roll deliberately back and forth, rubbing against his throbbing, swollen manhood.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He mumbled, switching from one of her breasts to the other, slightly larger, which could not be seen at first glance.

The thought of being so close to her and yet not being able to have all of her, like he had then, that night, was driving him crazy.

This was her punishment for what he had done to her.

He sighed as she rose suddenly from her knees, putting her T-shirt over her head, his hand involuntarily going to her calf, wanting to hold her, his body hot with desire, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Not yet.

Just a moment longer.

"– baby –"

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, throwing him a calm, expectant look, like a teacher looking at her student.

He swallowed hard and stood up with her, shocked, his length pulsed hard at her words.

I'll let you sleep with me.

"– do you mean it? –" He asked with difficulty, unsure if he could stand it any longer, if he knew whether he could pass the next test she wanted to put before him.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained as if nothing had ever happened, grabbing her backpack.

He caught her around the waist and pulled her aggressively to himself, making her body slam into his, his heart in his throat.

"– promise me –"

Instead of words, she did what she'd forbidden him to do since they'd started dating: her wonderfully moist, swollen lips pressed against his, and he groaned loudly, shocked. He sighed, pressing her body closer to his as her slick tongue slid between his teeth, licking him invitingly, making his cock swell painfully hard in his trousers.

I'm not going to make it, he thought, I'm just going to rip her panties off and fuck her on the floor.

She, however, pushed him away, looking at him with her mouth wide open, in her eyes pleading, warmth, affection.

Everything he wanted so badly.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled out with a pain from which he felt his heart squeeze, not knowing how to act, feeling with desperation that he was unable to wait any longer.

"– I love you –" He muttered, something in her gaze from which he grew hot.

"– I love you too –"

He stared at her like an idiot, feeling like he was running out of breath, because here she was, for the first time responding to his confession, for the first time saying those words.

I love you too.

He felt something inside him break, that if he didn't feel her right away he would just start crying.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled and walked out, leaving him alone.

He thought it was pathetic that he was so desperate that he hid his face in his hands and burst out crying.

He longed for her closeness, for her tenderness, and she only gave him moments when he craved hours, days, months.

He thought heaven and earth might collapse, but he had to go to these goddamn excavations, if only to spend two weeks fucking her all night.

"Two weeks? You shouldn't disappear for that long. The situation is precarious." Said Cole, shaking his head, sitting with him over a drink that same evening.

"I'll be available at night, I'll come by a few times to keep an eye on things. It's only a two-hour drive from here. This case is really important to me." He said, and Criston hummed with understanding.

"I'll do my best, but let's keep in touch."

He nodded at his words.

"Call if something happens."

Even the news that perhaps her ex would be part of their escapade couldn't spoil his mood: he wasn't sure he'd been this excited and terrified at the same time since he was a small child.

On the one hand, it was a dream come true for him, on top of it being in her company; on the other, it was a leap into the deep end of the unknown in a group of people who were strangers and who he didn't know if they would accept him.

He couldn't help the fact that he didn't like to talk much, that others' questions made him uncomfortable, that he felt cornered when too many people looked at him at once.

Nevertheless, as soon as he got the message from her that Daemon had been gone for a few hours, waiting a few streets behind the hotel so as not to arouse suspicion, he pulled up in the car park and got out of the car, looking around.

He thought she would be waiting for him, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

This made him do what he hated to do, which was to ask a stranger something.

A couple of students, looking at him with surprise in their eyes, showed him the way, telling him that his girlfriend was in the area where the research was to take place.

Walking there from a distance, he thought with awe that it was a huge project: there was a gigantic stone fortress towering over them, around which he understood there had been many wooden houses in medieval times, of which there was now no trace.

He swallowed hard when he heard her voice from afar and stepped uncertainly into one of the tents, all eyes on him.

He felt warmth in his heart seeing that she smiled at the sight of him, her eyes shining with pure happiness.

She loved him.

Not even the rage at the sight of Robb could take away the satisfaction he felt at what he had done to her, at the ease with which her body had taken him in as soon as the door from their hotel room had closed behind them.

He wasn't sure if his brain was functioning at all during this act, because he was too stunned by pleasure and desire, the simple, primitive thrusting into her again and again with low, pathetic groans of delight.

She was so wonderfully warm, moist and soft, squeezing and enveloping his cock so perfectly, that he felt like crying.

His niece.

That night they made love twice more, completely bare, with no shame or regret, no thoughts of morality or propriety. What he focused on were her moans, her cunt squeezing him in convulsions of pleasure, dripping with her desire, his lips melting with hers in sticky, loud, deep kisses full of their tongues and saliva, their fingers entwined together in a tender embrace over her head.

They fell asleep cuddled into each other like little children, stirring with difficulty on the single, cramped bed exactly as they had then, eight years ago.

He felt, looking at her peaceful face immersed in sleep every time he awoke in the night, that he had regained something.

He had regained her.

In the morning, to their frustration, their alarm clock woke them up. They were both sleepy and half-unconscious when they showered together, soaping each other's bodies and hair, brushing their lips lazily against each other's, running their hands over each other's naked, wet bodies.

There was something wonderfully natural about the way her figure clung to his, seeking refuge in his embrace, his arms pressing her against his body, his hand stroking her hair, her eyes closed in complete peace.

They both felt it.

His niece froze and blinked when she saw him start to dress, putting on exactly the same clothes as usual.

"No. After all, we will be working in sand and dirt. I told you to take something to change into." She said, and he scratched his chin, recognising that perhaps, indeed, his black trousers and Tshirt were not a good idea for such heat.

"I took my tracksuit bottoms and some other old clothes, but I won't look very neat in that." He confessed with embarrassment, rummaging through his bag.

She knelt down beside him, looking through his things together, apparently trying to find something that would be suitable.

"You have to be comfortable first and foremost. And you have to have a baseball cap."

"What?"

"I took one for you. Otherwise you'll get sunstroke."

It occurred to him, when he'd put on everything she'd told him to, that he looked like a drunk from under the shop. He was relieved when it turned out that she herself had dressed in a similar way, a white Tshirt and tracksuit shorts on her body, a baseball cap on her head, her hair tied up in a braid.

If they were going to look like drunks from under the shop, then at least together.

As soon as they reached the tent where they were all supposed to gather it became apparent that if he had come dressed the way he wanted to, he would have made an idiot of himself.

They all looked alike, dressed in bright, light clothes that might as well have been pyjamas. He pressed his lips together, spotting Robb among the other students.

He hoped he had heard her moans as he walked past their room.

How good she felt with him as he took her for himself again and again.

The professor greeted them and assigned them their tasks. To his surprise and relief at the same time, the man divided them into three groups. One was to be led by himself, another by Robb and the third by his girlfriend.

Her words that she was his assistant and how much the professor trusted her were not mere boasts, he thought with admiration.

He had, of course, been assigned to her group and was relieved at the thought that for the rest of his stay he wouldn't have to look at her ex any more than necessary.

His Rhaenys knew most of the people she worked with, who were simply her colleagues from the lower years of their studies. They had specific spaces designated for research and their task for the day was simple: digging.

Of course, the upper layers of the earth were removed by special excavators, but at some point they had to work by hand so as not to destroy any artifacts hidden beneath the surface.

There was something liberating and relaxing about the fact that this activity of driving a shovel deep into the ground and digging a big hole in it didn't require him to think too much.

After a few hours, he already understood why his niece had made him put a baseball cap on his head and why they had each brought a couple of big bottles of water for themselves: sweat was running down his back from the heat and from time to time he had to take a break to drink.

To his relief, even though the people in the group were talking to each other, fooling around and laughing, they didn't drag him into any discussions or distract him from his work. Rhaenys was digging too, approaching each person when they expressed the opinion that they might have come across some historical relic.

After only half an hour, one of the girls stumbled upon a coin from the 19th century.

The real excitement he felt was when his shovel hit something that clanked as if it were made of metal.

"Rhaenys?" He called, and though the people around him didn't know who he meant, his niece walked up to him, cocking her head in curiosity, her face all pink with exertion.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, and he hit the spot he had just dug with his shovel again, intending to make the same sound.

His discovery piqued interest.

He crouched down, letting his girlfriend, more experienced and confident in what she was doing, take the smaller shovel, digging around the object, one of her colleagues took the brush, shaking the dust off its surface.

"It's a German pistol. Second World War. Very good condition." He stated, and his girlfriend nodded.

"Yes, the Germans were in this fortress in the 1940s. Good job, Aemond, secure it and sign it. Give this object a number as I explained to you this morning." She said, patting him on the back, and he nodded.

"Your first find. Feels cool, doesn't it?" Said the boy, whose name he understood was Cregan, but he didn't know what he was supposed to answer him, feeling uncomfortable at the thought that everyone was looking at him.

"Yeah." He muttered, looking down at his knuckles, for some reason losing the confidence he gained at night in clubs when he was about to put a gun to someone's head.

When he wasn't about to hurt or scare someone he was helpless and didn't know how to act.

They had spent the whole day doing manual labour and although his erection had swollen all over feeling her naked body pressed against his under the refreshing shower, he didn't even have the strength to move, let alone fuck her hard.

So he ended up making soft, tender love to her, his hips rocking lazily inside her, sinking again and again into the tightness of her sticky, throbbing cunt.

Her naked back was nestled against his sweaty chest, his face snuggled against the hollow of her neck as his fingers dug deeper into her fleshy folds with her quiver of pleasure, his free hand holding her thigh spread wide, allowing him to reach as deep as possible with the tip of his erection.

"– no – it hurts –" She muttered, and he froze and stopped moving, rising up on his elbow, his breath deep and heavy, his heart pounding fast in his chest.

"– what, baby? –" He whispered, placing a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek, wanting to make amends to her for whatever he had done to her. She turned her face towards him, stroking his bare arm.

"– when you're too deep – it hurts –" She confessed.

"– 'm sorry –" He hummed, their lips joined in a sticky, wet, tender kiss. He ran the tip of his nose over her face, his cock twitching deep inside her while his thumb teased her swollen clit with lazy, circular motions, her body twitching again and again in pleasure.

He swallowed hard as she rose up and slid his erection out of her, thinking with horror that she had had enough of him and intended to sleep separately, she, however, turned to face him. He sighed, surprised, as her fingers gently grasped the base of his manhood, all soaked from her wetness, directing the swollen, pink head of it against her slit.

With a tentative, slow thrust of his hips he opened her on his fat length, sliding into her slick walls with ease, sinking anew into her wonderful warmth that soothed him.

He moaned softly as she threw her arms around his neck, as her bare breasts pressed against his chest, as her puffy, sweet lips joined his in a greedy, deep kiss full of affection and tenderness. He sank his fingers into the soft skin of her back and buttocks, beginning to pound into her anew, feeling her completely differently in this angle.

They began to pant into each other's throats, licking and teasing each other, a wonderful shudder shook his body as her lips traveled lower, to his jaw, to his neck, to his shoulders, kissing and sucking on him, leaving wet, warm marks behind.

"– fuck – ah –" He exhaled, feeling his cock throbbing hard inside her fleshy walls, the wonderful tingling in his lower abdomen and testicles filling his head with utter emptiness, pure desire to fill her with his seed.

Their foreheads pressed against each other and their bodies intertwined in a loving, close embrace as they began to chase their fulfilment, loud, sticky splats building their way to release.

"– u-uncle – 'm close –" She mewled like a child, her sweet, leaking cunt beginning to clench on his cock, sucking it inside her. He kissed her temple, snuggling her into his body, slamming into her with loud grunts of pleasure.

"– me too, baby – my sweet little girl –" He exhaled and threw his head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering relief, his erection beginning to pulsate deep inside her, filling her with his semen.

She moaned, rising and falling on his quivering erection, reaching her own peak with a innocent, girlish moan of delight, sending him into a state of complete ecstasy. They hugged each other, saying nothing more, not separating their bodies, wanting to remain as they were now, as close as possible.

The presence of her body right beside him, the fact that her sticky pussy was warming his soft manhood, his arms and hands entwined in a tender embrace made him sleep a stony, peaceful sleep, tired and satisfied.

To his relief, Criston had kept him informed of the state of affairs and it appeared that relative calm prevailed apart from a few minor incidents, so his presence on the scene was not necessary for the time being.

He took malicious satisfaction in the moments when his niece would be called by Daemon, wanting to make sure she was okay. She would talk to him on the phone while his hands traveled over her naked body, stroking her thighs, belly and breasts, his lips brushing gently against the skin of her neck, merely teasing her.

She usually tried to pull away from him when his thumb, seemingly by accident, ran over her nipple, when his fingers sank tentatively into her womanhood, leaking all over from her moisture and his spend with which he had filled her moments before.

Although he was a grown man, he felt like he was a child again.

In the days that followed, he felt that he loosened up a bit with the group of people he had to work with – he didn't talk to them and concentrated on his tasks, but it seemed to him that they simply stopped paying attention to him, which suited him. They were not spiteful or unpleasant about it: they apparently recognised that this was his nature and left him alone.

His Rhaenys was a different person at work: she smiled and joked a lot, easily having dozens of conversations with all sorts of people, even those she didn't know, winning their sympathy. He somehow admired how unforced her talkativeness, assertiveness and empathy were, how easily she made difficult decisions when others were panicking.

"– fuck – I think I broke it –" Cregan said, leaning over something that looked from a distance like a vase still half-buried in the ground.

"– call the restorers – get them to secure the cavities so nothing else breaks and they're able to put it back together later –" She said without a trace of annoyance or aggression. The boy nodded in agreement and stepped out of the big, wide hole they were sitting in, doing exactly what she'd told her.

"You're good at this." He stated as they sat alone at breakfast break under one of the trees, looking at the large stone fortress stretching out before their eyes.

Although their group sat elsewhere, she chose to stay with him, as she always did.

He felt an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart at the thought that, as much as he wanted to, he didn't fit in with neither her friends nor the world.

He was a perpetual obstacle to her, a wall between what she deserved and the miserable scraps she suffered in his presence through his vanity.

She looked at him and cocked her head, a wide smile on her face.

She was happy.

"What do you mean?" She asked, in some natural reflex cuddling her face into his, her hand on his shoulder. He kissed the tip of her nose, stroking her skin with his palm, feeling a subconscious surge of desire, as he always did when she showed him tenderness and interest.

"You're made for this job. For being with these people. But you need to sit with me instead." He muttered wearily, looking down at his fingers in shame.

"I don't have to. No one is forcing me to."

"You're afraid that if you leave me, I'll become the way I was. You're paying the price for my satisfaction."

She leaned in, wanting to look at his face, but he closed his eyes, feeling shame and regret, for some reason unable to enjoy it all, to relax, to let go.

"You would want this, wouldn't you? For me to disappoint you. To pack up and go home, to escape what is uncomfortable for you. Loneliness is safe, I know that better than anyone. But if you want to be alone, what are you doing here?" She asked.

He looked at her and shook his head, feeling tears burning under his eyelids.

"I don't know. I feel good and bad at the same time. I'm fulfilling my dream, I have you, but I can't enjoy it all because in the back of my mind I'm wondering if Cole is going to call me at night to tell me all hell has broken loose. It's like what's going on right now is a dream, and I'm aware that I'm going to wake up. As if I have to watch something I know I'll lose one day." He mouthed, bursting out crying, choking on his own tears. He covered his ears with his hands and leaned his head between his knees, panting loudly, feeling like he was just experiencing a panic attack.

"– God, Aemond – calm down – calm down, I'm here – this isn't a dream – my feelings for you – the fact that you're here – it's all real – don't you feel it? –" She asked in a whisper, enclosing him in the warm, safe embrace of her arms, pressing his face between her breasts where he took refuge.

He closed his eyes, concentrating only on her fingers combing through his hair, on her warmth, on her scent, on the softness of her body.

She didn't let go of him for a moment, stroking his head, neck and back, placing a tender kiss on his temple once in a while. Slowly his breathing calmed, the pounding of his heart slowed, and his body relaxed in her soft, caring, loving arms.

She let him settle on her thighs, let him snuggle into her lap: she stroked him like a small child, saying nothing, letting him just be, drawing on her closeness, her understanding, her wisdom and kindness.

He thought that if he could die now, in her embrace, he would be happy.

Her words and closeness gave him comfort and for that afternoon, looking at her from afar, sitting on the sand, he thought he was truly happy.

Truly at peace.

And then he saw five missed calls from Cole and one message from him.

"I'll go with you." She said, watching as he changed into his normal clothes.

"No fucking way." He growled, looking at her with impatience, wanting her to get the idea out of her head.

"I'll be waiting for you in the car. Don't leave me alone." She begged.

"No. I'll be back before dawn. I promise." He said, kissing her forehead quickly and left, feeling that if he looked at her again, he wouldn't be able to drive there.

Some part of him dreaded going back there, as if being in the light for so long would blind him to the point where he wouldn't be able to see anything in the dark.

Late in the evening, he arrived at Heavenly Beach and went inside, asking one of the bodyguards what had happened. The man nodded towards one of the lodges – his brother was spread out in the company of three girls enjoying himself at his best, buying everyone a round of shots.

"He didn't pay for anything, boss. He says you're the one paying for the booze and the whores tonight."

He moved towards him feeling his jaw clench in rage, the loud music around him ringing in his ears, the twinkling lights around him making him feel like he was about to vomit.

Aegon spotted him and stood up from the couch, pointing at him with his hand.

"Here is my brother. To him you owe such a great party tonight, applause for him!" He called out, the drunken part of the club guests echoed him in euphoria, but the rest were silent, looking at them with concern.

"I think my brother drank too much." He said coldly, towering over him after a moment, looking at him with a dispassionate gaze. "And he doesn't know that he's going to pay for what he ordered and the women he brought with him himself."

"And where's your woman? Hm? Our pretty niece. Did you know, guys, that he kissed her when they were kids? He was already fucked up then." Aegon sneered, taking a loud sip of whisky from his glass, embracing one of his women, a pretty, blue-eyed blonde with his arm.

His men looked at each other in dismay, apart from the background music all around them complete silence.

"Get up, take your whores and get out of my club. Now." He said in a voice that didn't bear objecting, but Aegon only laughed and sighed.

"You know what the worst part is? He's still fucking her. My father was lying dead and he was in the next room banging that poor girl. Tell us, did you rape her? You surely did, she would never want you of her own free will. But in what position? Missionary? No, no, I know! In doggy-style, like a hound. You have always been faithful like a dog. Woof, woof!" He scoffed, and something snapped inside him.

His brother froze, looking at him with big eyes as he pointed his gun straight at his forehead, the girls around him squealed in terror and broke out of his embrace, moving as far away from them as they could.

"– wow, wow, wow – calm down, have you completely lost your fucking mind? –" Aegon asked in a trembling voice, raising his hands in a gesture of submission, and for some reason he grinned broadly.

"– I didn't rape her – she wanted it – we did it a few more times after that – she was always good to me, unlike you – we're together now, you know? –" He hummed, cocking his head with an expression of satisfaction on his face, thinking in the back of his mind that this was who he just was, who he wanted to become.

He felt powerful, strong, invincible.

"– what the fuck are you talking about? –" Aegon muttered, shaking his head as if he thought his younger brother had simply gone mad.

He, however, had never felt his mind so sharp and focused before.

"– our grandfather made you his successor to reason with me – before our father died he said he would pass everything on to me and that was his original plan – but after Larys put the rape pill in her drink, I couldn't let him live – I don't expect you to understand that though – loyalty, devotion, affection – look at you – you must have pissed your pants with fear, am I wrong? – stand up, show yourself to everyone –" He sneered, raising his voice defiantly so that everyone could hear him.

There was complete silence all around them.

"– I said stand up –" He growled seeing that his brother was looking at him with big eyes red from tears, his mouth quivering in horror and humiliation.

Yes, he thought.

Feel what I felt.

He, completely naked then, standing up to his waist in water, his face all swollen from tears.

"– it's an unpleasant feeling, hm? – humiliation –" He said, watching as Aegon stood up slowly, the large, dark stain on his light-coloured trousers suggesting he was right.

He grinned at him and thought that such a lesson would be enough for him, lowering his gun, but his brother threw himself at him, climbing onto the table, wanting to get him with his own hands, and in a subconscious, involuntary reflex he fired.

His brother gasped heavily, as if surprised, and grabbed himself by the stomach, falling backwards onto the couch, another dark spot forming where he pressed his hand.

"– you fucking shot me –" He mumbled out, and he shook his head, feeling his whole body freeze, people around him screaming and running away, his and Aegon's bodyguards starting to shoot at each other, causing a general panic.

Cole grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him towards the side exit, saying loudly that they should call an ambulance.

He saw her sweet face, felt the embrace of her warm arms, her moist lips placing tender kisses on his face.

He thought that if Aegon died, she would never forgive him.

He promised her that whatever happened, he wouldn't be a murderer.

"– this son of a bitch has to survive – do you understand? –" He said and turned, running up the stairs, several of his bodyguards moving towards his brother, trying to stop the bleeding.

Criston nodded and pulled out his phone to make a call to the hospital.

By the time he walked him to his car the ambulance was on its way.

"– get out of here – hide somewhere – you shot him low in the stomach – I think he'll make it – I'll let you know when I find out something –"

He nodded and sit inside the car, hearing the gunshots again – Criston fell to the ground and hid under one of the trucks while he started to back up and with a squeal of tyres drove ahead.

Only now, heading ahead through streets full of lamplight did he wonder what he had actually done.

He had shot his brother.

He told him their secret.

Everyone heard it, Daemon would find out, and she would be in danger.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, thinking that he just wanted Aegon to feel what he had felt for so many years, that he wanted to teach him a lesson, show him who was in charge, who was better, smarter, cleverer.

Who was the better son, the better brother, the better lover, the better man.

But for the first time he asked himself, was he really better than him?

He was just as scared, just as helpless, just as small.

He had nearly killed his older brother.

That thought, and the realisation that Aegon really might not have made it, caused him to burst into a loud, hysterical sob, and cover his mouth with his hand, trying to silence the sound that was coming from it.

As he drove ahead all he could feel was fear, fear of her gaze, her disgust, her rejection.

Why would she want to be at the side of someone like him?

When he arrived it was almost morning, dozens of missed calls from her and messages asking if and when he would be back were evidence that she had been up all night.

Before he walked into their room, he stood outside the door for a moment, wondering how he was supposed to explain this to her, what to say so she wouldn't tell him to pack up and get out of her life.

He had ruined everything.

When he opened the door he had the feeling that his whole body was quivering, stiff and tense: her gaze, her eyes and cheeks were red from tears, her eyebrows arched in pain told him that she was convinced that he had left her, that he had deceived her, that he had used her again.

She rose and wanted to throw herself into his arms, but he spoke up faster, not wanting to deceive her.

"I shot Aegon."

She stopped in her half-step, looking at him in disbelief, her expression seeming as if she hadn't understood what he'd said.

"What?"

He drew in a loud breath, feeling that he was a little boy again, a terrified child who had broken a very expensive, valuable vase and had to explain why it had happened.

"He was fucking mocking me. He implied that I raped you. In my own club. In front of my men." He muttered as if it changed anything, realising how pathetic he sounded.

The thought that he had lost everything again, that there was no way she could forgive him made him hide his face in his hands and just weep.

All he wanted was for her to hug him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that she knew he had hurt and abused him all his life, that she had witnessed it herself.

That she understood that something had simply snapped inside him.

"Is he...is he dead?"

He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself, his breath heavy and hitched in panic, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"I don't know. I shot him in the stomach and he's in hospital. He threw himself at me and scared me and I just fired. He saw I had a fucking gun in my hand!" He exclaimed as if he was ten years old and had just told his mum why his brother was lying unconscious on the floor after their fight.

"So you didn't kill him, did you? You didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. He scared you and you fired, but if he hadn't, you wouldn't have shot him." She said slowly in a trembling, terrified voice, and he lowered his hands, looking at her with big eyes, thinking that some part of him wanted to kill him then.

And then he remembered that after he felt that justice had been done, his hand with the gun lowered.

"– I – I just wanted him to stop laughing – he asked if I acted like a dog when I raped you – and I – God, baby, I told him about us in front of everyone – that we are together –" He mouthed, shaking his head, feeling completely naked, her expression of sadness and disappointment made him just sit on the bed, hide his face in his hands and cry, cry, cry.

"– I didn't mean it – I didn't know what to do – he wanted to humiliate me – me and you by spreading such rumours – I decided it was better to tell the truth than – I don't know – I'm so sorry –" He mumbled, himself not knowing where he was going with this thought, feeling a huge, cold emptiness.

He tensed all over hearing her footsteps, lifting his gaze to her, thinking for some reason that she was going to slap him.

She, however, knelt between his thighs, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

"– it would have come out eventually anyway – Aemond, I need to know what is going on inside your mind – if you –"

She asked, but was interrupted by the sound of his phone. He took it quickly out of his pocket seeing that his mother was calling him and swallowed hard feeling that he couldn't do it.

"– pick up – you have to do it, maybe she knows if Aegon is alive –"

But what if his brother was dead?

If he killed him with his own hands?

"– I can't – I don't want to –"

"– Aemond – prove to me who you are – take responsibility –"

He covered his face with his hand as he answered and put his phone to his ear.

"– is he alive? –" He muttered.

"– thank God yes – Aemond –" Alicent said, but he didn't let her finish, afraid of what she wanted to tell him.

That he had already been disgusting as a child and was a disgusting man now too.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, Mum, it was an accident, I swear – he was drunk and he threw himself at me seeing that I had a gun in my hand and I just –"

"– I know – Aegon told me everything – he admitted he provoked you – but I don't understand how you could have let this happen – you are brothers – you almost killed each other for what? – for a few bags of drugs, thick files of money? –" She asked, and he closed his eyes, warm tears one after another flowing down his cheeks.

"– he said I raped her –"

Alicent was silent for a moment.

"– where are you now? – come to the hospital – apologise to each other, explain everything, start all over again –" His mother pleaded, but he wasn't sure if there was anything left that they could fix.

"– I don't know if I want to see him ever again, Mum – I want to rest – let him know I hope he recovers quickly and that I'm sorry –" He muttered and hung up, feeling he had nothing more to say to her.

His niece looked at him in pain, her hands on his thighs as she knelt between his legs.

If Alys had been sitting in her place, all he would have thought about was putting his cock down her throat, but in her case, there was something in her expression that made him crave something completely different, but equally intense.

"– please, embrace me –" He mumbled out, before hot tears again ran down his face one by one, his sobs so pitiful that she stood up quickly, frightened, and let their silhouettes fall together on the bed.

It wasn't until her arms hugged him into her chest, when his hands closed on her back, that he felt his whole body trembling.

"– close your eyes – breathe –" She whispered, pressing her cheek to the top of his head, her fingers combing lazily through his short hair.

He did as she said and tried to focus only on the air he was letting in and out of his mouth, all around them the quiet singing of birds amid the rising sun.

"– don't leave me –" He muttered, snuggling tighter into her warm, familiar body, her wonderful scent filling his entire lungs.

He heard her sigh softly, her hand stroked his back reassuringly.

"– I know how much you are suffering – I am here – you are safe now –" She said, and he felt his heart stop for a moment.

I know how much you are suffering.

I am here.

You are safe now.

He had longed to hear this from his mother, his father, his brother, from her for so many years that when it finally happened his body just froze.

"– I love you –" He whispered, however differently than usual, feeling like he was suffocating. "– God, I love you so much –"

His niece texted her friend that she and him had poisoned themselves with something and that they would come to work later, wanting him to take at least a little nap, knowing that he would fall into despair if she left him alone even for a moment.

He fell asleep only when he unbuttoned her shirt and cuddled his face between her bare, plump breasts, the warmth and softness of her naked body, her long fingers running over his head soothed him.

Despite what he feared, she understood him.

It's always been this way.

When she woke him, telling him she had to go, he begged her to just let him stay as he was, her skin warm and drenched with her scent, his body pressed against hers in a natural, vulnerable embrace.

"– I have to – I should have been there hours ago – but you stay, get some sleep –" She whispered, stroking his head. His eyebrows arched in pain as he shook his head at her words, roaming his hands over her body in a gesture of desperation, trying to stop her.

"– no – no –"

"– Aemond – please –" She said in pain, pressing him against her again hearing his heavy, loud breath, tears squeezing into his eyes.

She sighed.

"– come with me then –"

And he did, because he didn't want to be alone.

When they went outside for the first time she took his hand in hers, exactly like when they were little children playing on the beach. He tried to control himself, but the squeeze in his throat was proof that he wanted to cry again.

He was so exhausted.

"– don't work today – sit under the tree – I'll be next to you –" She said when they got there, but he shook his head and squeezed her fingers tighter between his own.

She looked at him with a gaze in which he saw everything – worry, affection, concern, sadness, understanding, desire. He felt his heart grow hot as his free hand rose to her face, running gently over her jawline, and she nuzzled her cheek into it, closing her eyes.

He leaned in and kissed her as if it was the most natural thing he'd ever done – her lips welcomed him with gentleness and tenderness, parting before his tongue, letting him slide it lazily inside. Her fingers stroked his neck as they clung to each other, sunk only in that sweet, sticky pleasure, humming contentedly, not caring if anyone saw it.

And then he heard it.

The screech of tyres.

By the time he heard her squeal and turned to see what was happening Daemon was already standing in front of him, his fist hit him in the face so hard that he fell to the ground, losing his hearing for a moment.

"– STOP IT –" He heard her scream as her step-father turned him onto his back, punching him with his fist again, again and again, warm liquid trickled from his nose, but he did not resist.

"– I promised you this –" He hissed with rage. "– I promised you that if you didn't leave her alone, I would kill you with my own hands –"

"– DAD, STOP – STOP, STOP, STOP –" She whimpered, trying to pull him away, several people interrupted their work, wanting to see what was happening, looking at this scene in disbelief.

Finally, professor Addams and Robb came out of the tent, hearing loud screams outside.

"– what is the meaning of this? – stop immediately, that's my student! –" The professor shouted. Daemon laughed and stood up from his knees, pointing his finger at her.

"– and that's my daughter and I'm taking her home –"

"– no –"

Daemon looked at her in a way that made her tremble with fear, his jaw clenched as tightly as if it was about to burst.

"– with you I will speak later –" He growled.

"– I won't go with you –"

Daemon wanted to grab her arm, and in a natural reaction he wanted to get up and protect her, however he was preceded by Robb, standing between her and her father.

"– she said no – she's an adult – should I call the police? – he can sue you for assault, you know that? –" He asked, a long, heavy silence fell around them.

He stood up, looking at him, then at her, Daemon's gaze fixed on her face.

"– if you don't come back with me, I can no longer protect you – you will break your mother's heart –" He said coldly, his words intended only for her.

He looked at her in horror, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

Her gaze when her eyes finally turned towards him was full of fear that because of him she would lose her future, her family, her peace of mind and everything she had before he stormed into her life again.

"– you promised me –" He muttered in a trembling voice, looking only at her, the only person who could give him what he desired.

She had promised him that if he tried, if he came here, if he changed, they would spend two weeks together.

"– I did –" She whispered and he felt his heart stop, convinced that this was it.

Their end.

"– let's get back to work –" She said and turned as if nothing had happened, heading towards one of the tents, startling him and everyone around him.

"– come here, I said! –" Growled Daemon, wanting to lunge at her and take her home by force, but Robb blocked his way again.

"– enough – one more step and I'll really call the police –" He threatened, her step-father's gaze shifting to his face after a moment.

He turned away, angry and pale, his hands clenched into fists as he got into his car and drove off with a loud screech.

Feeling his heart pounding like mad and not wanting to be left alone with Robb, he moved after her, adrenaline pulsing hard through his veins.

She had sacrificed herself for him.

Her family, her home.

Just for him.

When he stepped inside he wanted to embrace her, but she shook her head.

"Sit down. I'll get you some ice. Your cheek is all swollen." She said calmly, taking a few cubes out of the fridge and it was only then that he saw how much her hands were trembling.

"– baby – come here –" He whispered, gently placing his hand on the back of her head, and although she resisted for a moment, she finally allowed him to put his arms around her and cuddle her into him.

Her body was shaking.

"– I know, baby – it was very scary – I'm here –" He hummed tenderly, stroking her hair and back, his face pressed against the hollow of her neck.

"– I don't think I have anywhere to go back to –" She mumbled out with difficulty, heartbroken, and burst out into a quiet, exasperated cry.

He swallowed hard, hugging her tighter to him, coming up with an idea he knew their family would definitely not like.

"– you will live with me –"

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sheisjoeschateau · 10 months ago

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts. Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts. Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying. ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair. You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze. Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other.

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy. Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway. It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught.

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers. "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously. Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night. Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy. Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug.

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures.

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut

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ckret2 · 3 months ago

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bouncing off that anon's ask, who would you ship Bill with *outside* of Gravity Falls? Literally any media go ham with it

Invader Zim for exactly one reason: their voices would be sooo annoying together. Imagine it. Imagine the dirty talk. Absolutely atrocious.

This isn't a ship but I think he should hang out with Team Rocket. I mean I guess it could be a ship if you wanna find a way to fit him into the polycule. They've got plenty they can relate to each other on: complicated relationships with parents, being special in your species in a way that makes you a freak/outcast, seeking family via criminal gang, trying to accomplish ONE evil task for like a billion years and somehow no matter how many people you try to manipulate or how clever your cover stories and creative your plans you just canNOT do it...

But mainly I want him to give them terrible advice and horrible help on their criminal ambitions while trying to get them to build him a portal. They waste 50 episodes on 50 different portal-building schemes while Bill gets progressively more irate, and in turn they get equally furious at this annoying talking Ghost-type they can't touch or make go away. Poké balls work on him but he immediately pops back out even madder, which does nothing to help him persuade them that he's not a Pokémon.

Anyway within a month they'd all die for each other. In a very emotional moment when he thinks they're about to be killed and there's nothing he can do about it, he'd tell them they would have made fine Henchmaniacs; and then when they inevitably survive he immediately takes it back.

I think Bill and Unicron would hook up and I think Unicron would make Bill worse. I think he's one of the only beings in existence that could make Bill worse. Bill's got a self-destructive streak a mile wide and Unicron would exacerbate it. They'd break up cordially and then slowly grow to loathe each other more and more in retrospect. Bill would still booty call Unicron when drunk and Unicron would accept.

this isn't necessarily a ship but imagine if bill and getaway teamed up

The Princess in Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer. Bill would promise her a diamond the size of a star and she would build him a portal in less than a week. Bill would compliment her interior decor sensibilities and she might actually compliment his appearance because he's very bright, and that would be enough for them to decide they're besties. They'd get champagne, trash talk their enemies, and bully the plebs like a couple of high school mean girls. They'd make out while completely wasted and deny it when they're sober. Each of them privately thinks the other one is their pet.

Grendel from Grendel. Bill would initially hook up with him expecting him to be the monster equivalent of a party frat boy and then they'd talk philosophy in a dark cave for 18 hours straight and mutually feel like they're not alone for the first time they can remember. They'd make each other worse and then fix each other and then Grendel would die in battle and Bill would get worse again.

I think he could have something with Frankenstein's monster, too—original novel version, not movie version. Similar reasons to Grendel: strong sense of alienation from parents and of isolation from everyone else in the world; feeling of having been created as something totally singular, feeling of having a perspective no one else shares; self-identification as the monster in the narrative of their own life... Plus with the monster Bill's also got "life inevitably culminates in killing my own dad." Bill met him because he was actually trying to get Frank to build him a portal—he's like the first scientist trying to do major projects using electricity—but then ended up more fascinated by the science project than the scientist.

#absoluteminimum #ask #bill cipher

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shinhoebakuhoekitten · 1 year ago

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*Repost from my old blog*

You wear a slutty version of their hero costume: Shinso Smut

Mina, Jirou, Momo, Uraraka and yourself ran into the local Halloween store, excitement building in your chest as you looked around at all of the costumes and decor. It was no secret that Halloween was your favorite holiday and you were looking forward to this shop opening for months, especially when all of the girls and yourself decided to do a group costume for your Momos Halloween bash.

It was structured like a house party like you guys would have had in your college days, but instead of it being filled with everyone it was just a small crowd. This allowed you all to just have fun, eat some candy and drink your usual troubles away.

“What are we going to be?” Mina squealed excitedly, looking at the huge store with walls and walls of stuff ranging from scary to the type of slutty that you were basically walking around in pasties and a thong and everything in between.

“What about a gang of American classic horror films?” Jirou questioned as you all passed the section with the Freddie’s, Michael Myers, Chucky and all of the horror classics.

“It’s kind of basic and overdone, right?” You said knowing you would see a whole gang of that costume running around. Be it the original or the slutty girl version.

“I guess.” Jirou sighed, knowing she was yet again going to have to wear something far too girly for her liking.

A section caught your eye making you grin like a mad man as you ran to it, the other girls seeing where you ran to and as soon as they eyes the collection they couldn’t help but laugh.

“No way, guess they all got popular enough to have costumes for.” Momo said with amusement lacing her voice.

Quite a few of your former UA classmates had made it big enough to have a section of the Pro Hero Costumes. You glanced around, seeing an accurate version and slutty version of all of your pro friends including, Deku, Dynamite, Red Riot, ChargeBolt, Shoto, and even Mindjack had one this year, finally breaking the top 15 due to him being a mainly underground hero.

“Okay, but this would be hilarious if we dressed up as the girl version of them.” You said with excitement, quickly grabbing Shinso’s version in your size as you looked to the other girls, hoping they would be on board.

“I’m down!” Mina squealed as she grabbed a Red Riot costume.

“Sure.” Jirou said with a shrug as she grabbed a Charbolt.

Momo and Uraraka agreed as well, Momo grabbing a Shoto version and Uraraka grabbing a Deku.

“Is Bakugo going to have his feelings hurt that no one chose him?” You joked as you all waited in line to be rung out.

The girls giggled, a few saying “probably.”

***Night of the party.***

You stared at yourself in the mirror, fluffing up your hair and twirling as you admired the costume.

It was a pretty basic costume, a lot like Shinso’s actual hero costume. It was a short frilly dress that barely extended past your ass, making you a bit self conscious but you had to get over that. After all, you were the one who pushed this group costume.

The dress was midnight black dusted in a fine purple glitter all over with both sides ordained in a raisin purple color mesh detail that exposed everything, including a tasteful amount of side boob (about the only tasteful thing about this dress) and ran until it met the hem of the frilly skirt. A more daring person may try to wear it without underwear since they would be seen but you instead found a garter set in a purple that matched the mesh detail as best as you could. You hoped it didn’t contrast too much since you did not want it to be obvious that anyone who looked at you would be looking at your panties.

You fixed the actual garter that was just above the top of your panties and clipped them to the lace tips that adorned your purple stockings to make sure that they stayed in place.

After clipping those into place you pushed up the dress around your chest a bit, moving each breast as you made them appear perkier and allowed them to pop as much out of the v neck of the dress as you dared, afraid anymore and they would literally pop out.

You had forgone the matching bra that came with the lingerie set and instead had used tape to help them stay up and you had to admit it looked like you had a push up bra on.

Fluffing the small petticoat that was built into the dress, also midnight black with the ends being that same raisin mesh. You were amazed that the petticoat worked so well since it was just stitched into the front and back to allow the sides to be fully see through with the mesh.

The outfit did not come with anything to resemble his capture weapon, probably because it would have ruined the cleavage aspect of the outfit but it did come with a flimsy mask that was supposed to replicate his voice modular mask, you tucked that into your purse to put on later.

Looking back at the mirror you admired your makeup and made sure you didn’t need to fix it. You had decided on a basic face with a sharp black wing liner and iridescent purple highlighter. The boldest aspect of your makeup look was the black lipstick that you put under a black gloss, finding it fitting.

Your hair was straightened with black and lavender clip in streaks running through it, kind of reminding you of the early 2000s punk teenagers.

As you noticed the time, muttering a “shit” because you knew you were going to get a stern talking to from Momo for being late to the “pre-party” as she liked to call it, you slipped on your black heels and secured them around your ankle before running out the door with your purse in hand.

You got to Momos parents mansion only a few minutes late, which you found to be impressive as you strode up the master staircase leading to the second floor and her massive room.

“You’re late, YN.” Momo scolded as soon as you entered.

“Lost track of time!” You apologized as you sat down on her bed, watching all of the other girls put last minute touches on their costumes.

You couldn’t help but begin to feel nervous as you looked at everyone, not only did they look beyond incredible but they all had a reason, more or less, to be dressed as the pro hero they chose.

Uraraka was engaged to Deku. Momo and Shoto had dated at one point before figuring out they were better as friends. Jirou was dating Denki and while Mina and Kiri weren’t dating, they were constantly fucking so they might as well have been.

You were just friends with Shinso, it was hard to know what he was thinking sometimes. While he was better about socializing then he was your guys first year of UA, he was still stoic and sometimes reserved, especially when the whole group hung out.

“You’re quite YN, you okay?” Jirou asked, bringing you out of your head.

“Oh yeah! Um, and this is stupid since it was my idea but I’m starting to get worried about my costume. Im just hoping that Shinso doesn’t think it’s weird since most of you are dressed up as either a good friend or significant other. Ya know?”

“Or does this have to do with your massive crush on him?” Mina teased as your cheeks flushed.

“That was like a million years ago, I’m over it.” You muttered quickly.

“But to answer your worries, I don’t think he will find it weird or anything. You two are close enough friends for it not to be.” Momo reassured you with a smile as she zipped up her thigh high white boots.

You smiled back at her before standing from the bed. “Alright, let’s get this pre-party started” you yelled, grabbing a glass of wine from the table that was next to the bed that was filled with enough glasses for everyone.

Shinso’s POV:

Shinso entered the party with Denki, quickly finding Deku, Todoroki, Bakugo, Kirishima, and Sero in the corner, red cups already in hand.

Shinso didn’t have much time for a costume this year, throwing together the idea literally this morning. Luckily Eri, a teenager, was great with makeup and could draw a very detailed skeleton face on his face and he just threw that with a tight black long sleeve shirt and ripped black skinny jeans

The party had not quite started but would be soon and he knew they all had to be there for Momo and her girls entrance or else Momo would kill them.

“Any idea what the girls theme is this year for costumes?” Kirishima asked Deku and Denki knowing they had the best chance of squeezing it out of the girls. The girls always wore a group costume and every year it was a big secret until the party.

“Nah, and the girls with boyfriends had to keep it at Momos house so I couldn’t sneak a peak like last year. Guess they learned.” Kaminari said with a grin as he recalled last year.

“Shame.” Kirishima said as he looked to Shinso “I bet Shin is hoping for as sexy as possible from YN.” Kiri grinned at the silent hero, making him groan and blush a little.

“Please, we all want them as sexy as possible. It’s the only time of the year that we can ogle without getting a face full of their quirks.” Bakugo said with a smirk.

He wasn’t wrong, they all knew they had pretty hot friends, which is why so many of them dated each other.

“Ahem.” A voice echoed from upstairs, causing everyone to look up as the girls began to descend the stairs.

Shinso’s eyes raked over all of his former UA and now pro hero friends as they walked down the grand staircase in Momos house. Momo was leading the pack, her face eerily neutral just like Shoto.

“Holy shit, their us!” Denki yelled.

Shinso got a kick out of all of them, a smirk on his face as his eyes roamed the entire line up and he finally found you, last in the line up. As soon as he recognized it was him that you were dressed up as his mind went blank, as if his quirk was used on him.

That didn’t stop him from taking you in, from the way your chest heaved with each breath you took and the way the chub of your thigh spilled out of the top of your stockings. Maybe if he played his cards right he would be able to mark up those luscious thighs.

Your POV:

You followed the group as they led the charge to the pro heroes, smirks on all of there faces as they saw you guys.

“Oi, where the fuck is my costume?” Bakugo said.

“Sorry, you must not be popular enough to have one yet.” You countered back with a grin, making the explosive boy ‘tsk’ as he walked into the kitchen to grab a beer.

All of the other girls were being looked at by the person they dressed up as, more touchy touchy then others. You realized you had to face Shinso sooner or later so you moved closer to him, a blush dancing on your face as you did so.

“Well who do we have here?” Shinso asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked you up and down slowly, bitting his lower lip as he did so.

You twirled around slowly, not to lift your skirt higher then it already was as Shinso’s breath hitched at the peak of your ass he got from below your purple cheeky panties as you did so.

“Just some underground hero, not sure if you’ve heard of him.” You said with a giggle as you lowered the mask that replicated his voice modular to wear it like a necklace.

“I mean, can’t be a nobody if you wore his costume.” Shinso spoke.

“He is very special.” You flirted back, feeling a bit more bold as the wine you had earlier ran through your body.

Shinso’s eye brows shot up his forehead as another smirk landed on his lips. You just giggled as Mina took you by your hands and dragged you to the middle of the makeshift dance floor as her favorite song came on.

“Look, if you don’t fuck her tonight, I will.” Bakugo said as he rejoined the remaining group, making Shinso sputter on the alcohol he had just chugged. Shinso followed Bakugos eye sight to see Mina grinding on you as you laughed and danced along.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Shinso growled lowely.

“Then make a move dumbass before she’s taken.” Bakugo walked away leaving Shinso alone with his thoughts.

Shinso had watched you dance with all of the girls, you looked happier then he could ever remember. After a bit of liquid courage he found himself standing behind you, softly grabbing your hips as he brought you closer to his chest and hips.

The sudden movement startled you, but as soon as you heard Shinso whisper “it’s okay, Kitten, it’s just me.” In your ear you relaxed against him, feeling his strong arms encompass you as he slid his large hands up your hips, making your cunt clench as the intimate feeling.

Shinso remained quite as you allowed your body to mold into him as he kept running his hands up and down your sides, teasing the hem of your dress with the tips of his long fingers and feeling your thighs below it. Your breath hitched as he made his way higher and higher with each pass, slowly teasing you.

“I hope I’m not being to bold by saying you look absolutely ravishing kitten.” Shinso whispered into the crook of your neck as he began to tease the very top of your upper thigh, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

“Th-thank you.” You groaned out as he took his hands away from below your dress, and placing them again on the top of your hips.

You could feel his smirk against your lips as he whispered “What? Does this pretty girl want my hands somewhere else?”

Your eyes shut as a soft moan slipped through your patted lips. Shinso’s teasing, and deep voice, was going straight to your cunt and you were not sure how much more teasing you could handle, even though you know he had just begun.

“There’s a bedroom right across from the bathroom on the first floor, wanna finish this game there?” You murmured against the side of his face as he peppered your neck with a few quick kisses.

“Lead the way.” Shinso said as you grabbed his hand and led him through the people dancing. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you two as found the hall way that led to the room.

“Fucking finally!” Jirou yelled as Shinso closed the door once he entered.

You didn’t even have a chance to think before you were being pushed against the door, Shinso attacking your neck as his hands found themselves below your dress, pushing it up over your hips instantly as he groped your skin on the way up, desperate to feel every inch of you.

“Fuck kitten, you don’t understand what you have been doing to me tonight. I was ready to take you on that dance floor if you didn’t lead me here.” Shinso moaned into your neck before leaving his first mark of the night, leaving black and white face paint in his wake.

One of yours hands ran through his indigo hair, scratching at the base of his skull as the other hand dug into his shoulder, feeling the years of muscles that hero work and training had given him.

Shinso spun you around and walked you to the bed, kissing you deeply as his hands found your ass, grabbing both of your cheeks as he squeezed, a sound of pleasure ripping from both of your throats.

As you felt the edge of the bed on the back of your knees, Shinso gently pushed you down until you were sitting on the bed. You looked up at him, your eyes shinning with excitement as he looked into your doe eyes, making him groan while he fell to his knees.

“I need to taste you. May I?” He pleaded, his amethyst eyes darker then they usually do as he played with the snap at the end of your garter and top of your thigh highs.

You nodded your head in agreement but made no effort to open your thighs. Shinso noticed your hesitancy and cupped your cheeks into his hands.

“Hey, we can stop whenever you want to, just because we do one thing doesn’t mean we have to have sex. Hell, I’ve waited years just for this, I can wait for as long as you need.” He whispered.

You felt your chest swell with emotions as you smiled as him, allowing him to part your legs. Shinso quickly darted underneath your dress, mouthing at your panties as he moaned from the small amount of juices that had collected on them.

“You taste amazing.” He huskily said as he pulled your thighs apart even more, quickly pulling your dress until it bunched at your hips. He moved your panties to the side as he stuck two fingers into you, opening you up as he stared at your pretty pink pussy.

He blew a bit into you, making you shiver from desire before he dove in and ate you out like a starved man.

A surprised moan ripped itself from your lungs as your hands went to his hair, tugging on the soft locks.

Shinso lapped at your clit, making you tighten around his head as he continue his assault on you.

He removed his mouth, quickly using his hands to rip the panties apart to give him better access “sorry Darling, I’ll buy you a new pair” he said quickly before sucking on your clit and scissoring two fingers into you.

Your back hit the mattress as you arched your back from the unexpected extra pleasure. Your orgasm was fast approaching, the band in your tummy feeling like it was going to snap at any second. As you neared your high, Shinso stopped all movements.

You whined as you looked down at him, he smirked as he wiped his mouth, completely wiping away any remaining makeup that was on or near his lips.

“I want your first orgasm with me to be on my cock.” Shinso explained as quickly unbuttoned his skinny jeans, shucking them off with his tight black boxerbrief. After that he took his shirt off at the back of his neck and tossed it away from you two.

You couldn’t help but stare at his cock, it wasn’t much above average in height but the girth looked to be as big as your wrist, making you panic a bit at his size.

“Like what you see.” Shinso said with a cocky smirk as he went back down on his knees, kissing up your right leg from the calf up, once he reached your cunt he kissed it quickly before doing the same treatment up your left leg.

You tried to move your thighs, causing any kind of friction which made Shinso laugh darkly.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl, you’ll get your orgasm. Just need to make sure your ready for me.”

You two backed onto the bed, your head almost hitting the headboard as he sucked a mark into the base of your throat, two fingers circling your clit to make sure you were wet enough as he moved your dress as high up as it would go.

“Would it be crazy if you kept the costume on? Call it narcissistic but it’s really hot to see you in my hero costume.” Shinso whispered in your ear as you sucked in a breath as a pang of pleasure shot through you.

“Yes” You moaned out, not able to say much else.

Shinso grinned as he got on his knees, grabbing you just below your knees and pulling you closer to him as he began to line his cock with your cunt.

“Are you sure?” Shinso whispered, needing your permission again before proceeding.

“I swear to god Shinso, if you don’t fuck me I’ll telling our friend group you have a micropenis.” You grunted out, feeling so incredibly horny.

Shinso sheathed himself into you without a second though, making you moan out in ecstasy.

“Now kitten, we both know that’s not true.” Shinso whispered in your ear before he pulled your legs above his shoulders and started a brutal pace.

He gave you no time to adjust but you didn’t need it with how wet you were. He made you mewl as he hit the right spot, and noticing he did so he continued his assault on that spot making you feel your orgasm rise quickly.

“Fuck, Hitoshi.” You yelled as your head tilted back.

“Yeah, you like that? My slutty kitty.” Shinso moaned out as he felt you start to clench around him.

Shinso leaned a bit into you, making your legs go up further as he began an even more brutal pace making you moan out loud as your orgasm washed over you.

Shinso wasn’t far behind you, pulling out as he came all over your exposed chest.

You were shocked when he did that but couldn’t help but find it hot. Shinso realized that you also liked it and he groaned “Yeah, does my kitten like when I mark her as mine.” He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

You hid your face as you flushed all over but nodded your head.

Shinso smirked as he left the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom that was attached, cleaning you up first

After you two were cleaned and Shinso had put back on his clothes he reached for you and pulled you onto his chest, kissing your forehead.

You weren’t sure what the next step of your guys relationship would be, or hell if anything would even change but you were glad you had decided to do the group costume.

#mha #my hero acedamia #Shinso smut #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou smut #Halloween shinso #Halloween mha #slutty costume #bnha #bnha smut #bnha shinso hitoshi

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tropes-and-tales · 2 months ago

Text

With Teeth

(Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

CW: Talk of drug use; vaguely smuttish (kissing, groping, biting), but nothing explicit. 18+ only just to be safe.

Word Count: 3062

AN: This was originally requested from a prompt list ("i won’t bite. unless you’re into that sort of thing") by @outlawedmando!

Major Crimes isn’t the only division of the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department to host illicit parties. Many of the divisions have their own deals with their own vibes that fit the unique character of the division in question.

Major Crimes, lorded over by Big Nick, is almost a cliché with the booze, women, and drugs.

The Gang Squad is led by a man much like Big Nick, so it’s no surprise that they do it up similarly, only bigger, with more women and harder drugs.

Cold Case Division’s modus operandi is to go out to the desert with big guns and lots of beer and blow shit up.

No one really knows what Parking Enforcement and Services does, but there are jokes about it. Some say lean into the relative lameness, say they unwind with a knitting circle, or scrapbooking evenings when they listen to New Age music. Others say they go fully feral, that they have a fight club in an abandoned warehouse where they beat each to near-death.

In terms of the group with the panache, though, the honor belongs to the Fugitive Apprehension Team. Maybe it’s the nature of their role—always hunting, always on edge and in the front lines of dangerous work. Something makes their unwinding efforts an ultra-chill affair, a complete decompression and sloughing-off of the stress.

The Fugitive Squad is a tight-knit group—arguably tighter than Major Crimes, though the two often overlap. Major Crimes cracks a case, needs someone hauled in? Big Nick drops a call, and it’s like setting a pack of well-trained wolves on the busy streets and dusty roads of Los Angeles County.

On big cases, sometimes the Fugitive Squad invites Major Crimes to their parties and vice versa. Usually Major Crimes attends the Fugitive events, since the Fugitive folks don’t quite care for Big Nick groping hired girls while the fug of cigar smoke hangs over some hotel room.

-----

What does a Fugitive party entail?

Borracho is never clear on who exactly plans them. If it’s a situation where the team takes turns, or if there’s one mastermind behind the events. It’s always at the same place: a low, sprawling mid-century place in the Pacific Palisades, owned by one of the members of the squad who came from old family money.

There’s a pool and beyond it, the ocean. There’s low, cool lighting that swaths everyone in blue shadows. There’s ambient music—a low, steady pulsing beat that seems to sync everyone’s heart rate to the same rhythm. The food is always elegant, an elaborate sushi bar one night, tapas another time. There’s alcohol, plenty of it, but no one ever seems to overdo it to a sloppy degree because everything is so damned chill.

Drugs? Big Nick is partial to coke and often brings enough to the Major Crimes events to get loaded, but the Fugitive parties are purely for the psychedelic shit. Weed, obviously. Mushrooms. Molly. Nothing that will get people worked up: only stuff to calm and maybe take the user to another galaxy while they celebrate another night on the right side of the dirt.

Honestly, Borracho kinda prefers the thing the Fugitive folks have going on. A big joint case has just wrapped up, and he finds himself with an invite along with the rest of his team.

Which means he gets to see you in a more social setting.

At work, you’re all business. Mostly silent, the way Borracho is mostly silent. You let your commanding officer do all the talking the way Big Nick does all the talking, and like Borracho, you stand nearby and look and listen.

Early on, you caught Borracho studying you. It had made your mouth twist in a small smile, and you had winked at him, but it was a lone instance of your personality shining through during work hours.

Off-duty? Fuck, you drive him insane.

It’s not entirely the sort of insanity that comes from flirting and sexual tension. At these parties, you’re someone else completely. Totally at ease, which means you feel comfortable enough to be yourself, to untether your mouth from your brain, and Borracho never knows what the fuck you’ll say to him. If you’ll drop something banal about the Dodgers’ pitching depth, or if you’ll stare at him, unblinking, and ask if he thinks life as he knows it is just a simulation. Because both has happened in the past at these parties, and both were before you even touched a drug.

Tonight, though, he’s late to show up. The party is in full swing, the low bass audible from the street when he parks his truck. He makes his way inside, sees the crush of people dancing in the living room, sees the cluster of people in the dining room where the food and drinks and drugs are laid out. Borracho sees Henderson, tips a nod in his direction, but he keeps walking through the place.

He always seeks you out at these things. He always swears he’ll play it cool, but his resolve always melts away the moment he hits the door.

Borracho finds you in the den—a separate space that usually has a movie projected on the far wall while people sprawl out and trip and sometimes get cozy in the dark room while some old black-and-white movie plays out in the background.

Tonight, you’re settled on the deep leather couch at one end. Another guy is at the other end of the couch, his wide eyes fixed on where “The Third Man” plays against the far wall. There’s a couple curled up on a separate easy chair, murmuring together, making out, and it charges the room with an undercurrent of sexual energy that feels…promising.

It takes you a beat to notice him leaning in the doorway. You’re watching the movie too, and it’s only in a scene break that you glance over and see him.

“Borracho!” you call out. “Finally made it!”

“Never like to arrive too early.”

“Smart, smart. Gives you an air of mystery.”

You smile and continue. “C’mon in. Take a seat, settle in. We’re following Joseph Cotton here around post-war Vienna.” You lift a hand and gesture at the wall.

Borracho tilts his head at the couch where you sit. “No room.”

You turn and look at the guy on the other end of the couch. When Borracho looks closer, he sees it’s one of your coworkers in the Fugitive Squad. He watches as you reach over and swat at him, tell him to move over and make some room. When he does, you turn back to Borracho and pat the middle cushion invitingly.

“C’mon, handsome. I won’t bite.” He cocks an eyebrow at the handsome moniker, but you add, “unless you’re into that sort of thing,” and he realizes that you’re throwing him for a loop like you always do—only this time, you’re flirting with him, not interrogating him about what reality really is.

You drive him fucking insane.

It’s not entirely the sort of insanity that comes from flirting and sexual tension, but it’s a big part of it. At work, it’s the way you move around, the economical way you move when you’re on the hunt. If the Fugitive Squad is a pack of wolves, you’re their panther: more of a big cat padding on quiet paws, ears pitched forward, slinking after prey.

At parties, it’s this: always keeping him guessing, keeping him back on his heels, making him feel like a teenaged boy again straining for just a moment with you. The anticipation of it, the frustration when it never materializes, the eagerness for the next invite to the next party.

He makes his way into the room and sits down beside you. You reach over to the little table beside the couch and snag a small tray with party favors on it. You present it to Borracho with a flourish.

“Want to partake?” you ask.

He squints at the offerings. There’s edibles, a cigarette case of pre-rolls, and some unidentified pills with tiny smiley faces printed on them. He points at them.

“What are those?”

“Designer shit,” you reply. “Boss has a buddy in Twentynine Palms who makes these small-batch, artisanal drugs.”

Borracho snorts. “Hipster shit.”

“Like a macaron shop in a swiftly gentrifying neighborhood.”

“What’s it do?”

You click your tongue as you think. “Little bit of everything, I’d say. Relaxes you like pot, but kinda gives you the euphoria of molly. Also offers the barest bit of trippiness, in case you want to peer behind the veil between realities.”

“Haven’t peered behind the veil lately.”

“Treat yourself, Borracho.”

He plucks one pill from the tray and considers it. “You take one already?”

You answer by taking another pill from the tray, then setting the tray aside. You turn to face him, stick out your tongue, and lay the pill on it. The whole time you hold his gaze, and he holds yours.

A second later, you close your mouth and swallow. “Yes,” you tell him with a smile. “I’ve taken one already.”

You drive him fucking insane. How could he not want you?

-----

Whatever this designer pill is, it’s the sort to creep up slowly on a user.

Borracho relaxes by degrees. Feels himself melting into the couch by degrees, like his bones are softening, his muscles are lengthening. The light from the projector takes on an ethereal glow, and at some point, he blinks and realizes, shit, I’m feeling it now.

He turns his head, heavy against the back of the couch, and sees you. You sense his gaze on you, and you turn your head to face him too.

“How you feeling?” you ask.

“Good.” It comes out rough, a dry-throated croak, and you laugh at him, which makes him smile.

“Good.”

“You?”

“Good.”

“That’s…good,” he replies, and it makes you laugh again, makes him laugh too, and he realizes how much he’s feeling it after all. How effortless it feels to sit beside you right now. He glances up at the movie and sees that it has changed entirely – to some grimy-looking ‘80’s crime drama with a synth soundtrack. The couple who had been making out in the chair have disappeared, and when Borracho turns his head to the other side of him, he sees the third wheel has left too.

How long have the two of you been alone?

Time seems to stretch and distort. He watches the movie, a car chase scene, then blinks and it’s rolling credits. Another blink and it’s another movie, a low budget sci-fi with lots of lasers. He sits on the couch, his legs sprawled wide, and his knee presses against yours.

Blink, and his leg nearest you now is pressed against yours, thigh to thigh, and the heat he can feel coming from you seems to have a shimmering quality when he looks down at where you touch.

Blink, and he’s watching the movie again. There’s an alien in bad makeup, more lasers, a jazzy stream of music that seems to come from somewhere else.

“I am,” he blurts out. He rolls his head again, peers over at you, waits for you to turn and look at him. When you do, you look confused.

“Huh?”

“I am. From earlier.”

You snort, then laugh. “I am so lost right now.”

Blink, and he feels the smile that creeps across his face. “What you said earlier. You asked if I was into it. I am.”

“Into what?”

Blink, and he swallows. Feels the heat of your thigh pressed against his. “You said you wouldn’t bite—”

“—Unless you’re into that.” You pick up the thread and remember. The smile you offer has a feral edge, unless he’s imagining it, which is very likely. Maybe none of this is happening at all: maybe he’s passed out and drooling on the couch while you’re sober and elsewhere, cornering people and trying to discuss string theory.

“You like biting, Borracho?” you ask, and your voice is low, a near whisper. Like you’re sharing secrets, so he whispers back.

“Depends on who’s doing the biting.”

“Hmmm.”

Blink, and you’re moving towards him, that same cat-like fluidity you have at work. He never takes his eyes from you, never blinks, and you don’t either. He watches as you straddle him, settle on his lap. His hands find your waist, then slides them down and back to grasp your ass. Your hands reach up and cup his face, low on his jaw, and you smile down at him.

You’re backlit by the projected wall of the movie. He opens his mouth to say something nice, to tell you how fucking gorgeous you look, but you lean down as you tilt his head and…he thinks you’re going to kiss him, but you brush your lips over his cheekbone until your mouth is right by his ear.

“You want me to bite you?” you whisper, and your warm breath fanning over him makes him shudder, a delicious frisson of trembling through the core of him. He wants to say something slick in return, but he only manages to grunt an affirmative.

Blink, and you lean against him. He can feel your tits pressed against him, can feel the flex of your body as you bend your head. Another blink, and he feels your mouth on him, your soft lips, then your tongue as you taste him—the spot right where his neck meets his shoulder.

Then he feels your teeth on him, a slow and steady sink of your teeth in his skin, and you take him right to the edge of pain and maybe a half step beyond, but no further. His hands grip your ass harder, spasm against the soft curve of you, and he jerks you closer to him because he’s growing hard underneath you—faster than he usually does, and maybe part of it is the drug, but part of it is definitely you.

Your mouth on him, the heady weight of you on him, your hands gripping his face and holding him steady.

You draw your teeth out of him, and you soothe where you’ve marked him with your tongue. You run the tip of your tongue over his dimpled flesh, then kiss him there.

Blink, though, and Borracho finds you climbing off him, and he pushes a disappointed exhale through his pursed lips. You didn’t even kiss his mouth, and he turns to where you settle back on the couch. You catch his pout and offer him an apologetic smile.

“You know we can’t do more,” you offer as explanation.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his jeans too tight. “I think we could.”

Another smile that turns into a laugh. You reach out a hand and lay it on his arm, jostle him playfully. “We could. But we shouldn’t. We’re both pretty fucked up.”

“You’ve never fooled around while stoned?” His voice has a whining edge to it that he doesn’t like, but you keep your hand on him, keep grinning at him, and that’s something, he guesses.

“I have,” you admit. “But within boundaries established whilst sober. I might get sloppy at these parties, but I keep my sloppiness contained within certain limits.”

He can’t help but smile back at you despite the twinge of disappointment in his gut. “You need a lesson from Big Nick.”

At that, you release his arm, fling your head back against the couch and blow out a heavy breath. “God, that asshole.”

“He kinda is, right?”

“He has a sort of all-encompassing sloppiness that I can’t support, Borracho.” You turn your head, smile again. “Tempting though you may be.”

He sighs but smiles back at you. “You know you drive me fucking crazy, right?”

“Yeah?” Your eyes widen—you look genuinely surprised.

“Yeah.”

“You gonna be shitty with me now?”

He shakes his head. He’s never been the type of man to get a bug up his ass about a woman not putting out. He’s never gotten angry at dates that led to nothing, or dates who changed their mind. That’s life, and he’s always thought of men who got shitty about women not putting out as childish assholes.

Besides, he’s gotten plenty. He knows what it feels like to have you on top of him, how it feels to have your tits pressed against him. He knows what your mouth feels like and will bear the mark of your teeth for at least a week until the bruise fades. He knows that your ass feels amazing under his big hands.

“If you ever want to establish boundaries while sober…” he starts, then trails off, and it makes you laugh again. It’s probably the drugs, but he’s made you smile more, laugh more in this one evening than he has in all the time since he’s known you.

“Don’t open that door if you don’t want me walking through it, Borracho,” you warn.

Maybe he’s sobering up a bit, because he manages to both think of a slick line and deliver it.

“You’re Fugitive Squad, baby. You can kick down my door anytime you want.”

It’s the coup de grace of the moment: you throw your head back and laugh, deep belly laughs that come from deep inside you. You throw out a hand and brace yourself against his shoulder, and he chuckles along with you.

“Duly noted,” you finally manage to say once you calm. “I’ll hit you up sometime.”

Borracho nods. “You should.”

Then, because he’s still loose from the drugs, still feeling pretty damned good, still wanting to show that he’s not going to be shitty about you clambering off him, he lifts his arm in invitation.

“C’mon,” he says. “At least curl up with me here. I need someone to ground me so I don’t drift off to Saturn.”

You don’t even hesitate to move closer and tuck yourself under his arm and against his side, and that’s how you both fall asleep within the hour, and how you both wake up just before dawn—both dry-mouthed and cranky, but not so cranky that you don’t sheepishly exchange numbers.

And Borracho might think you’re just being nice, but you call him that evening, stone-sober, eager to kick in his door at his earliest convenience.

#kinktober2024 #clear the inbox 2024 #tropes #benny magalon #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon imagine #benny magalon x reader #borracho magalon imagine #borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon #den of thieves

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jerzwriter · 7 months ago

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The Big ONE

Happy Birthday to little Samantha, who turned one on April 20th!

I asked @/artbyainna (IG) to help create artwork to commemorate the special occasion, and I'm simply squealing at the results! While Tobias and Casey are captivated with their little angel, Pietro is all too happy to jump in and get a bit of that cake he's been eyeing all afternoon! I'm just blown away by this!

I wrote a fic highlighting a few moments during Sammy's big day below. I hope you enjoy the sugary sweetness as much as I do!

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Characters: Vivian Carrick (F!OC), Jordan Carrick (M!OC), Rose and David MacTavish (OCs), the OH gang, and of course, Pietro - the original cat. Rating: Teen Words: 1,700 A/N: @choicesaprilchallenge24 / Kitchen Table

Standing at her kitchen sink didn't typically usher in so much joy, but then, today wasn't any ordinary day. Casey's heart was full as she peered out the kitchen window into her backyard. It was tiny by suburban standards, but in Boston, it may as well have been an acre. The storms that had been forecasted earlier in the week held off, and the bright sun and azure blue skies provided the perfect canopy for their guests who came to celebrate.

The telltale rattle of the backdoor handle interrupted the silence, and Casey turned to find her husband coming inside. He looked so gorgeous in the fitted pink shirt he bought just for this occasion that she didn't initially catch his expression. Was it bewilderment? Vexation? She couldn't quite make it out.

He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Sam Adams. Popping the cap off, he leaned against the counter and shook his head.

"I can't believe there's a freaking petting zoo in my yard."

Casey chuckled as she closed the distance between them, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as her arms encircled his waist.

"It’s not like you weren’t warned... albeit inadvertently.”

“Still...” he sighed.

“You know, from what I’ve heard, this place was a perpetual petting zoo in the past. Of course, it wasn’t the G-rated type, but even so... this shouldn't be so foreign to you.”

She closed her eyes and pressed closer against him, relishing the way his chest reverberated against her as he laughed.

“While the stories of my past can be a bit on the wild side, they tend to be overexaggerated, my dear.”

Casey squeezed him tighter. “I can’t believe our baby girl is a year old already.”

“I know,” Tobias replied with amazement. “It all went by in a flash.”

“It did,” Casey agreed. “Although, some of the nights felt like they lasted an eternity. Especially in the beginning. God, sometimes I didn’t think I’d survive.”

“You?” Tobias marveled. “No way! You had the whole motherhood thing down pat from the start. You're a natural, babe.”

“A natural?” She laughed. “Are you kidding me? From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I was a hyperventilating mess!" Her hands rubbed along the silky fabric covering his chest, and her voice filled with emotion. “If not for your bright outlook and constant support, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. You’re my rock, T.”

The tender moment was interrupted when the door handle rattled again, and several of their friends stepped inside.

“Jesus!” Jackie groaned. “Do you two ever stop with that lovey-dovey shit?”

“Aw! Leave them alone!” Sienna smiled. “I think they’re adorable.”

“I might be more accepting of that adorable title if it was any random day,” Bryce interjected. “But what the hell are you doing inside with this kissy face crap when you have a freaking petting zoo and bouncy house in your yard?”

“Yeah,” Tobias chuckled. “Ma didn’t read the memo when we said we wanted a simple party with our friends."

“She also didn’t get that none of our friends have children, and Sammy’s too young for friends of her own... I don’t know that we needed all this.”

“Are you kidding?” Bryce gasped in horror. Vivian is a goddess! I’ve been in the bouncy house for the past hour, and that little wallaby out there is now my best friend. You two really need to come out.”

“Oh, I will so be in the bouncy house before this day is over!” Casey enthused.

“And I’ll be there to gleefully record every second,” Tobias winked. “But we’re going to set up to have the cake in here now.”

A peal of laughter wafted in through the open window, and everyone looked outside to see Sammy flying through the air—her face aglow as she giggled with abandon.

“Give her back to me!” Tobias’s brother, Jordan, insisted as Ethan swung the little one around again.

“Sorry,” Ethan responded. “She’s made her position clear. I’m her favorite uncle. You’ll just have to acclimate to being number two, Jordan.”

“Number two,” Bryce blurted as he was about to stick his hand into the nacho dip. “He’s not number two! And Ethan’s not number one! Sorry guys, I have to get out there and reclaim my ground!”

Jackie heaved out a sigh. “I suppose I should go supervise the children.”

“And I’ll make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone,” Sienna said, quick on her friend's heels.

Tobias slid behind Casey, wrapping his strong arms around her as they watched the joyful scene unfolding outside.

“Oh, no! Our parents are getting in on this now,” Casey observed as Tobias kissed her shoulder. “We better go retrieve Sammy before she's more spoiled than she is already."

"Nah," Tobias declined. "She's in very good hands, and I want just one more moment alone with my beautiful wife."

Casey turned around in Tobias's arms and gently kissed him, but he turned that little kiss into one with decidedly more passion.

"Keep that up, and we'll end up with baby number two," she giggled.

"Damn, she's on to my plan," he winked.

~~~~

A short time later, the circus had moved inside as the guests crowded into the family's living room to open gifts.

“I was told we were coming inside for cake,” Bryce pouted.

Vivian, seated next to him, promptly slapped his knee.

“OW!”

“It’s presents before cake, Lahela. Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t think Sammy would mind either way,” he replied but acquiesced when he saw how happy the little girl was ripping into the gift wrap on her presents.

“Look!” Sienna said, tapping Casey’s Mom, Rose, on the shoulder. “She loves the stuffed pony you got her!”

“She does,” Rose beamed. “Although Grandma Vivian supplied the real pony in the yard!”

“Yeah,” Casey’s father, David, laughed. “We’ll have to up our game next year, hon. Vivian here is stealing our thunder.”

“NO!” Tobias and Casey yelled in unison.

“Don’t worry,” Tobias insisted. “My mother is going to be banished from next year’s celebration! We can have some normalcy.”

“Like hell I will be!” she spat as Jordan roared with laughter.

“Please, you have a better chance of Derek Jeter being elected mayor of Boston than you do of Ma missing any of Sammy’s birthdays.”

“That’s right! This fool made me wait almost four decades to be a grandma, I'm not missing any of it now!"

Tobias wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and squeezed her close. “I know you wouldn’t, Ma. And we wouldn't want you to, but... can we celebrate without so many animals next year?”

“I don’t know,” Vivian smirked. “I think it would be wrong not to include your friends.”

~~~~~

A pile of opened gifts sat stacked neatly in the corner as little Pietro played happily with the bits of colorful gift wrap that remained taped to the boxes. But the cat wasn’t the only one excited; after all, it was finally time for CAKE!

“Casey, you look great!” Jordan stated. “But, Tobias, I need you to move a bit to the right.”

“For God's sake,” Tobias groused. “Can you just take the picture already?"

“Can we start singing?” Vivian asked. "I want to sing to my grandbaby."

“As soon as I get this picture,” Jordan replied. “All right! Casey, Tobias... perfect! Now, everyone, help me get Sammy to look this way.”

Everyone gathered behind Jordan, making faces, clapping their hands, and doing all they could to get the precious little girl to look their way. But Sammy only had eyes for one thing... the fluffy pink birthday cake that was just outside of her reach. That is until her feline best friend hopped on the table, stealing her attention and leaving her squealing with delight.

Casey lifted him, placing him gently back on the floor. “Not on the table, Pietro.”

“Yeah!” Jackie replied smugly. “No cake for you.”

The cat hissed at his nemesis as the clamoring to get Sammy to look at the camera continued.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Tobias bewailed. “Can you just take the picture!”

“I sure can,” Jordan nodded. “On the count of three! One... two... three!”

But just as her uncle snapped the photo, Sammy lurched forward and grabbed a fistful of the cotton candy colored icing, and when Tobias attempted to intervene, he ended up with a tiny fistful of sticky, sugary goodness splattered onto his face. A family photo that would be celebrated for generations to come was born.

Beaming, Tobias lifted Sammy off Casey’s lap as her chubby little hands mashed the icing deeper into her father’s beard.

Laughing, Casey pulled her phone out of her pocket to snap some shots of her own. “Our little girl has you wrapped around her finger, T!”

Tobias reached over and pulled Casey close; the sticky icing became a family affair when he kissed her cheek. “She sure does. Just like her, Momma!”

Amidst all the chaos, Pietro saw an opportunity, and he took it! Leaping onto the table, he stuck his paws into the cake and delighted in his sugary bonanza until Casey spotted him out of the corner of her eye.

“Pietro! No!” she hollered as Jackie, the only one who had seen the cat on the table, broke out laughing.

“You saw him and didn’t rat him out?” Casey teased. "What's happened to you?"

Jackie merely shrugged. “You have to admire him. He wanted something, saw an opening, and took it. I’m not about to turn him in for that.”

"Are you and that cat... bonding?" Casey asked.

"I guess Sammy's birthday is capable of miracles."

~~~~~

Hours later, after the final guest had gone home, Casey and Tobias snuggled together on the couch. Sammy slept in her playpen just feet away while Pierto kept a protective watch over her. Despite being exhausted, the proud parents couldn’t wipe the grins off their faces.

“This was such a great day,” Casey smiled. “I knew it would be, but it exceeded all expectations.”

“It was a really great day,” Tobias agreed. “And I think Ma only violated three town ordinances by insisting a wallaby was included in the petting zoo."

“She didn’t break any ordinances,” Casey laughed, her eyes suddenly going wide. “At least, not any that we know of.”

“Well, if she did, we successfully evaded charges, and that's all I can ask for."

“Mmmm,” Casey hummed, snuggling closer to him. “So, do you still want to add another Carrick to all this craziness?”

Tobias sat up, his interest piqued. “Damn straight, I do. Honestly, I want our girls to be close together. Jordan and I had a big age difference, and I’d like Sammy to grow up with her sister, you know?”

“Tobias,” Casey chuckled. “You know we have no way of knowing if we'd have another girl!”

His eyes lit up, and that little dimple Casey found so irresistible took center stage. “Oh, yes, I do. Now the big question... are you ready to have bambina number two?”

Casey sunk back into the fluffy couch cushions with a smile. “Soon? Maybe we can start trying around the end of summer. You know, it might not happen right away, but if we start then, maybe Sammy can have a little sister... or brother... by the end of next year. What do you say?"

“First, sister,” Tobias grinned. “And it will happen right away. Look at how fast it happened with Sammy.”

“Babe, we weren’t planning on Sammy.”

“Exactly,” Tobias grinned, holding Casey close. "I work that damn well when we weren't even trying... you just wait until we are."

Sammy made a funny little noise, and when Mom and Dad realized she was just having a happy dream, they returned to holding each other close.

"Well, I feel a lot better right now than I did a year ago at this time," Casey stated. "I mean, a day of family and friends is a cakewalk next to labor and delivery."

"Yet, you're willing to do it again," Tobias chuckled.

"Yeah, I think I'll make it through," she smiled. "I love our little family, T."

"So do I," he said with a kiss on her forehead. "And I love you."

~~~~~

That's some serious sweetness here, my friends! I hope you enjoyed it... Pietro sure did!

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesaprilchallenge24 @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #choices fanart #open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart fanart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x f!mc #samantha carrick #open heart choices #choices open heart #choices stories you play #playchoices

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fun-incorrect-quotes · 5 months ago

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Here’s some background:

So in the show, it doesn’t really make much sense how the main gang are the DIRECT descendants of all the fairytale characters, because, y’know, how did they advance in technology THAT FAST? So, my idea is, they are all descendants of the original characters, just, many many years down the line. However, their parents do all share the same names as their fairytale counterparts, for the sake of making sense and not getting jumbled up. So Apple Whites mothers name IS Snow White, but she is not the ORIGINAL Snow White, etc. etc.

Because she was raised by her overbearing mother, Apple is a sort of villain. Think of her as Regina George, but all the “royals” love her because she puts on a show of being kind, not because they fear her. Her wrath is focused on the rebels, trying to keep them in line to follow their destiny. Her clique consists of Briar Beauty (descendant of Sleeping Beauty), Ashlyn Ella (descendant of Cinderella), and Blondilocks (descendant of Goldilocks). Not all of them are villain esque, just Apple and Blondie.

Blondie is sort of like Gretchen from mean girls (“that’s why her hair is so big, it’s full of secrets”). In the show, she likes to report on her mirror cast, I will bring that into the rewrite (sort of), in that she has an anonymous blog, where she spills any secret she can get a hold of.

Briar is similar to how she is in the show. She loves to party, and she’s not sure about following her destiny. The only difference is, she’s a bit more ditzy. But again, she is good.

Ashlynn is also similar to how she is in the show. Kind, compassionate. She is also very intelligent. She is adamant that Briar keep her reservations about following her destiny between them, as she fears Apple will torment her for not wanting to follow her “destiny.” Ashlynn is still in a relationship with Hunter Huntsman (descendant of the huntsman from Snow White) but their relationship is kept even more under wraps, for fear of being ostracized from the royals because of Apple. The only reason she is really friends with Apple is to protect Briar, as they are best friends.

Milton Grimm, the headmaster of EAH, is more ruthless in this version. He and Giles are polar opposites. Milton is THE villain. Pressuring all the students to follow their destinies and striking fear into them if they don’t follow it. He is manipulative and wants Apples family to remain to be at the top of the social hierarchy, as Snow White (Apples mother), still owns many businesses and is very wealthy. She has bribed Milton for many favors in the past. I want to add many other ways to make him an evil tyrant but I can’t think of anything else, ideas would be appreciated!

Giles Grimm, Milton’s brother, is, again, Milton’s polar opposite. Similar to the show, he was trapped under the school by Milton and put under a curse to only speak Riddlish, as to not expose his secrets. His curse will not be broken as easily as it was in the show by the girls gathering pages of a counterspell, but much later it is eventually broken by Maddie and Raven.

Raven is GOOD. After her mother is locked in the mirror prison, she is raised by Cinderella (Ashlynn’s mother, not the original). Cinderella taught her to have courage and be kind (like the quote from the live action Disney film). No one knows Raven was raised by Cinderella, besides Ashlynn, of course, and Maddie since they are best friends. Obviously, Ravens friend group is made up of rebels, as all the royals are turned against her by Apple. Her best friend is obviously Madeline “Maddie” Hatter (descendant of the Mad Hatter), her other friends are Cerise Hood (Daughter of Red Riding hood and (secretly) the Big Bad Wolf), and Cedar Wood (descendant of Pinocchio)

Maddie is basically the same as she is in the show. I love her character so much. There’s nothing to change.

Daring Charming is similar to how he is in the show, except more extreme. Very self-obsessed and wants to keep the order (like Apple). Obviously they are together because they want to follow their destinies. (Sorry to the shippers of Apple and Darling, unfortunately at this point in the rewrite I have no idea how I will incorporate this as Apple is supposed to be obsessed with keeping her and everyone else’s destiny and I want to keep Darling good!)

Dexter Charming is still awkward as ever. He does still love Raven. I want his to eventually be in a relationship with her (in secret of course because of his brother and Apple) I’m not sure how else to develop his character, but I did want to include this

These are the character outlines I have *so far* I might write some scenes that happen throughout if anyone has any requests let me know! 🫶🏻

#ever after high rewrite #ever after high #eah #eah rewrite #apple white #raven queen #madeline hatter #maddie hatter #briar beauty #ashlynn ella #blondie locks #cerise hood #cedar wood #milton grimm #giles grimm #daring charming #dexter charming

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moeitsu · 4 months ago

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 17 - To Watch The Dying of the Day

Summary: Say, isn't it strange? I am still me, and you are still you. In this place. Isn't it strange how people can change? From strangers to friends, friends into lovers. To strangers again.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: Oh gosh, it's been so long! A mixture of burnout and chaos will do that to a girl. But it's here, coming in at a strong 7k words. It's on the shorter side, especially since my previous chapters have been anywhere between 10-13k words. But this chapter is transitioning us back into the main story. So do with that information as you will, its going to be a bumpy ride....

TW: None really, just hella angst.

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

StoryTags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, John?” Abigail’s voice echoed through the camp as the tent flaps were shoved open harshly by the young man, who only ignored her comment. He was making a beeline for the one person he needed to complete his team—the one person he knew would stand by his side to enact revenge on the men who nearly took his brother's life.

Kate was chopping celery and carrots for an afternoon stew when she heard the heavy footsteps of John approaching. His gaze was determined, each step fueled with a fiery purpose. She glanced up to see Abigail standing not far behind him, arms crossed in frustration, throwing her hands in the air as John continued to ignore her protests. Kate already knew what he was going to ask of her.

John had found Colm O’Driscoll’s hideout, and he was ready to take action.

Kate placed the knife down with a sigh. Since their return from Emerald Ranch, things had been relatively calm. At least as calm as life could get when you were running with a bunch of outlaws, hanging onto the threads of some "plan" by a man she barely trusted. When they arrived back from their trip, Sean and the boys had planned a small party for Arthur—a ‘Celebration of Life,’ the ambitious Irishman had called it. Though it was more likely just another excuse to drink beer, dance, and be rowdy.

They used the get-together as an opportunity to tell the others about their relationship. Kate drank and sang with the girls, talking with them into the late hours of the night about her time with Arthur. Their small circle was filled with ‘aww’s’ and teasing glances. Kate felt a weight lifted off her shoulders after telling them, like somehow their relationship was finally real now that the rest of the gang knew—at least the ones most important to her.

Arthur was gradually reintegrated into jobs and missions, starting with small fishing trips and eventually moving on to more lucrative endeavors like robbing stagecoaches. Kate protested at first, trying to convince him there were safer ways to make money, but she knew she couldn't take the thrill of the heist out of the outlaw so easily. Arthur found work where he could, especially when Dutch wasn’t ordering him around. All of Arthur’s worries about being replaced seemed to dissipate in the days after his return. Dutch, ever the charmer, appeared overjoyed that Arthur was making a steady recovery and happy that his son found some happiness in a woman. He couldn't resist leaving Arthur with a gentle reminder that their priority was, and still is, to make enough money to escape. Arthur assured him with a promise: he would see it done.

This morning, Dutch sent Arthur, Sean, and Micah into Rhodes to meet up with Bill. Sheriff Gray wanted to speak with them about some work, and Arthur felt mighty proud to be involved, given his month-long absence. After breakfast, Kate pulled him aside for a few quick good-luck and be-safe kisses. It had become a new habit of theirs, since alone-time was rarely granted. They always made sure to say goodbye when one was leaving for a job, sealed with a kiss and a hug.

Kate looked up at John from under the brim of her hat, wishing in that moment Arthur was there to set him straight. But she knew nothing was going to change the young outlaw’s mind.

“Kate,” John greeted with a nod, his tone indicating he was ready to say more.

Wiping her hands on her raggedy apron, she leaned against the cutting table. “Fine afternoon, ain’t it, John?” she said with a smile, squinting up at the sun.

John wasted no time. “We’re ridin’ out today, to Hanging Dog Ranch. You coming?”

“Is that so?” She sighed. “What for?” Kate’s voice carried a hint of feigned ignorance. She knew why, but she was still trying to find it in herself to say no.

Since their ride back from Emerald Ranch, Kate had wrestled with Arthur’s words. She knew revenge was foolish, but seeing the way it had changed him cut her so deep she feared she would carry that rage with her for a long time. It was the same rage she felt years ago when she lost everything. Back then, her anger often consumed her, but over time she learned how to control it, to use it to protect herself and others. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to keep her word to Arthur, but also to protect him.

“You know why, Kate,” John’s voice grew stern, pulling her from her thoughts. “Colm’s men are up there. This is our chance.”

Kate’s heart clenched. She wanted to protect Arthur, to ensure that what happened to him never happened to anyone again. But she also knew that succumbing to vengeance could destroy her just as easily as it could destroy their enemies.

“John,” she began, her voice wavering slightly, “I promised Arthur I wouldn’t get swept up in this mess.”

John’s expression softened a moment, but his resolve remained firm. “I get it, Kate. But we need you. If we don’t take this chance, we might not get another.”

Kate huffed and lowered her voice so only he could hear, “Does Dutch know about this? Doesn’t he have a plan to get back at Colm?” She tried to make him see reason in her questions.

John only shook his head. “To hell with his plans. The way I see it, Colm doesn’t see us as a threat anymore. He tried to lay a trap and set the law on us. Well, he fucked around and it's about time he found out.”

Kate rolled her eyes at John’s ambitious statement. “John, no. I can’t go through with this and you shouldn't either.” She planned to leave him with that, pulling the apron over her head and starting to walk away.

John grunted and followed behind her, his frustration growing more evident. “C’mon, Kate, quit pussyfootin’ around. We need you, and we’re losing daylight.”

Kate turned and saw behind him as the others began saddling their horses and loading their weapons. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Sadie packing her saddlebags, and her heart began to race as Lenny waited proudly on the back of his stallion, ready to take off at a moment's notice. Charles was there too, making his way over to see what the hold-up was. She was surprised to see this was the group that would be leading the charge. But, after all, these were Arthur’s closest and most trusted comrades.

Consequently, they were also the people Kate cared for deeply and saw as her own family. They were all putting themselves in harm's way for the sake of revenge.

“What would Arthur say about this?” Kate said finally.

Charles had finally caught up to them and heard the last bit of the conversation. “Arthur would say revenge is a fool’s game,” he stated.

“Exactly, thank you Char-”

“But those are his words, not mine,” Charles interrupted.

Kate pinched the bridge of her nose as John continued his persuasion. “Arthur’s the goddamn fool. We need to strike back, now. What if they come after us again? What if this time Colm takes one of the girls, or you?”

Kate felt the weight of John’s words settling heavily on her shoulders. The thought of Colm’s men taking her or any of the other women gnawed at her heart. She couldn’t deny the logic in John’s argument, even if it went against Arthur’s wishes.

Looking past the two men, she saw Lenny waving to her as if simply asking, "What are you waiting for?" John must have told them she would be joining, as Sadie looked over in anticipation, already holding Lorena’s reins, ready to leave as soon as Kate gave the word.

“Charles,” she began, her voice deep with conviction, “you’ve got a level head. This is a bad idea. How could you go through with this?”

Her words came out with a bite, unintended, but they stung nonetheless. Charles had always been a beacon of reason, often the one she or Arthur leaned on in times of need.

Charles' response betrayed no hurt, only his own sense of determination. “These bastards deserve it. Arthur suffered enough.”

Kate found herself seething at his words, anger bubbling up like black coffee neglected over a fire for too long. The gang knew Arthur better than she did, Kate understood that much. But nobody had watched him suffer like she had. Night after endless night, holding his broken body and cradling him as she willed with all her strength that the pain and tortuous nightmares would cease. Her thoughts drifted to the night of their shared intimacy, seeing how Colm had broken him in unimaginable ways.

Nobody understood the extent of his suffering, except for Kate.

“Sadie suffered by them too,” Charles added after a moment.

“We’ve all suffered from the O’Driscolls!” John exclaimed with a defeated sigh. “Choose your battles, Kate. But we’re going to send a message to Colm, whether you come or not.”

The two men turned to walk away, their boots kicking up dust as they marched back to their horses, saddled and ready for battle. Moments later, a third pair of footsteps fell in time behind them.

Kate had made her choice.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The dry spell had lingered for well over a month, and the oppressive heat of Lemoyne had turned the air into a stifling, dusty haze. The town of Rhodes lay beneath a thick, barren cloud of yellow dust, each gust of wind sending particles stinging into Arthur’s throat and eyes, making them water. The winds whipped past him as he spurred Belle forward, urging her faster and faster. His grip on the reins was white-knuckled, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as he tried to steady his racing heart.

The Sheriff had caught on to their schemes, and set them up in Rhodes. Sean had paid the ultimate price with a bullet between the eyes. The image of Sean’s lifeless body was seared into Arthur’s mind, a haunting image he knew would never leave him. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the relentless memory that played over and over like a broken motion picture. Sean had been on the cusp of becoming a man, his 24th birthday just a few months away. Though Arthur gave him grief since the day he joined their gang, deep inside he saw the ambitious Irishman as his younger brother.

The irony of the situation gnawed at Arthur’s consciousness. Sean had warned them it was a setup. He had sensed something was off from the moment they entered the sleepy town, but both Arthur and Micah had dismissed his concerns as mere paranoia. Now, anger swelled in Arthur's belly, especially toward Micah. As much as he despised the shady outlaw, Arthur couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t have made it out alive without his help. Micah recognized that Arthur’s injuries had hindered his abilities, though his accuracy remained as deadly as ever. Together, they had picked off nearly every lawman and trigger-happy drunk who stood in their way, barely escaping with Bill in tow. Arthur knew his disability had slowed him down, and he blamed himself for Sean’s loss.

The escape was a blur of gunfire and chaos. Arthur's mind raced with the events of the ambush, replaying each moment as a jarring blend of fear and fury. Belle's hooves thundered against the ground, each stride a desperate attempt to outrun the mix of anger, guilt and shame that threatened to overwhelm him. The acrid taste of dust and blood lingered in his mouth, a reminder of the violence they had scarcely escaped.

As they galloped through the barren landscape, Arthur's thoughts turned to Kate. He knew she would be waiting for him back at camp, a small comfort amidst the chaos. But the moment of peace would be short lived, they would have to leave again, and soon. The law would catch up to them in a matter of days.

The thought of facing Dutch made Arthur cringe inwardly. Dutch would undoubtedly demand a report of what happened, and Arthur knew it could go one of two ways: Dutch might dismiss the incident, as he had when Arthur previously warned about their increasing sloppiness and the Pinkertons closing in. Or he might tuck-tail and opt for retreat to a new hideout, favoring the path with the fewest casualties. Either way, Arthur was in for an earful back at camp. He silently hoped that someone would go back for Sean, praying he wouldn't be discarded in a mass grave. Every man deserved a proper burial, but for people like him and his gang, it was a luxury rarely granted.

As Clemens Point came into view, a deep sense of unease settled over Arthur. The camp seemed unusually quiet, devoid of the usual bustle and chatter. An eerie silence had taken its place. He panicked for a moment, what if the law had found them while he was away?

Arthur barely had time to dismount before Abigail came running towards him, tears streaming down her face. Dutch was close behind her, his expression grim. A chill ran down Arthur's spine.

Abigail grabbed Arthur's arm, her voice trembling with panic. “Arthur, they took Jack! Someone took Jack!” she cried, her eyes wild with fear.

Dutch placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though his eyes were hard with determination. “We’ll get him back, Abigail. I promise you that,” he said firmly.

Arthur opened his mouth to explain what had happened in Rhodes, but the urgency of the situation left no room for words. His mind was whirling with this new information, trying to piece together what happened while he was away. There was a moment of silence, and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat as he realized Kate was also nowhere to be seen.

“Who took him?” Arthur said finally, his voice betrayed no hint of the unease he was feeling.

Hosea stepped forward, his expression was dire. “We believe the Braithwaites have taken Jack. They’ve been gunning for us ever since we crossed them,” he explained.

“Where is my son?” Abigail shouted. “If anything–oh God,” she choked on the words. “Where is my son Dutch!”

“We will find him,” Dutch affirmed, clenching his jaw, eyes blazing with resolve. “We’ll make that Braithwaite bitch pay for this.” He surveyed the three men as Bill and Micah stood awkwardly nearby, unsure what to say. “What the hell happened to you three? Where’s Sean?”

Arthur took in Hosea’s words and then let out a breath as he shook his head. “They set us up, Dutch. Sheriff Gray killed Sean, nearly got Bill too. We shot up half the town trying to escape. If we’re not careful about this, we’ll surely be caught by the law.” They were in deep shit now, both families were gunning for them. They couldn't afford another casualty, let alone young Jack. The situation tore at his heart.

Dutch’s eyes darkened, his mouth set in a tight line. Arthur recognized that look—it was the look of a man out of options. “We’re getting that boy back, Arthur, or so help me God—”

At that moment, the thunderous sound of hooves echoed down the path to their hideout. Arthur's hand hovered over his revolver, his mind still in fight-or-flight mode. As the riders emerged from the trees, he saw John leading the group, with Kate at the rear. A wave of relief washed over him; at least the law hadn't caught up to them yet. But as they drew closer, Arthur noticed Kate's clothing was stained with blood. His relief quickly turned to a mix of worry and dread.

As John dismounted, Abigail flung herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “They took him, John! They took our boy!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation. John shot a confused look at Arthur, his own emotions swirling with shock and concern. He held onto Abigail, trying to process the chaos around him.

Dutch's voice cut through the commotion like a knife, demanding answers. “How nice of you to finally show up. Where have you lot been?”

“Taking care of business,” John replied dryly, his grip on Abigail tightening as he tried to make sense of the unfolding crisis. The air was thick with urgency and panic, even the winds seemed to hold their breath, anticipating the next move.

“What business?” Dutch spat, his agitation palpable as he glared at his returning crew members. The tension crackled like electricity in the air, setting everyone on edge.

Arthur's heart pounded in his chest, the rapid beat echoing the chaos of his thoughts. Sean's death, the ambush, Jack's disappearance, and the blood on Kate’s clothes all swirled in his mind. He moved with heavy, purposeful steps toward Kate, his focus narrowing to her alone. He tuned out the escalating argument between Dutch and John, his attention solely on the woman he loved.

“Kate,” he called, his voice rough from the dry air and his mounting anxiety.

She turned at the sound of her name, immediately reading the worry etched into Arthur’s face. Noticing her bloodied clothing, she quickly reassured him, “It’s not my blood.”

Relief flooded Arthur, and he pulled her into a tight hug, inhaling her familiar scent. The rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest provided a momentary solace amidst the turmoil.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear as she pulled away slightly.

“Rhodes was a trap. They set the law on us, Sean’s dead,” Arthur briefly explained, his voice heavy with grief. Kate gasped softly, her eyes widening. “We just got back, and Jack’s missing. Hosea thinks it was the Braithwaites.”

Kate stood speechless, feeling the weight of the world crashing down around her. "Oh, Arthur, we have to—"

Arthur gripped her arms fiercely, his eyes burning with a mix of confusion and betrayal. Desperation etched into every line of his face. “Where were you, Kate?” he demanded, his voice laced with hurt and anger.

He hadn’t meant for the words to come out with such force, but his mind was a whirlwind of doubts and anxiety. Jack could be dead for all he knew. The thought of an innocent child being involved in this nightmare gnawed at his soul. Despite everything, Arthur blamed himself for Jack's disappearance. He cursed himself for not ensuring someone was watching over the boy when he left. Normally, there were plenty of people he and Abigail trusted with Jack, but those people had been gone nearly as long as he had. He desperately needed an explanation for her absence.

Kate pulled away from his grip but held his hands tightly, her gaze filled with guilt. Arthur’s heart began to sink, a cold dread settling in his stomach. “We were up at Hanging Dog Ranch,” she breathed. “Where Colm’s men were hiding.”

Arthur’s gaze hardened, a cold look crossing over his features. “I don’t s’ppose you were there to play hooky?” he spat, sarcasm dripping from his words. He felt the world spinning around him, losing Sean, losing Jack, and now, feeling a profound sense of betrayal from the woman he loved.

Kate shook her head quietly, her cheeks flushing pink with shame. “Arthur, I—”

Arthur’s grip on her hands tightened momentarily before he let go. “You promised me, Kate,” he said, his voice breaking. “You promised you wouldn’t get involved with Colm.”

Kate’s heart shattered at the pain in his eyes. “I know, and I am so sorry. But I thought—”

“You thought what?” Arthur interrupted, his voice rising with a mix of anger and fear. “You thought this would help? That getting yourself killed would make things better?”

Kate’s eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling slightly. “I just wanted to protect you and the others from those terrible people.”

“That is not your job, Kate!” Arthur shouted, and Kate flinched, taking a step back from him.

Arthur let out a breath, shaking his head, the betrayal cutting deep. “You just don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand what it does to me, seeing you put yourself in danger like that.”

“I see you put yourself in danger every day,” she answered meekly, her voice wavering with a mix of fear and frustration.

“Don’t make this about me,” he said sharply. “I trusted you to keep that promise.” The life he lived, the life she had joined, was a dangerous one. And Kate wouldn’t be the first woman he lost to such violence. Born from a promise that he broke, costing the life of his family. If he had lost her and Jack in the same night, he feared what he would unleash upon himself.

“I’m sorry Arthur,” Kate breathed deeply, tears finally spilling over and streaming down her cheeks. There was an old selfish ache deep in her soul, a desperate need to make them suffer for taking someone from her. Her fear of loss drove her every thought, every action, every breath. It had consumed her, nearly losing herself during Arthur’s recovery. Kate had never known anything but grief and loss. Holding on so tightly to her sliver of happiness that she was smothering it. Her selfish need cost her Arthur’s trust.

“Kate,” his voice was softer now, laced with deep sorrow. Arthur shook his head, “I can’t go through this again.” His eyes softened, though the hurt remained.

Kate opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. She felt a dark sense of dread, knowing that despite her intentions she had broken his trust and his heart.

The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon them, a suffocating silence settling in. Arthur’s eyes, filled with a mix of anger and hurt, searched hers. The pain of his words, the pain of her actions, it all mingled together in a storm of emotions that neither of them could escape. A deeper love that remained unspoken.

Before she could find the words to make things right, Dutch’s voice boomed across the camp. “We’re not waiting another damn minute! Mount up, we’re riding out to get Jack back now!”

Arthur turned away, his expression unreadable. “I’m glad that you’re home safe. I wish I could say the same for Jack,” he said, walking over to mount his mare once more. The other boys were saddling up, the tension in the air thick with anticipation.

Kate stood in stunned silence, tears streaming down her face. The fear of losing Arthur, the guilt of breaking her promise, and the terror of what lay ahead gnawed at her. She felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness as she watched Arthur ride off into the night, leaving her standing there with her heart in pieces.

As she watched the men race down the winding path out of Clemens Point, she noticed Abigail's trembling form. Abigail was using her apron to wipe the tears that stained her cheeks. Kate swallowed her sorrow, pushing down her own broken heart. This was about Jack and Abigail.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“I bet this has something to do with why you got shot to hell in town.” John’s voice broke Arthur from his clouding thoughts. The trees raced past them in a blur, and Arthur hadn’t even realized his brother was riding right beside him.

Arthur’s mind was a whirlwind of anxiety and turmoil. The events of the day had left him feeling raw and exposed. The setup in Rhodes, Kate’s actions, and now Jack’s abduction—all of it weighed heavily on him. The feeling gnawing at his insides.

“I don’t want to think about that right now, John,” he answered, trying to push the memory of Sean's lifeless body out of his mind. “We have to focus on Jack.”

John’s voice rose with anger, a mirror of Arthur's own inner turmoil. “I swear, I’ll kill every single one of them.” The desperation in his voice was palpable, and Arthur could sense the fear behind his brother's bravado.

Dutch’s voice called from the front of the line, a forced calmness trying to steady the group. “Easy, John. Try to stay calm. We’ll make them pay for this.”

“What about the plan, Dutch? Isn’t this family sitting on gold?” Bill’s voice cut through the night, his ulterior concerns evident.

Hosea answered, his tone grim and weary. “I hate to break it to you, but there is no gold. I’ve turned every stone. If they ever had any, it's gone.”

“For Christ’s sake, Hosea, after everything? Another perfect plan fed to the dogs,” John retorted, his voice laced with bitter frustration. Arthur felt the same anger bubbling up inside him—another one of Dutch’s schemes that had led them into danger and kept them on the run from the law.

“We underestimated them,” said Hosea, his voice heavy with regret and concern.

“No, they underestimated us!” Dutch roared, his voice echoing through the trees. “Enough talk. There’s no point arguing how we got here. This is where we are. And we are going to kill every one of those inbred trash.”

Arthur’s grip tightened on the reins, his knuckles white with tension. The thought of what lay ahead mixed with a fierce determination to bring Jack back safely. His heart pounded in his chest, a relentless drumbeat of anxiety and resolve. As they rode on, the night closed in around them, a shroud of darkness and danger. The only sounds were the thunder of hooves and the heavy breathing of their mounts. Arthur’s mind was a storm of emotions, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.

The ride to Braithwaite Manor was filled with a tense silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. Arthur’s mind kept drifting back to Kate. They were close now, and there was no turning back. Jack’s life was at risk. The stakes were higher than ever, and the weight of their mission rested heavily on his heart. There was no room for distraction or hesitation.

Dutch’s voice broke through the silence, a final order before the storm. “Nobody makes a move until I say so. Follow my lead.”

The tension in the air was electric as they approached the manor, each man ready for the fight of their lives. As they dismounted, Arthur’s thoughts turned briefly to Kate once more.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate couldn’t sleep. The lamp was down to the midnight oil in the small green canvas tent that the Marstons called home. She had stayed with Abigail while the men were out in search of Jack. She couldn’t tell how long they had been gone; her weary mind drifted in and out of consciousness. She tried to stay alert for their arrival, or for anyone else who might try to abduct another member of their gang.

Abigail slept beside her, her cheeks tinted pink from tears. She clutched Jack's nightgown tightly to her chest, inhaling the scent of her child, her whole world. Kate understood that feeling. She looked down at her hands, the dim light flickering across her fingers. Old blood was dried into the cracks of her nails. Images flashed before her eyes of the violence that had defined her day. She had unleashed herself on Colm’s men, disregarding her promise. And consequently, she had neglected the safety of those left behind at camp.

An acidic queasiness settled in her belly. It had felt good to kill those men. By some miracle, or perhaps coincidence, she had found Arthur’s captors amongst the men hiding at the ranch. The two men had recognized her, though she had no idea how. They had never met before. But like most cocky men, they boasted about Arthur’s torture and the pain they would inflict upon her. Little did they know who she was.

Keeping them alive as the last two men standing, Kate gave them the same courtesy they had given Arthur. She made sure they would never use their arms again, and strung them up by their ankles. Finally, she sliced open their bellies, their blood draining like pigs for the slaughter. Her friends watched in cautious silence. And when she was done, she mounted Lorena, and together they left the ranch without so much as another word.

It was justice, Kate tried to convince herself. But no, it was a deep selfishness. One that an old friend had stoked like flames to a fire. Perhaps it was in her nature, to lose lives and take them. All of the people Kate was, and tried to be, were always a part of her. The mother, the nurturer, the defender, and the killer.

She regretted her actions, but selfishly, she would do it all again. The thrill of revenge had brought her a temporary sense of control, a fleeting moment where she felt powerful in a world that constantly threatened to strip her of everything she held dear. But as she sat in the tent, the reality of her choices weighed heavily on her. She wasn’t sure if she could ever reconcile the different parts of herself—the woman who longed for peace and the one who couldn’t escape the violence that had shaped her life.

Exhaustion finally overcame her. The flickering light of the lamp faded as she drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by the faces of the men she had killed and the fear of what might come next.

When Kate awoke the next morning, the first light of dawn seeped through the tent’s seams. She reached out instinctively, but the space beside her was empty. Abigail was gone. Panic gripped her heart as she sat up quickly, straining to hear the muffled voices outside the tent.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur stood at the back of the crowd, his eyes scanning the faces around the small wooden table where Dutch sat, the tension palpable in the air. Dutch was deep in thought, the weight of leadership pressing heavily on his shoulders as the gang awaited his orders. Abigail stood silently next to John, her face a mask of fury and desperation. Her tears had dried, replaced by a seething anger at the men she had trusted to protect her family, now arguing over their next move.

The Braithwaites didn’t have Jack. They had passed him off to a man named Angelo Bronte. Arthur’s mind raced with strategies for their next step. Bronte was supposedly in Saint Denis, the heart of the new modern America, where law was heavily enforced, and policemen patrolled every corner. They needed to be cautious. Any misstep could end with them at the end of a rope, and that wouldn’t help Jack at all.

As Arthur idly rubbed his wounded arm, the pain a constant reminder of his recent ordeal, he replayed the events of the night over and over in his mind. They had stormed the Braithwaite manor, killing everyone who stood in their way. But they had been too late. Dutch had shot Catherine Braithwaite without hesitation and ordered the house to be burned to the ground. An entire empire, a long-standing family, wiped out in an instant.

He was lost in his thoughts when a gentle touch on his arm brought him back to the present. Turning around, he found himself face to face with Kate. The memory of her actions, the betrayal he felt, and the look in her eyes were too much to bear. He quickly averted his gaze.

“Arthur,” she began quietly, her voice trembling with worry. “Where is Jack? Is he—”

Arthur shook his head, cutting her off. “They didn’t have him,” he said curtly.

“W-what did you find?” she stuttered, her voice edged with panic.

He knew he was being cruel by withholding details, but the turmoil inside him made it difficult to be gentle. With a sigh, he turned to face her again. “They handed him off to some Bronte fellow. Jack is somewhere in Saint Denis.”

“I don’t understand, why would they do this? What do we do now?” she asked, her voice rising in desperation.

Arthur gestured towards the group of men who were still arguing heatedly. “They’re working on it,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Feeling incredibly defeated, Arthur’s thoughts were a blend of frustration and sorrow. He had thought things were getting better. After nearly dying from sepsis, he had started to find comfort and joy in Kate’s presence. But now, everything seemed to be falling apart. Sean’s death had barely been processed, overshadowed by Jack’s disappearance. His recent fight with Kate had left a gaping hole in his heart, the urge to mend things with her gnawing at him. But there was no time for feelings right now.

The gang was on the brink of a precipice, and Arthur knew they needed to act quickly and decisively. As much as he wanted to fix things with Kate, Jack’s safety had to come first. Pushing down his own emotions, he focused on the task at hand, knowing that every moment they delayed could bring them closer to disaster.

“It’s gonna work out, John,” Hosea’s voice joined the commotion, his tone reassuring. “Jack will be fine. Just listen to Dutch.”

Dutch’s voice cut through the din, authoritative and calm. “I don’t expect you to understand this, but I need your trust. Your word, now more than ever. No more running off behind my back. I know you were trying to do the right thing—”

“If I don’t get that boy back safe, I’m—” John shot a glance at Abigail, who stood trembling with a mix of anger and fear. “She’ll kill us all.”

“Looking at this logically, that boy is fine. They only took him to scare us. Nobody takes a child to harm him,” Dutch continued, his words meant to be comforting but failing to ease the tension.

“It’s true, John,” Hosea chimed in, placing a reaffirming hand on his shoulder. “Arthur, what do you think?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head slightly. They were all trying to be strong for John, but deep down, they were just as scared. They’d seen what this world could do to children. The cruelties of their life were too real, too close. There was no guarantee Jack was safe.

“The boy will be fine,” Arthur lied, trying to steady his voice. “But of course, Marston’s scared rotten. We killed all those people, stirred up all that trouble…for nothing.”

Dutch scoffed from his seat. “No. No, not for nothing. For living. We get that boy back, and we go. It’s about time we leave this place. Trust me.”

Suddenly, Lenny’s voice boomed from the camp entrance. “Dutch! We’ve got a problem!” He shouted, rifles raised and pointing at two strangers who walked into camp with their hands held high.

Arthur’s mouth went dry. It was the Pinkertons. Agent Ross and Agent Milton.

“Not a problem, visitors. We come with a solution,” Milton said coldly, his demeanor relaxed and confident. His gaze found Arthur’s. “Ah, Mr. Morgan. Nice to see you again.”

Instinctively, Arthur stepped in front of Kate, shielding her from whatever was about to unfold. The other gang members began to surround the two agents, their suspicion evident. Dutch betrayed no hint of surprise, remaining seated comfortably.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?” Dutch said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but this is a civilized land now. We didn’t kill all them savages only to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity was not yet invented,” Milton explained, his disdain palpable. “This thing? It’s done,” he spat.

Dutch finally rose from his seat, confronting the agent. “This land was never civilized. It’s consumed with man’s love for greed.”

“And that lets you take what you please? Kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the messiah to these lost souls you’ve led astray?” Milton retorted coldly.

“I’m nothing but a seeker, Mr. Milton,” Dutch replied.

“You’re nothing but a bunch of killers. But I came here to make a deal; you come with me and I’ll give the rest of you three days to run off and disappear. I’m giving you one last chance to live like decent human beings.” Milton’s voice rose, addressing everyone in the gang.

A bitter chuckle rose from Dutch’s throat. “Ain’t that a fine thing? You risked death by coming into a den of murderers and thieves to have me. And to give them the chance to live and love?”

Kate remained quiet behind Arthur, her hand ready to draw her pistol at a moment's notice. But she sensed that this man, this detective, was telling the truth. Why would he risk so much for one man unless he was out of options?

“I don’t want to kill all these people, Dutch. Just you,” Milton answered, his resolve unwavering.

Dutch raised his hands, a hint of mockery in his voice. “In that case, I’d be happy to join you, Agent Milton.” As he stepped closer to the detective, everyone simultaneously began to draw their pistols.

Kate watched the moment unfold with genuine concern and admiration. These people, Arthur’s gang, were willing to risk everything for one man. Their loyalty and dedication ran deeper than she could ever imagine.

It was Ms. Grimshaw who leveled her shotgun and gave the final orders. “I think it’s time our new friends leave.”

Agent Milton raised his hands once more as Lenny and Javier began to escort them out of camp. “You’re making a big mistake, all of you!”

“The only mistake is how you keep following us. Good day, sir,” Dutch said, turning away, suddenly unbothered.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. And when I return, all of you will die. Run away from this place, you fools!” Milton’s tone carried a desperate warning. As he turned to leave, his gaze locked with Kate’s for a moment. He narrowed his eyes, trying to piece together her familiar face, but Javier’s gun pushed him along.

“How dreadful,” Dutch chuckled as he returned to his seat.

Arthur approached Dutch quickly, his steps heavy with the weight of the situation. “What now?”

“We get out of here. Have the women start packing. I’m sending you and the others to look for a new hideout. We’re running out of time,” Dutch said quietly, his urgency clear.

As Arthur turned to carry out Dutch’s orders, his eyes met Kate’s once more. The pain and fear were mirrored in their gazes. There was no time for reconciliation now. They had a mission to complete, and the stakes had never been higher.

“Arthur, maybe we should consider—” Kate began her voice quiet, searching for the right words to address their precarious situation.

Arthur spun on his heel so fast it made her dizzy. “Don’t. Don’t you even suggest it. You don’t have a say in this anymore, Kate.” His rage towards the Pinkertons and his anxiety about the lives at stake spilled out in hot bursts towards the woman he loved, and he couldn't stop the fire from spreading.

“Excuse me?” she responded, her voice a mix of offense and hurt. “I only want what's best for the gang.”

“The best thing to do now is leave. Go help the women pack,” he ordered, turning away from her.

“When does it end, Arthur? This cat-and-mouse game you have with seemingly every lawman in this country. How many more people have to be killed for it to stop?” Kate’s voice wavered with her fading strength. It was all too much to handle; everything was changing so fast. And now an innocent child was involved. She didn’t know what to do.

Arthur’s voice roared back, “I don’t know! Make up your goddamn mind, Kate. You go back on your word and put a target on your back. And now you want to lecture me on my poor choices? If you’re tired of running, you can leave. I won’t stop you.”

He left her with those words, his steps heavy and final. The men took off without a moment's hesitation, Ms. Grimshaw dishing out orders to begin loading the wagons. Kate felt a bitter moment of déjà vu, back to the day at the Downes ranch. She had scolded him for his actions, as if she were one to reprimand him. Kate had glimpsed the kind of man he truly was that day—the hardened outlaw, the merciless killer. She knew there was a kind heart inside him, and she had fallen in love with that part of him. Convinced herself that she could persuade him to leave it all behind, to give up that title for something softer. Arthur wanted it too, but only now was she beginning to understand the giant inside him. The man who had never known peace, who spent every moment fighting for his life and the lives of his family.

Arthur was consumed by his loyalty, as Kate was consumed by her grief. The realization hit her hard, and she felt a deep, gnawing sorrow. She watched him mount his horse, his back tense with determination and anger. The bitter truth settled over her like a shroud—no matter how much they loved each other, the world they lived in was tearing them apart.

A/N: I hope this chapter was alright! To be honest I went back and forth over this conflict for a while, and I think that’s where the birth of my writers block began. I wasn’t intending for their fight to become so heated, but then i was like “you know what? Their situation is a crock of shit, it can’t all be sunshine and rainbows.”

(Also trying to squeeze this in while simultaneously returning to a major plot point of the game was really hard haha)

So yeah, i may have gotten a bit carried away. But fear not, my summary for this chapter was incredibly dramatic. They’re not breaking up! They just got to figure themselves out, and come to understand one another. I want to make it clear that Kate has just as many flaws as Arthur, and that she suffers in silence too. God these two really need each other 😭

I think this was my first time writing some serious angst that didn’t involve one of them nearly dying (lol). So let me know how I did! It’s been awhile since I updated this story, and sometimes things can get lost to the tricks of time. If you notice any inconsistencies or plot holes please don’t be shy to point them out to me! 🙏❤️

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x reader #ao3 #arthur morgan x oc #fanfiction #arthur morgan rdr2 #lots of angst #hurt/comfort #mostly hurt im sorry #rdr2 fandom

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galtips · 5 months ago

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The origins of gyaru possibly go back to the 1980s when all-girl biker gangs ruled Tokyo’s streets. Their hardcore style, attitude and rites of passage like graduation ceremonies, very much remind us of the gyaru of today. Even more so they embodied a rebellious spirit, now referred to as gyaru maindo (gyaru mind). The magazine “Teen’s Road” that brought this biker style to small town schoolgirls. Over time, leather jackets and boiler suits with kanji lettering became a more mainstream trend and real biker girls got angry at posers! Teen’s Road eventually ended because the staff were “tired of being physically assaulted by the readers” and some biker girls were even kidnapped.

At the same time, elite university clubs were throwing parties in Shibuya with organisers known as chiimaa (teamers). These well-to-do chiimaa regularly hit the dance floor instead of hitting the books. Chiimaa’s girlfriends mimicked LA beach style and earned the nickname paragyaru or “paradise girls”. Paragyaru didn’t know yet but their dress sense would inspire what was to follow in the 1990s,

Kogyaru (“ko” meaning “little” or “kid”) appeared in the 1990s. The name is believed to have originated as bouncer slang to describe the high school paragyaru girls who tried to sneak into clubs by dressing older. Affluent high school girls with chestnut coloured dyed hair (chapatsu), short school skirts, designer uniform blazers, oversized cardigans and modest tans were the trendsetters of the time. Loose white socks and white eye makeup were the cherry on top! But why were high school girls wearing their uniform after school? It was actually a popular ploy for rich schools to entice new freshmen with the fashionable designer uniforms. Girls wanted to be seen wearing their blazer and skirt after school as a marker of style, school pride and as a symbol of youth.

High schoolers eventually took over department store Shibuya109. Anything bought there was considered kogyaru style, like crop tops from Me Jane and Esperanza platform sandals. Many of the first kogyaru began to work at 109 shops becoming well-known gyaru fashionistas, dubbed “super charisma clerks” (スーパーカリスマ店員). Celebrities like singer Amuro Namie with her natural kogyaru appearance placed gyaru style into the mainstream’s consciousness. She had a natural Okinawan tan, light brown hair and wore white lipstick. Her stage outfits mimicked 109 style, and so Amuro fans thinned their eyebrows, wore chunky platform boots and colourful belly tops in admiration. That earned them the nickname Amuraa (Amuro admirers) which crossed over with gyaru style.

In 1995, Egg magazine launched as the number one source of gyaru fashion and lifestyle. After all, gyaru didn’t care what others thought about them and they took pleasure in being loud, sex-positive and even developed their own slang. Egg magazine took street snaps of kogyaru who sometimes went on to become regular models, for example Rumi Itabashi and Kaoru Watanabe. Meanwhile, purikura launched in 1995 with the idea for business professionals to take miniature portraits of themselves for their business cards. No one foresaw them becoming super popular in gyaru culture, with pages and pages dedicated to them in Egg.

Adults were worried about Japan’s declining national character in the late 1990s. Kogyaru with their gyaru mind ethos were targeted and chastised for their alleged practice of enjo kōsai (compensated dating). Growing up with new tech like pokeberu (early pagers) and terekura (telephone clubs), these women gained more independence but also new ways to wreak havoc. For example, terekura were created to connect men and women who wanted to date. But when kogyaru called in to the terekura, they set the men up on a date just to stand them up.

Teenage girls were also widely viewed as serial shopaholics. People thought that they wouldn’t think twice about selling their worn underwear to businessmen for money! Even though only a handful of kogyaru did this, the media didn’t care! Kogyaru were the face of “shameful” public morals. But the more the media covered enjo kōsai, the more schoolgirls congregated in Shibuya’s streets to make big bucks! In the end teenage prostitution became associated with kogyaru style.

After a decade of kogyaru mania, new substyles and gyaru circles emerged. One of the most prominent gyaru circles was Angeleek. Angeleek primarily wore a style of gyaru called ganguro, which were gyaru who darkened their skin. Other substyles like mamba and yamanba evolved out of ganguro. Yamanba wore the darkest foundation they could get their hands on, wore extreme white eyeliner, harsh nose contour and decorated their cheeks with gems and flowers. They liked tropical, beachy clothes and floral accessories. It was dramatic and yamanba were impossible to ignore! But by the early 2000s there was a sudden decline in these more extreme styles. Due to the style’s unsavory reputation, girls turned to other substyles of gyaru or stopped being gyaru completely. Egg even took a break from publishing for a few months. Was this the end?

Not exactly! Egg and other gyaru magazines returned as the mid-2000s brought about an unexpected gyaru renaissance. In 2005, another magazine called Ageha was launched. It was aimed at gyaru Hostesses who called their style agejo. By 2008, gyaru was thriving and there were so many genres of gyaru and the style became more popular internationally. Styles like hime-gyaru, hime-kaji, onee-gyaru, rokku-gyaru and ame-kaji entered the scene. Tsubasa Masuwaka, a prominent gyaru figure at the time, was featured on both gyaru and non-gyaru magazine covers. She also launched a makeup and false lashes line called Dolly Wink which is still popular today!

The late 2000s to mid 2010s saw a more laid back toned-down look. Gradually, girls lost interest in the style and Egg and Ageha ceased publication. Gyaru brands followed the magazines by toning down or rebranding. In 2014, Alisa Ueno’s brand Fig&Viper was dubbed as neo-gyaru in an article by ViVi magazine which sparked some debate. Many gyaru did not view this brand as gyaru and Alisa Ueno herself admitted that she never called her brand neo-gyaru.

Not many other styles have lasted as long, or made so many comebacks. From the biker gangs of the 1980s to the yamanba of the 2000s, gyaru fashion has gone through many changes. Some even claim we are in a post-gyaru era! Will it ever become a mainstream fashion again? Who knows, but in the meantime we’ll be rehearsing our Para Para dance moves!

Ps if you don’t want to read all of that here is some YouTube links!

youtube

#Youtube #gyarustyle #yamanba gyaru #gaijin gyaru #black gyaru #gyaru aesthetic #kuro gyaru #gyaru blog #gyaru fashion #gyaru #heisei gyaru

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skzhocomments · 1 year ago

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THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Story Masterlist (COMPLETED)

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x Emilia (alias: Shade)

Genre: MAFIA AU, angst, romance

Word Count: ~33k words

Warnings: explicit mature content, mentions of death and other graphic scenes (it's a Mafia...), swearing, blood, anxiety etc.

This is just a story that doesn’t describe SKZ members’ true characters in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad: click here and AO3: click here

A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

---

Summary:

"Looking back on it, I should've noticed that I was falling way too fast, way too hard, and that this strong urge to have him flushed over me like a tsunami would only drown me. I wanted more. I should've known then how dangerous that was. I was oblivious that his kisses were poison. How couldn't I notice just by the euphoria they made me feel? I should've known it was too good to be true. But the sad thing is, even if I knew, it probably wouldn't have mattered. As long as it was him, I would've been happy to stay oblivious. I would've gladly drunk any poison. I should've known then that he wouldn't do the same for me. It was not poison that I was tasting on his kisses, but heartbreak. I should've wanted less." This book takes place in the Mafia Universe, where Chan is the young leader of one of the most powerful gangs out there, Stray Kids. Fate ties him and Emilia (or Shade, by alias) together - but will this encounter bring anything positive, or would it just bring pain to the both of them? We shall see in "The White Lily" - an angsty, suspenseful fanfic, the first story of many to come in the Mafia Series. Bang Chan Fanfiction

The story and cover edit are original and my property. Any similarities to other stories are purely coincidental. Emilia, the protagonist, is a made-up character. Stray Kids members or any other famous people mentioned along this story DO NOT represent their true character in any way, they are simply mentioned in order to provide a visual representation for the readers. Their personas obviously have nothing to do with their true personalities. They're just characters I've created for this story, so please don't take this too seriously.

Mature content ahead.

18+

---

Chapter 1 - Girl on a mission - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 2 - First meetings - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 3 - Borrowed time - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 4 - The party and the after party - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 5 - An eye for an eye - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 6 - Nightmareless - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 7 - SKZ, you're next - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 8 - The Overpass - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 9 - Paint it black - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 10 - Velvet glove around an iron fist - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 11 - Olive branch - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 12 - The White Lily - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 13 - Project Thrips - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 14 - Crimson Red - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 15 - I was never there - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 16 - Yours truly, Shade - Tumblr + Wattpad + AO3 (FINAL CHAPTER)

Mafia Series Book #2 - The Black Iris and The Withered Rose

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year ago

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jealous

this is a repost, as tumblr blocked the original or flagged me ?? have no clue why

pairing || peter quill x f reader

wc || 0.7k

warnings || none, just quill being a lil jelly

hope you like it💌

masterlist + rules

taglist

original post

After the Battle of Earth two years ago, you and the other Guardians remained quite good friends with the Avengers you had met. Every so often, you and the team would be invited to parties at their temporary compound. As it was such a long journey from Knowhere, you all tended to decline the invitations, much preferring to remain in the comfort of home rather than travel halfway across the galaxy. But, as it was coming up the anniversary, you felt as though you were obliged to make an appearance considering what you had all been through.

Rocket lands the Bowie on the landing bay just outside, and you all stand from your seats, stretching your tired legs as you straighten over your clothes, preparing to exit the ship and join the rest of the party. You turn to Quill, sweetly smiling as you extend a hand, silently asking him to take it in his. He laces his hand into yours, firmly shaking as a boyish grin spreads across his lips.

"No—“ you sigh, pulling your hand from his. "You weren't supposed— ugh,"

"What was I supposed to do?" Peter questions, his tone full of sincerity as he watches you walk away with the girls.

"You were supposed to escort her off the ship, Pete," Rocket says flatly, walking past.

"I am Groot."

"I am not a moron." Quill protests. "Drax, you hearing this?"

"You are a moron Quill," he replies simply, following behind Rocket and Groot.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is this? Gang up on Quill day? Look, I didn't know she wanted me to help her. I thought she wanted to shake my hand, that's all."

"Then go find her, idiot." Rocket adds, nodding Quill along.

Peter makes his way inside the compound to search for you, immediately bumping into people he doesn't recognise. "God, this music is awful," he mumbles, adjusting his shirt as he makes his way to the bar upstairs. Quill hears a familiar Asgardian bellow of a laugh as he walks up the steps, following the sound, he sees the back of Thor with his arm draped over the shoulder of a woman- a girl, Quill's 'girl'.

He rushes over, abruptly interrupting the conversation.

"Oh hey, Quill," you say slyly, leaning into Thor as you bat your lashes at the clearly jealous-looking guy standing before you.

"Good to see you," Thor greets, extending a hand. "Missed ya, buddy,"

Peter swats his hand away. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. What uh— what you doing?" he asks inconspicuously, gazing around the busy room with his hands on his hips.

"He was just telling me a funny story," you pause to laugh, tapping Thor on the chest. "You should tell him. He'd love it."

As Thor described the humourous events of the story, you watched Peter's face begin to contort, barely keeping his composure, his nostrils practically flaring as he stared at your lingering hand. Keeping your eyes glued to Quill's, you taunt him further, lightly circling your hand over Thor's muscular arm as you engage in the conversation.

"Tree?" Thor pauses the story as he catches a glimpse of Groot above the swarm of people. "One minute," he says, slipping from you. "I'll be right back."

"What the hell was that?" Quill whispers, his tone full of irritation.

"What was what?" you ask, crossing your legs as you pat the now-empty space beside you, silently urging him to sit.

"You're such a dick," he chuckles, sitting close beside you, his hip pressed to yours as he drapes his arm over your shoulder.

"Yeah, well... so are you," you snicker, resting your hand on his thigh, slowly leaning into him. "God, this music is awful,"

"Right?"

You and Peter sit together in comfortable silence as you gaze around the room of unfamiliar people, watching the conversations play out as you snuggle into one another's side. Both of you avoiding the daunting question. The question of your undeclared situation.

"We really should mingle," you say begrudgingly, tapping him on the leg.

"Ugh," he groans, slipping from your warmth and standing up. He extends a hand, patiently waiting for you to take it. Lacing your hand in his, you shake it with a smug grin across your lips.

"What? I thought you wanted me to shake it," you laugh heartily, wrapping your arm around his side as he leads you through the crowd of people.

"You really are a dick."

@annielr @ugh09876554444 @spacetalbot @bubblezuku

#peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill x fem!reader #peter quill x female reader #peter quill x you #peter quill imagine #peter quill fanfic #peter quill fanfiction #peter quill imagines #peter quill fluff #gotg #gotg fanfiction #star lord #starlord x you #starlord x reader

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sometimesibewriting · 11 months ago

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Ferris Wheel Kiss

✨Summary: You, Uryu, and friends go to the amusement park in Karakura Town for a day of fun. But get separated on the Ferris Wheel, what will happen when you two are alone.

💙Long time no see. I originally intended to drop this one shot in the fall, but life got in the way. Very happy that this fits for winter as well somewhat. Dropping this on the first day of 2024, so HAPPY NEW YEAR. 🥳🥳

❌No warnings, tis the fluffiest of the fluff fics I have ever written.

📃Wordcount: 1398

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52761025

Rukia and Renji had gotten permission to visit the world of the living. Orihime being Orihime thought this was a good excuse to enjoy some end of fall activities—one of her many ideas being to go to an amusement park in Kurakura town.

Despite coming there as a group, you and Uryu walked behind the group you have come with.

"Doesn't it feel...like…” You began.

“Were third wheeling, yes, yes it does." He pushed up his glasses. "What was Chad's excuse for not coming?" You asked. “An emergency at work.”

“What type of emergency does a GYM have?!? You're a medical student even you came!”

"Well in my defense, the semester just ended. Therefore I was free to come." This didn’t do anything to curb your annoyance which Uryu just sighed at. You’ve been in a sour mood ever since everyone split off into their own pairs. Uryu has been trying to knock you out of it since it started but he was failing miserably.

Orihime walked up to the both of you. "We were thinking the next ride would be the Ferris Wheel. Unless you guys want to ride something else? We're open to suggestions."

"We pretty much rode and played everything. The Ferris wheel is a good way to end the day." You smiled back at her. "I wanted to get hot chocolate at one of the stands. Maybe after." Uryu added.

"That sounds wonderful. I’ll tell the others that you guys like the idea.” Orihime skipped back happily to the group, you went to follow after her but was stopped by Uryu. Causing you to turn around. "What now?" You huffed.

“Aren’t you forgetting about something?” He asked nonchalantly. “I have my wallet, and you and the rest of the gang are here so no.” Uryu kept a straight face at your sarcastic remark. "Your fear of heights."

You waved a hand at him. “I’ll be fine.” He gave you a look, a look that said he knew you were lying.

"I don't understand why you don't tell them. Having acrophobia is nothing to be embarrassed about, it's common. Besides you almost passed out on the small roller coaster."

“But I didn't so…” Uryu tried to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Besides, if I have you with me I’ll be fine.” He hid his face deeper in his scarf as his face warmed. “You cloud also just fake a sickness to get out of riding.” He suggested.

You thought a moment, “Like I said, I will be fine.” He pushed up his glasses with a sigh. “It’s the easiest way out.”

“Yes. But then you’ll stay behind with me and then people would think they were, ya know.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Together.”

"That's rich coming from someone who has been gossiping all day about the same thing.”

“I was not gossiping, just venting my frustrations on how this will affect our group dynamic going forward.” You put on your most straight face, all while Uryu shook his head. “Even if true, I think all our friendships would be fine…unless someone in the party has unrequired feelings.”

He looked in your direction. “Not me.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, let's go.”

___________________________________________________________

Everyone lined up to get on the Ferris wheel, it was late in the evening the temperature had dipped a little. You had your hands in front of you constantly fidgeting.

Uryu grabbed your hand causing you to stop, he held your hand in his. “You’ll be fine, your with me remember?”

It was cheesy but it helped your unease. “Four people to each cart." You both turned as Ichigo read the sign aloud. "That's perfect. The girls can ride in one and we boys can ride in the other." Renji elbowed Ichigo in the side. "What was that for pineapple?!?"

"Cause you're not thinking.” Renji pulled Uryu away without warning, his hand slipping out of yours.

Orihime tilted her head as they walked off. "I wonder what they are discussing?" Rukia looked unimpressed. "Probably something stupid."

Renji kept his arms around the boys. "So what we were thinking..." He looked at Uryu. "There is no we." Renji ignored him. “Two girls and two boys in one car, and then one boy and one girl in the other.”

“You pulled us aside just to say that, when it was going that way anyway.” Uryu pushed up his glasses and began walking away. “I’ll take the single cart by the way.”

____________________________________________________________

You were led on by the staff, taking an inner seat, while sat Uryu in the outer seat. The ride started rocking slightly, you grabbed onto the bar gripping it too tight. Uryu put his hand over yours, the warmth from his gloved hand making you feel instantly better.

The higher the ride got the more anxious you became, trying your best to hide it from Uryu who caught on to it immediately. Soon you guys were halfway to the top.

Your chest began to heave in and out, and your mind started to spin as it came to a stop again. If it wasn’t for your fear of heights it would have been a site to behold. The park looked gorgeous in the evening light.

It was then you felt something warm on your cheek, it being Uryu’s hand for the second time that night. He turned your face so that you were facing him. “I know it’s obvious, but it’s best not to look down, and if you do try not to think of falling…which I know is hard but….” He trailed off.

“So, the best way to get through this is to only look at you.” Uryu cleared his throat while his checks turned a faint pink. “No-ot necessarily you could look anywhere in the basket. Just not out the window.” He stuttered.

“I think looking at you is better.” You said casually. “Your just gonna stare at me the whole ride?” Uryu shifted awkwardly. “Not in silence though.”

“I doubt that.” He said glancing elsewhere. You looked down searching your brain for something to say, suddenly focusing back on his eyes. Tilting your head slightly, “Yah know, your eyes are pretty.”

All Uryu wanted was to curl up into a ball and disappear when you said that, yet he stayed calm, although his red face and ears told a different story.

“There’s no need to say all that.” He kicked himself for that response. “Is it cause you already know?” You continued the conversation. “I mean…I don’t think about my looks all that much.”

“Mm. That sucks cause your not that bad looking.” He raised an eyebrow, he knew he had looks somewhat. But he never entertained the idea of someone being attracted to him, especially you.

“You find me attractive?” He blurted out and you froze. Did you? He did look handsome in the outfit he came in today. But if you were being honest that was every day, he always knew how to dress so well. It also didn’t help how attentive he was to you in battle and real life. And you weren't lying when you said his eyes were pretty. You always thought that even as a teen.

You looked back at him, his face red but serious. “Does this mean you're asking me out?” It was the first thing that came to your jumbled up brain. Uryu’s facial expression changed. “I was just asking a general question. I didn't mean for it to come off like that.”

The way not only his expression changed, but the every changing pitch in his voice had you thinking other wise.

“Your such a lair.”

“I don’t see how that was a lie.” He moved his hand from your cheek, the cold hit your cheek feeling unpleasant. “I do find you attractive, happy?” Without any warning you put both hands on each side of his cheeks.

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was because you two were alone? Maybe it was because of the conversation you were having but you inched closer and closer to his lips, his eyelids slightly closing as you did. It didn’t take long for your lips to find his. Pulling away only after a few seconds.

What you didn’t expect was for Uryu to put his hand behind your neck and pull you in for a longer and deeper kiss. He pulled away after a few seconds leaving you painting, while he was stable. What kind of breath control does he have you wondered.

After a few moments of sitting in silence and staring at each other, the cart started moving as if on cue.

“I wasn't asking you to be fair, but I do wonder if we can we hang out alone more like this.”

"I wouldn't mind."

That was all you said as the car came to a stop.

#uryuu ishida #uryu ishida #uryu x reader #uryuu x reader #bleach x reader #bleach fanfic #bleach fanfiction #ishida x reader #bleach reader insert #uryuu #uryu #x reader #bleach #fluff #sometimesibewriting uryu

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dorianbrightmusic · 1 year ago

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a primer for all my mutuals watching me go through a Persona 2 hyperfixation

basically, so y'all understand what these memes/headcanons/fanarts/liveblogs of me weeping are, i present a terrible explanation of the Persona 2 duology for all those of you who are confused. Spoilers ahead.

-There are two games that constitute Persona 2: The first is Innocent Sin, and that timeline gets yeeted at the end in favour of the second game, Eternal Punishment

-The protagonist of IS is Tatsuya Suou. He's a (canonically!) bisexual mess. He's great with swords and great with dudes, but otherwise horrible at communication. He's autistic motorcycle man. He's the only one whose memory is not nuked by the timeline reset, and it destroys him internally

-In both games: rumours are becoming reality. Ways such rumours get utilised: A tyrannical school principal reverses his male pattern baldness; one guy can recite pi to the hundredth thousandth place; Hitler is alive and wearing sunglasses;

-Tatsuya has childhood friends in IS. They have amnesia because trauma, but then remember because more trauma. These friends include: Maya Amano (see below); a white girl who punches dudes; THE GREAT MICHEL, ROCKSTAR AND UNDERPANTS GANG LEADER; and one (1) traumatised gay murderer who's also the resident astrology bitch

-(The party also includes Yukino, a sane lesbian)

-There is a gay romance option between Tatsuya and Astrology Bitch, and you are a coward if you don't select it

-Astrology Bitch is a clown for half of IS. Specifically, a Tumblr sexyman murder clown.

-The protagonist of EP is Maya Amano. She wears a jacket with lovehearts sewn over each breast, and at the end of IS, she gets stabbed with the lance that pierced Jesus, and dies

-Maya dying sets off an apocalypse, destroying the world. To reverse the apocalypse, childhood friends petition the local god to yeet this timeline in favour of one where they never met (that being the world of EP). If any of them remember that they know each other, then the new timeline is at risk of being destroyed (that being the plot of EP)

-Tatsuya, autistic motorcycle man, loves his friends too much. As a result, he remembers the old timeline, and now, it's up to New People to prevent the EP timeline hurtling into an apocalypse

-New People feature: Maya Amano (not dead), Ulala 'I sell lingerie and punch dudes' Serizawa, two (2) Copyright Free Gendo Ikaris, and a character from the original Persona (yes, the one where there's a Japanese character who got made black in the botched localisation. Sorry, Masao/Mark)

-Copyright Free Gendo Ikari #1 is Katsuya Suou. He's Autistic Motorcycle Man's older brother, has a stick up his arse (to quote one fic), and acts nothing like Gendo – just looks like him on a budget. He has a cat allergy. He's a homicide detective. He wanted to be a pastry chef. (My heart is in tiny pieces—)

-Copyright Free Gendo Ikari #2 is Baofu. He looks nothing like Gendo, but is as smug and as scheming.

-Both Copyright Free Gendos wear sunglasses at night. They hate each other btw

-EP also features Anna Yoshizawa, a sane lesbian, and Noriko, an insane lesbian

-Tatsuya's memories get yeeted at the end of EP, and it's the only case of amnesia in media where it actually feels like a well-earned relief, rather than a cheap plot device

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littledrummeraussie · 1 year ago

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tell me all the things that you couldn't before.

masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: brief mentions of sex. a nightmare. hurt/comfort. lots of loving for Ashton. badboy!mechanic!Ashton AU.

word count: 5435

author’s note: This fic was written back in January, 2020, as part of the infamous A Permanent Chase fic, which I'm not sure will ever see the light of day as it only lives in my head and my heart.

The original concept is the following (to help you understand the fic better):

Ashton (in the beginning appearing as Fletcher) comes back to Sydney, where he starts working at Calum's garage as a mechanic. Shortly after this he meets our girl and starts to pursue her. They do start dating, but after some complications happen, and she finds out Fletcher is not the person he tells people he is, but someone else (Ashton), and she quickly breaks things up between them.

What she doesn't realize is that she and Ashton have met before, just after graduation at a beach party, where they fell in love for a night, but never saw each other again. Ashton does recognize the girl, but she doesn't recognize him for a long time, until finally Ashton does tell her the truth about their past.

The story is a mess - the original idea included gangs and street racing in which Ashton also partakes, lots of chasing after the girl in different places and scenarios, who eventually starts to put together how Ashton really loves her and actually wants to protect her from things happening around the city. (This is a huge reason why I never really worked on the story - I couldn't decide on anything, so it's just a big mess.)

They eventually make up and finally kiss at another beach party (full circle), and decide that they want to start a relationship with each other. There are lot of added stories to them in my mind, all of them following the main story above.

I also realized over the years that in some ways they are kinda toxic, but I cannot help it, I love my babies so much. So if you have any additional questions, please feel free to ask them.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

-----

It was well past midnight when you realized that there was something out of the ordinary. At first everything seemed to be normal, your night started like any other: you stopped by the garage after work, parking your car just outside the building and greeted the boys who were still working there. You’ve convinced Ashton to finish early, making Calum close up for the night, and dragged your boyfriend up the stairs to his flat.

He was in a really good mood, and with a cheeky grin he pulled you into the shower with himself. His hands were searching and grabbing at whatever body parts they could reach, and after he’d promised you the best fuck of your life, Ashton picked you up to cross the tiny apartment to his bedroom, where he made good on his promise. You were lying in a tangled mass afterwards, watching the last rays of sunshine peeking through the window, painting Sydney in the most beautiful shades of pink, orange and yellow.

You were ready to make some dinner, but Ashton preferred cuddle time, and held you close to his side while he ordered Thai food from one of his favourite places. You spent the time kissing and talking about your day until the guy arrived with your order, and you ate in comfortable silence in the kitchen, playing footsie all through dinner. Usually this was the time when you went out to have fun around town, or just lay on the couch, watching the TV mindlessly, but the last few weeks have been different.

Since you’ve decided to take up some courses to help you with your work, it meant that eventually you needed to take exams on them as well. You had your doubts when you first approached Ash with the idea, but he was supportive, and in his own way, he helped you with your studying and papers. It usually meant buying you coffee or letting you rant about your problems – or ordering food when he thought you could use the extra time. And his apartment was much quieter than your noisy neighbourhood. He did not mind you staying over if it meant cuddles, food sharing and sex – all three of those happened regularly, so he did not complain.

You have already started revising notes when Ashton came up to you and gave a kiss on your neck. You leaned back against his chest, looking up at him with a smile.

“You’re going to bed?”

“Yeah, I promised Calum that I will open in the morning, since someone decided to drag me away early,” he leaned forward to press another kiss on your forehead, his red locks falling over your face. “And I don’t want to keep you away from your notes and books, which are clearly more interesting than your own boyfriend.”

“How tragic,” you laughed, turning around on the kitchen chair to wrap your arms around him. “Please file a complaint, and I will talk to the management.”

“And what will I get as a consolation prize?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Blowjobs.”

“Oh, plural? That doesn’t sound so bad,” Ashton grinned at you, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “When can I start collecting them?”

“You know how offices work – it might take a few weeks to get an answer,” you bit your lip to hide a smile, and Ash just huffed at you.

“If it was up to you, I wouldn’t get my blowjobs for the next 30 days or so,” his fingers found a way into your tied up hair, slowly pulling out strands and combing them back into an even messier bun. “Any way to file a complaint about filing complaints?”

“I might know someone who can help you,” you tilted your head forward, pressing a small kiss on the skin of his stomach, then quickly blew a raspberry on it. “But only during opening hours.”

“You are terrible,” he laughed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your lips. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your notes.”

“Don’t hog the blankets,” you poked his side, and Ash laughed again, pushing your hand away. “Good night, Cardinal.”

“Is that a joke on my hair?”

“You tell me,” you winked at him, and he leaned back to give you another kiss.

“Good night, you monster.”

* * *

You knew something was up when you heard noises from the bedroom. The flat was really small, with no actual doors between the bedroom, the living area and the kitchen, and at first you thought the all-nighters you pulled would bother Ashton and he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the light on in the kitchen. But he was a heavy sleeper, still and calm, and the only thing that ever broke the silence was his light snoring. But not tonight.

The first thing you heard were the rustling sheets, a pillow thumping down onto the floor, the bed creaking under his weight. There was a loud gasp, more rustling, something hitting the nightstand or the bed frame, then another loud thump on the mattress. More gasps, more heavy breathing – you could hear the panic in the way he was trying to catch his breath, choking on air, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs.

You pushed yourself out of the chair, running to the small bedroom to check on Ashton. He was tangled up in the sheets, body twisting around as he tried to kick off the covers, thrashing in his blanket prison. His arms were swinging, trying to grab onto something (or someone), hitting the pillows and the bed with every move. He pushed his head back into the pillow, turning it left and right as he was panting, his Adam’s apple moving almost in a frantic, panicked way.

He was no stranger to nightmares – when he was exhausted or just had a bad day, he would go to bed early, resting his head on your stomach, hugging your body close to him like a pillow, and that usually did the trick. He slept soundly and without interruption. But sometimes he was just so lost in his own head that he forgot about it all, not caring about the dreams sneaking into his sleepy mind, and he usually woke with a start in the middle of the night. He would curl his body around yours, telling you that he’s okay, he just had a bad dream, he will fall back to sleep soon – he only ever asked you to hold his hand during these moments.

But tonight was different, Ashton never had a nightmare like this, one that physically shook him. He was fighting so hard to wake up, but nothing seemed to work. You dropped onto the mattress, climbing closer, and grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking him with all the strength that you had.

“Ashton! Ashton, wake up! Ash! Wake up!”

Suddenly he bolted up, eyes wide open, staring at the wall and taking in a lungful of air, making himself dizzy in the process. You shifted closer, climbing between his legs, and wrapped your arms around his trembling body. You held him close, running your fingers over his back, murmuring soft words into his ear as he buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart.

“I’m here, Ash, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He locked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, never loosening his grip on you. You ran your hand up to his shoulder, lightly massaging his tense muscles, caressing his neck, brushing your fingers over his hair. His skin was cold and sweaty, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His breathing was slowing, and you moved your head to press a small kiss on his temple. He tensed for a second, but then melted into your arms once again.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, still stroking the red locks at the back of his head. “It’s over. It was just a dream, it’s over. I’m here. You’re awake. It’s okay.”

His breath was hot on your neck as he inhaled deeply, nuzzling his face back into your skin. His muscles were slowly relaxing, but he was still tense and sweaty, and a shiver ran through his body. He tried to burrow closer to get more of your warmth, and you let him stay in your arms like this for a few more minutes. When you could feel he was a bit more relaxed, you pulled back a little, lifting his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and it took him a few seconds to get out of his daze.

Ashton’s gaze skipped over yours, instead focusing on the chain hanging from your neck. The silver ring he gave you almost a year ago was hooked on a thin necklace, the weight of the metal resting between your breasts, a comfort you never knew you needed. You still remembered the time when he wore it on his finger, playing with it whenever he started getting nervous. He called it a good luck charm, something he desperately needed while he was chasing after you. But once he got hold of your heart, he gave it to you – since then it became something much more than just a piece of jewellery. For you: a reminder; for others: a warning.

His clumsy fingers wrapped around the ring, slightly tugging on it. You slowly tilted his head up again, trying to catch his eyes. His hazel ones finally found your gaze, and you gave him a small smile, lightly running your fingers over his stubbly jaw.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

Silence, then a nod.

“How about you go and take a shower? Get warmed up,” you rubbed his arms, trying to warm his still cold skin. “And I will change the sheets.”

Another nod.

Ash let go of your necklace, slowly peeling himself out of the bed, starting to go to the bathroom, then stopped, looked back at you. You gave him another encouraging smile, nodded at him that it’s okay, you both will be fine, after which he finally made his way out of the room. When the lock clicked and the shower started up, you let out a breath you were holding back. A thousand questions were running through your mind, but you didn’t want to take too much time thinking about them. You wanted to make sure Ashton was comfortable after his nightmare, that he can come back and relax into the bed, wrapped in your arms, and sleep off this horrible experience.

You started stripping off the sweat soaked sheets, pulling out a fresh set from the drawer, working methodically in changing them. After that you opened the window, letting in fresh air, the slight breeze clearing away the remaining shadows from the room. You reached into another drawer, choosing a soft pair of sweatpants for Ashton, and finally went to the kitchen, making tea, waiting for him to finish up.

The lock on the bathroom door clicked, and it opened with a slight squeak. Ash stood behind the door, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping on the tiles from his red hair. You stepped to him, holding the pants out for him. He took them from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours as he did, and that made him look at you.

“I made you tea,” you nodded towards the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. “If you want some.”

“Thanks,” his voice was quiet and small, and he coughed a little to make his throat work. “I– I’ll be there.”

“Take your time.”

You stepped back to the kitchen, piling up your books and notes to shove them to the corner of the table. You knew there was no way you would go back to studying, not tonight. Any exam could wait – Ashton needed you now.

After a few more minutes he emerged from the bathroom, shuffling to the kitchen, and dropped down onto the chair next to you. He sighed deeply, then leaned forward, resting both his arms on the table, and put his head down on them, hiding his face. You watched him, how his back moved as he was breathing in and out. His muscles were still tense, you could see it from the way he was holding himself. You scooted a bit closer, and slowly put your hand on his elbow, a tentative touch. When he did not flinch away, you started to lightly rub his arm, up to his shoulder, down on his back, then back up again.

When you reached the back of his neck, Ash moved his head to the side, looking at you as you stroked his drying locks with your fingers. His hazel eyes were searching you as you were working through the tangled ends, brushing them back from his face. He let out another small sigh when you touched his face, caressing his cheek, which made him nuzzle into your hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, resting your hand back on his arm.

Ashton looked at you for another second, then hid his face back in the crook of his elbow. You waited for him, you knew he needed time to work through the thoughts in his head, to decide if he wanted to face them again. He slowly pushed himself up, reaching for the mug in front of him, taking a sip of his cooling tea. His fingers were running over the rim, circling it mindlessly as he focused on something in front of him.

“You… left me.”

There was silence in the kitchen – his words left you speechless. It sounded silly at first; you knew how you felt about him, how first his attention was unusual, almost uncomfortable at times, and that you wished he would give you just an ounce of space; how you started to miss him when he wasn’t around, how you watched over your shoulder if he would appear somehow, stalk behind you, keeping his distance, but never taking his eyes off of you. You knew he had his reasons to do so, and you learned to love him for that – it wasn’t so hard, he found a way to your heart, and you willingly let him in. You never wanted to let go of him ever again.

“I have no intention in doing that,” you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it. “And no reason.”

“But what if you do?” he whispered, pulling his hand away. “What if you find one?”

“Ash… is this something you’ve been… thinking about lately?” you asked softly, your fingers going up to your necklace, running them over the ring.

He did not answer; his eyes were still trained on the same spot as before. He was drumming on the tabletop, the rhythm getting more and more frantic and complicated. You desperately wanted to reach out and stop him, to make him look at you, to let him know you were there, you were listening, that you wanted to understand. But it seemed he was lost in his own thoughts – thoughts that brought out a nightmare that clearly shook him to the core.

“Ashton,” you said in a small voice. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

Those words made him look at you. Those words were his words, begging you to give him another chance, to make up for the mistakes he made when you met again. They were Ashton’s words, not Fletcher’s; they made you stop in your tracks, made you listen to him. They broke you in a way you’ve known you will never be broken again. That was the first time you’ve really let him into your heart, and you never wanted him to leave.

Ash sighed deeply, slowly turning around in his chair to face you, though his head was down. His fingers nervously twitched in his lap, and he started wringing his hands, looking for the rings he usually wore to play with. He once told you that sometimes he felt naked without them, and he liked wearing at least one to mindlessly spin it around, or take it off and put it back on. You moved a little closer, pushing your knees against his, slowing down his bouncing feet. Leaning forward you reached for him, pushing your fingers between his tightly clasped ones, and interlocked them. There was a slight shake to his hands, and you gently ran your thumb over his skin, trying to calm him again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed, slowly looking up at you from under his lashes. “I’m just… unsure.”

“Of me?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to see all of him. He just shook his head.

“Of myself,” Ashton answered, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. “If I’m good enough for you.”

“Of course you are,” you squeezed his fingers in yours, pushing your forehead against his. “You are my Ashton. How could you not be good enough for me?”

“That’s not what everyone else thinks,” he said with a humourless laugh. “People talk, all over town.”

“Some neighbourhood gossip won’t make me leave you,” you shook your head. “What could they tell me that I don’t already know? I know you, Ash, I know who you are.”

“You have the heart of an angel, and I’m the devil who’s holding you back,” he whispered, tilting his head down.

“Maybe I’ve had enough of heaven,” your hand went to his jaw, slowly tipping his chin up to look back at you. “If hell is where you are, then I’m packing all of my bags to be with you.”

“Y/N…”

“Or maybe they have it the wrong way around,” you continued. “Cause you definitely feel like heaven to me. Maybe it’s not their definition of the place. But screw them – my heaven is all tattooed up and gorgeous.”

A blush coloured his cheek, and he moved closer to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his legs bracketing yours. You were tangled up in each other, silently sitting in the kitchen for a few minutes, Ashton’s hand on your thighs while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Then he slowly pulled back, rubbing his eyes – was it tears, or sleep, you didn’t know – and looked back at you again.

“Your parents still hate me,” he added, resting his elbow on the table, leaning his head against his hand.

“They hate everyone,” you answered with a shrug. “They even hate me. That’s not an accomplishment.”

“I’m sure they would prefer anyone else over me,” he searched you with his eyes. “Someone who can give you a real future.”

“What do you think, what does a girl need?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, and it was his turn to shrug.

“Financial security?” he asked, and when you rolled your eyes at him, he continued. “Someone like that guy you work with – what’s his name? Liam?”

“A suit and tie?” you shook your head, putting your hands on his knees to lean closer. “Really, Ash? When I can have you, your jackets and chains, and the fire red Mustang? Well, tough luck, because you’re stuck with me for good.”

“But am I enough for you?” Ashton sighed, reaching for you and holding your face in his hands, making you really look at each other. “I wanna give you the world. Hell, I wanna give you the galaxy. The universe. But I’m just this guy, fixing cars and running my mouth at people. And you… you’re smart and beautiful and could get anyone you set your eyes on.”

“And that’s you,” you nuzzled your face against his hand, looking at him pleadingly. “You’re the only one I want.”

“What if Liam asked you on a date? Or one of the guys at that course? What if you get along so much that you realize that you could just… do better than me?” his gaze slipped down to the ring resting against your chest, saying the next words looking at it. “You know I would do anything for you… but I know I can’t keep you forever.”

“Ash, how long have we known each other?” you asked, reaching for him, brushing his hair behind his ear.

“7 or 8 years. Dunno. Why is that important now?” he sighed, shaking his head.

“What do you think… how many guys did I date during that time?” you questioned him, but did not wait for an answer. “Only two. And you wanna know their names?”

“Please don’t kick me when I’m already down,” he whispered, but you’ve had enough.

“They are Fletcher and Ashton. They are you, Ash. I might have had a few flings and one night stands, and sure, I went on a few dates with guys. But it was only ever you I had a real thing with. It was only you who was ever good enough for me.”

“Then why did you even go on those dates if you didn’t want anything from them?” the question left Ashton before he could stop himself, and you could see him flinch when he realized what he’d said.

“I wanted to know how I felt about other people. I wanted to give myself a chance, see how we could work out. You know – if you never try, you’ll never know,” you shrugged a little while reaching for his hand, slowly interlocking your fingers with his. “And I– I think I wanted to know how you would react.”

“Remember the hole in the wall?” he quirked an eyebrow at you, and you needed to stifle a laugh.

“I was always waiting for you to show up during your dates,” you confessed, squeezing his hand in yours. “You know, just crash them. I wanted you to crash them. I know it took me a long time to let you in…”

“Well, half the time you were mad at me,” he said, leaning closer and resting his forehead against yours. “For one reason, or the other.”

“And in the other half I desperately wanted you to kiss me,” you finished, nuzzling your nose to his.

“You know I would have done it in a second,” he breathed. “I wanted to walk up to every single one of those guys and tell them that you’re… that you’re…”

“Come on,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Say it.”

“Mine.”

“Don’t think I was never asked on dates at my job or at school,” you gazed at him while saying the next part. “I was, numerous times. You know what I say to them when they call me pretty? Thank you, my boyfriend thinks so too. Or when they invite me for coffee? Thanks, but Ash is already bringing me some. And when they don’t want to let it go, I say: trust me, you do not want to meet him.”

“Are you really saying those things?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“I’m also implying that I’m having the best sex of my life, and I don’t plan on giving up on that,” you finished with a smile.

A moment later Ashton started laughing – it was his first real laugh of the night, and he hid his face, trying to stifle his giggles. It was the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Suddenly the night wasn’t that dark, but instead everything seemed to start to glow a little bit. It was Ashton’s smile, shining through the blacks, dark blues and grays of the night, warming up the chilling air around you, shifting everything back to your usual teasing, but loving normal, the one you’ve built up together.

“I love your smile,” you whispered when he finally looked back at you, still trying to catch his breath. “I know I’ve always told you that you should wipe that grin off of your face, but god, I’m happy you never did. I just… there are so many things I just love about you that I’ve thought I hated before. Like your snake tattoo, or your loud car and obnoxious sunglasses… your terrible jokes and sexual innuendos, and how you never fail to say them at the worst times… I love your stupid red hair, and…”

“My hair is not stupid,” Ash mumbled, a smile still playing at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching once again for him to brush your fingers through his red locks. “No, it’s not.”

Ash nuzzled closer, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the caresses and light tugs on his hair, making a small noise that almost sounded like purring. He turned his head, brushing his lips against your wrist as you wrapped a curl around your finger, pushing it behind his ear, stroking your hand down his cheek and jaw. Hazel eyes followed the movement of your fingers until you ran your thumb over his chin, and his gaze finally found yours.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked him softly, pulling back a little to see his face.

“Are you asking for permission?” there was another small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and a slight blush coloured his cheeks.

“Just checking if you are in the right headspace,” you returned his smile, and he nodded shortly.

“I would love that.”

Without a second thought you leaned forward, one of your hands sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other one cradling his jaw, tilting his head a little to the side. His breath was hot on your face as you moved closer, cheeks and noses brushing, lips slowly pressing against each other – one soft, the other slightly chapped. You kissed his bottom lip, moving to the top, nuzzling closer and closer, until he opened his mouth and let you kiss him deeper, brushing his tongue against yours as you both tasted the other. Ash made a needy little sound as you nipped on his lips and kissed his chin, his jaw, brushing against his cheek as you nudged your nose against the soft skin behind his ear.

“I chose you, Ashton. I’ve been choosing you every single day since that night on the beach, and I’ll do it as long as you let me. I’m freakin’ in love with you if that hasn't been clear before,” you breathed softly, kissing the shell of his ear. “You’ve been on my mind for the last 8 years, and if that’s not love, then you have to find a better word for me, because I’m failing here, and you know I’m good with words. But you just have this effect on you where I completely lose my sanity, and I would gladly give up on it forever, if it meant I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Ash reached for you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you out of your chair, and sitting you on his lap. His hand rested on your thigh, keeping you close to his body, as his fingers ran through your hair, guiding your face to his again. It was his turn to kiss you, and he started with the softest of touches, just to feel each other’s breath on your lips, the warmness of the other’s skin, the shiver running through you when you’ve finally lost your patience. Noses and lips pushed together, and he kissed you deeply, tongue brushing against yours as you were holding onto his shoulders. His scent clouded your mind, his touch burnt your skin, and you never wanted this moment to end.

“I love you,” Ash pulled away just enough to brush his lips against yours as he spoke. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You pressed another kiss on his temple, cuddling closer in his lap to feel as much of his skin as you could. His arms wrapped around you more strongly, and he rested his head on your shoulder, pushing his face into your neck. For a few minutes you’ve stayed like this – slow caresses on waists and backs, fingers brushing over hair and tattoos, lips leaving small kisses wherever they could.

“Come on,” you ran your thumb over Ashton’s cheek. “I think it’s time we go back to bed.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to keep you away from your studying,” he started apologizing, but you shook your head, smiling at him.

“Screw exams. You’ll always be my first priority,” you tugged a little on his hair, tilting his head up towards you. “How does that sound to you?”

“Like something I’ve always wanted from you,” Ash returned your smile, then reached for your hand to kiss your knuckles. “Thank you, beautiful.”

You climbed down from his lap and reached for him to pull him up from the chair. You made our way back to the bedroom where the sheets were freshly changed and the pillows fluffed up just as Ashton liked it. He hesitated for a moment – the nightmare was still fresh in his mind, and even after you’ve talked through everything, he was still a little bit shaken from it.

“It’s alright,” you leaned against his side, pressing a kiss on the tattoo on his arm. “I’m here now.”

“I’m– scared to fall back to sleep,” he admitted, then sighed deeply. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No, Ash. It’s perfectly normal,” you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t ever feel ashamed, especially not because of your dreams. You’re human, it’s okay to fall sometimes. I’ll always be here to pick you up.”

“How did I get so lucky?” he turned to you, gathering you in his arms for a hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“Must have been that lucky charm of yours,” you answered with a smile, feeling the ring resting between your bodies.

“You are my lucky charm,” Ashton whispered, brushing the hair back from your face.

“Well, then you should definitely hold onto me.”

He huffed at you with a smile, shaking his head. You pulled him down on the bed, both of you getting comfortable under the blankets – Ash scooted as close to you as he could, nuzzling his face between your head and shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him rest his weight on you, running your fingers through his hair.

“You smell so good,” he mumbled against your skin, pushing his nose to your pulse point. “Am I not too heavy?”

“You’re perfect where you are,” you continued brushing your fingers over his curls, skimming them over the back of his neck, down his shoulders, then back up again. “How are you feeling?”

“Like maybe I will be able to fall asleep,” he breathed, then reached for the ring hanging from your neck. “Is it okay if I stay like this?”

“Your peace of mind is worth every numb limb and hours spent awake,” you kissed his forehead, then the hand holding onto the ring. “You would do the same for me. And just so you know, you make an excellent pillow.”

“You too,” he closed his eyes, resting his hand back on your side, cuddling close. “Will you… will you hold my hand? Please?”

Without another word you slid your fingers against his, interlocking them. He squeezed your hand in return, letting out one last sigh as he slowly let go of all the tension that kept him awake. His body melted against yours, muscles relaxing as his breathing evened out, and in a few minutes all you could feel was his light snoring tickling your neck. You brushed your fingers through his hair again, pressing one last goodnight kiss on his forehead before resting back against your pillows.

Ashton slept soundly in your arms, head resting on your shoulder, arm thrown over your waist, fingers interlocked on the bed. He fit perfectly against you, his weight all the comfort you needed in your life. You would have stayed up all night just to make sure he had no more nightmares, but his soft sleepy sounds slowly lulled you to sleep too. The last thing you remembered was his lips brushing against your neck as he shuffled in his sleep, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face. You knew for sure he was your forever – and you planned on reminding him of that every single day for the rest of your lives. Even if it meant chasing away his nightmares every night. Because he was worth it.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin fanfic #afic: a permanent chase #series: a permanent chase #ashton irwin fanfiction #fiction time

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