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starcrossed-lov3rz · 3 months ago

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The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 12

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.3K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

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Your alarm jerks you awake, and you blindly reach out to find your phone and turn it off. A yelp leaves your lips as you feel someone roll on top of you and throw the now silenced phone across the room.

“Daemon,” you whine, voice raspy from sleep, “what the fuck?”

He sits back, his thighs caging your body in. “What in the hells was that noise?”

“It was my alarm,” you rub at your eyes in an effort to wake up. “I really didn’t want to waste today.”

You push at Daemon’s chest in an effort to get him to let you up, but your husband doesn’t budge at all. “My love, as much as I want to explore your world more and try this ‘pizza’ again, our wife is probably worried sick.”

“I’ll get her a fucking t-shirt then, I want to have a nice latte and give my vibrator one last ‘hurrah’ before I go back to the dark ages-LITERALLY.”

Daemon slings a leg over, standing up to dig out the clothes you had bought for him yesterday. He shuddered as he pulled on the monstrosity you referred to as ‘cargo shorts’ when you bought them as punishment for his comments about modern attire for women.

You smirk as you get dressed. As much as you love your husband, there was something so vindicating about making him dress a little silly. If he had some much to say about jean shorts and crop tops, then he could dress like a dad going to Disney. “You look ravishing,” you tease. Digging through your closet, you slipped on a sundress. Today was going to be a little bit of shopping for the kids and Nyra, as well as working your way through some foods you needed Daemon to try.

Daemon slid on his plain tshirt (you had saved the “Dad of the Year” shirt to give him when you returned). “I look ridiculous,” he complained, “do all men here insist on showing their legs? I don’t like it.”

You snort out a laugh, doing your best to keep it in. Daemon’s eyes narrowed, and he stalked over. His one hand gripped the waist of your sundress, pulling you towards him as the other slipped under. The hem of the dress hiked up as his palm stopped to squeeze your asscheek. “Laugh as much as you like, my love,” Daemon purred, “but I promise I will make you pay for every single joke.” Your laughter dies, replaced by a short moan as Daemon lays a light spank across your asscheek.

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to make each one count,” you say, winding your hands through his hair. You gently pull at his hair, leaning in to kiss and nibble at his throat. His moan vibrates against you as you kiss up his jawline to his ear. You gently bite at the lobe before pulling away and grinning. “As much as I want to get those shorts right back off, I promised you a fun day in my world.”

“I assure you, my love, it is no hardship to stay inside today.”

You drag Daemon out of the apartment, slipping your hand in the crook of his elbow. “I can’t wait for you to meet my ride, Glenda.”

“You have a horse?”

“Kinda,” you laugh as you lead Daemon to your garage. “I don’t know how much horsepower she gets, but she’s my baby.” You click the lock button and listen for your car. There she is…right where you left her. “She’s not as fun as Caraxes, but she’ll get us where we need to go. She’s probably cheaper to feed too.”

Daemon eyes the Prius warily. “Where is the saddle?”

“Inside,” you say, urging Daemon forward.

“You want me to go inside that beast?!” he hissed. “You’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, unlocking the doors and opening his. “Come on, I’ll let you be passenger princess this time.”

After quite a bit of convincing, you manage to get Daemon in the car and buckled in. He was heavily opposed to the seatbelt, but after a long lecture about road safety, he put it on just to get you to stop lecturing. You rolled down the windows so he could lean out and watch the buildings fly past.

You pulled into the parking lot of a local coffee shop, helping Daemon figure out the release mechanism on his seatbelt. “Would you like something sweet or bitter?” you asked, unsure whether or not he would be familiar with half of the drinks and pastries here.

“I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

“Thanks not an answer, but I love the enthusiasm,” you laughed, giving Daemon a peck on the cheek. You order an iced chai latte with a shot of espresso for yourself and the ‘drink of the month’ for Daemon. After asking the cashier for two warmed pastries, you pay and lead Daemon to a table in the back. He is looking around at all the decor-photos of the owner from 50 years ago, cookie jars, and a wall of postcards.

“Did someone paint all of these?” he asked, pointing towards the photos.

You shook your head, pulling out your phone. “They’re like paintings. You can use a camera or any device with a built in camera.” Turning your phone on selfie mode, you slide into the seat next to Daemon. You snap a pic as you kiss his cheek, and show him the screen. He hums, looking at the picture of you both.

“Nyra would love this,” he murmurs. “Can we bring her a camera?”

“I think we could pick up a polaroid and some film,” you muse. “There is no way to keep a phone alive back there, but a polaroid would work.”

The barista calls out your name and Daemon walks up to collect your order. You watch as he and the young barista go back and forth. “Hey, need any help there baby?” you ask, winding an arm around Daemon’s waist.

“The barmaid here was asking for my number-”

“I am so sorry!” the barista apologized, blushing. “I asked if he had a girlfriend and he said no so I-”

“I don’t-”

“He has a wife.”

You try your best not to laugh a little at the ridiculousness of it all as you take your drink and assure the barista there’s no issue. Daemon and you down your pastries while you try to explain the concept of democracy to a real life monarch.

“That sounds incredibly complicated.”

“I take it Nyra won’t be instituting one in Westeros,” you tease.

“As much as she loves you, not a chance.” Daemon snorts. He stands when you finish your food, offering you his arm. “But that idea for the orphanage reform is something she would love,” he says with a nudge. “Nyra knows you’re getting restless, and has been looking for projects you can head.”

“Really?” you ask excitedly. “You think she would let me?”

“For you? Of course,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Now, you promised me we could pick up some of these ‘legos’ for the kids.”

“Want to try your luck at driving?” you ask with a wicked grin.

“Not at all.”

NOTE: New chapter!!! I am SO SORRY for the lack of Nyra...I MISS HER TOO SO MUCH AND I'M BENDING SPACE AND TIME TO GET HER BC I MISS MY POOKIE/ANGEL!!!!! Anyway, pls enjoy some modern hijinks. Also if you're AT ALL interested in a Logan Howlette x Popstar!OC/Reader story.....I am posting chapter 3 soon (Me and the Devil). They start off disliking each other so YOU KNOW we are gonna have some fun banter. Also, currently writing and hope to have chapter 13 of TVSTT up in the next few days! ~ Lacie <33

Taglist: @syraxnyra , @avalyaaa , @angeliccss , @clocksonthewall79 , @sia2raw , @forma-lina , @lorarri , @imoonkiss , @ba6ysworld , @abaker74 , @different-tale-student , @beca2468 , @hnm-mika , @pendejalian , @lexasaurs634 , @jaydemon99 , @lovelyy-moonlight , @waitaminuteashh , @winterrnight , @malfoycassimalfoy , @ghostlyvoidydragon , @spacexdrago , @asgardian1023 , @madamevirgo , @ahyespubes , @cowboybaby2 , @sm3156 , @ashlatano7567 , @cheat2tea , @kmatrixx1130 , @jubilee40 , @dimue , @coolmantha921, @ynbutbetter , @macaulaytwins , @idk-idk-idk-idk23 , @lavender2ari, @the-brainr0tt , @kamarimartell , @bluecloudsworld , @anonymous989, @uniquecutie-puffs , @mimitoupe01, @ace-spades-1 , @urmomsgirlfriend1 , @insufferablelust , @lilsyl , @ella-rose45 , @essiexxz , @apollonshootafar , @myheartfollower, @baybaybear1 , @povofjustme , @ninasully, @snapedog

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#house of the dragon #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd s2 #hotd #hotd fic #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon x you #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x y/n #queen rhaenyra

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 4 months ago

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Chapter 2: What A Great Freakin’ Way To Start The Day

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

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

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy,

Word Count: 5.2K

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

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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The morning begins the same way it always does, with your neighbor Mike blasting "I Will Always Love You" in his apartment at exactly 8 am just as he had each day since you met two years ago. It was the only constant in your life, but at least you didn't have to use an alarm clock anymore. The sound of Mike belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs was enough to wake everyone in the whole building, including the people on the eighth floor, five stories above him.

But because Mike bought the super’s probably illegally made cologne and because the super was dating Mike’s mother, something that made you regret supe hearing very much, it never stopped despite the numerous complaints.

Then again it was Annie's favorite thing about sleeping over, she liked to scream the lyrics back at the wall and jump on your bed like a crazy banshee. Honestly you hoped that it would stop after Ben had pretended to be your boyfriend, that Mike would finally figure it out and give up.

Guess not.

You sit up in your bed, stretching your hands over your head while humming the chorus under your breath, but you were more of an ABBA fan. If Mike had decided to serenade you with "Take A Chance On Me" or even Aretha Franklin's "You're All I Need to Get By," you might have looked at him differently.

The memory of the dream of his mullet smothering you in your sleep momentarily passes over your mind, causing a shudder to travel down your spine. Or maybe not.

Your bedroom was similar to your living room, covered in plants. Trailing jasmine and bougainvillea blanketed the wall behind your bed in deep red and white, budding lavender, lilac, and honeysuckle sat in pots along the top of your dresser, and a blush colored rose bush, that never went out of bloom, stood proudly in the corner. The only difference was that there were two large piles of books almost as tall as your ceiling, some old some new, braced beside the rose bush like Roman columns. You kept trying to remember to buy a bookshelf, but each time you thought about going to pick one up, Butcher usually called and asked you to help out. Both piles were covered almost completely in pothos and more hung from the brick walls above your only window, that opened the floor length pale yellow curtains with a flick of your hand.

An annoyed purring sound greets your ears as the honeyed light from the now open window wisps over your covers. Bean, your cat, stalks up from the end of the bed, his yellowed eyes narrowed with annoyance at being woken up so early while his charcoal gray coat turns lighter in the brilliant sunlight. Last night he had been in your bedroom when you got home, which meant that he hadn't been around Ben when he came in.

A good thing, because Bean hated just about everyone except Butcher, which you thought was weird. But whenever Butcher dropped by to talk to you Bean always came over to look for rubs, while hissing at anyone who tried to interrupt them. Hughie was actually afraid of Bean, and because Bean was a cat he immediately picked up on this and purposely would jump on the couch next to Annie so Hughie couldn't sit there, Bean also followed after Hughie to the bathroom and waited outside the door to swipe at his ankles whenever he would come out.

But you didn't love him any less.

He puts his paw on your thigh lightly extending his claws to get your attention.

"Oh are you talking to me now?" You smile, rubbing him behind the ears. "I thought you were angry because I woke you up?"

He purrs and pushes his chunky gray head against your hand, but startles when the song switches to "My Heart Will Go On" which causes Mike's mother to join in to his karaoke session.

I'd move if my apartment wasn't so damn cheap.

"Maybe they should take the show on the road. Huh buddy?"

Bean purrs his response while pushing his head further into your hand.

His mom wasn't that bad of a singer, in fact, you thought that you remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between her and the super when she talked about a career as a cabaret singer a while ago.

"Come on, let's see if Gramps killed any of my plants." You smile down at your cat. "If he did I'm going to turn him into a tree."

Bean purrs in agreement.

You get out of bed, adjusting your shirt back down over your shorts before walking to the door with Bean following behind you. You step out into the cool hallway, with more enthusiasm than usual as you try to escape the butchering of the Titanic's soundtrack and collide into something warm and wet.

It takes you exactly seven seconds to realize that the warm, wet, thing that your face is currently stuck to, is in-fact Ben's chest, his shirtless chest. Why he's standing in the hallway outside your door, soaking wet and wearing a towel you have no idea. All you know is that your face is physically laying against the warm flesh of his pectoral muscles.

"Why are you NAKED?" You scream as you peel yourself off of him and turn your gaze away. Your face felt so warm that it was like you'd been standing in front of a volcano for too long and you were sure that you had blushed to the roots of your hair.

You'd only seen him without his shirt on once, when the door to his bedroom was cracked at the apartment he shared with the rest of the group. But it was from the back and you had been walking by to go to the bathroom, and you hadn't looked…

Well, you may have stopped for a second to admire the powerful muscles on his muscular back and maybe thought about waiting for him to turn around so you could see if the front was as good as the back… but you hadn't.

And he certainly hadn't been soaking wet then, and it made you hate him more now, because no one should look as good as he does soaking wet. You personally knew that you looked like a drowned poodle whenever you stepped out of the shower, but him? Soldier Boy looks like he just finished filming a shampoo commercial.

You could see it in your head, him standing under a crystal blue waterfall with the water splashing against weathered rocks before running through his soft brown hair, curving around his broad shoulders, down his toned stomach straight down to his-

NO. Not gonna go there. You could feel your skin heating in embarrassment, almost as if you thought he could read your mind.

"I'm not naked doll, I mean I could be if you wanted me to." He smirks as he hears your heartbeat begin to pick up and reaches for the end of his towel. The towel that was almost too small to wrap around his waist and left very little to the imagination.

"NO!" You shout holding up a hand to stop him, but again brush the front of his chest.

Fuck, you could zest a lemon on those abs.

"Are you sure?" Ben smiles wider, taking a step forward. He's so close that you can smell your grapefruit mint shampoo on him and feel the humidity and warmth of his body as he stands there. For some reason the fact that he used your shampoo, and smelled like your soap, made you feel warm and tingly. It was almost hypnotic. You hated how much you liked it. "Because you're turning that cute little red color you always do whenever I'm around, and your heartbeat is kinda fast."

"No. I don't." You grit your teeth together. "Why are you standing outside of my door naked?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you to come out." His hand presses against the doorway next to your head. "You know, I already took a shower, but if you wanted I'd be happy to get back in with you."

"No thanks. I don't need a shower and I wouldn't shower with you if it was the last shower on earth and I hadn't bathed in forty years." You purse your lips. "Oh right, that happened to you."

Ben frowns at your mention of his time in Russia. You didn't often tease him about being trapped in a lab, you knew that it was a sore spot for him. Plus you'd seen the footage of exactly what those doctors did to him and it was enough to make you want to book a one way ticket to Russia and personally show them what happened when a tree got shoved up your ass.

You open your mouth to apologize.

"I was going to ask if you have any other clothes here. Mine are still wet from last night." He raises an eyebrow, but the humor is gone from his eyes.

"Oh. Um. I can take a look." You turn and walk into your bedroom, trying not to feel awkward about bringing up the lab.

He was a jerk, but he didn't deserve a reminder of how shitty the last forty years have been.

Truthfully, you weren't sure if you had anything that would fit him. Ben was a lot bigger than you, taller and broader. You usually did wear things that were a little big for you, but you didn't think that Ben would fit in any of them.

Maybe I have something from when my brother was here last time.

Darren often dropped by when he was in the city visiting his friends or had a new "business" venture. The ones that never seemed to last and the friends that always seemed happy to spend the moan you "loaned" him for his "best idea yet" as he always phrased it. But he hadn't been by in at least a year.

"It's really green in here too." You hear Ben say under his breath.

You didn't think that he was going to follow you into your room, you thought he was going to stay in the hallway, but no, he had followed you. And he made the room feel even smaller than it was with his broad shoulders and over six foot stature.

The sunlight from the window glinted off his still wet chest and it made your throat uncomfortably tight. For the love of chocolate pudding, WHY does he look so good all the time?

"You can wait in the hall-"

"Wanted to see your bedroom." He smirks. "Though I think that you wanted to show it to me last night-"

You ignore him and turn back to your chest of drawers while Mike and his mother switch to "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. You wince as they begin.

"Do they always do that?" Ben asks.

"Yep. Since I moved in." You sigh, shuffling through your t-shirts.

"He's really got it bad Sweetheart. Maybe you should throw him a bone. Kinda seems like the poor guy needs to get some ass-"

"If it's any of your business- which it's not- I do not like him that way."

"Well they're a little loud." You feel Ben take a step closer to you. "But I bet you and I could give them a run for their money. We are in your bedroom after all, might as well make the most of it."

"I didn't know that you liked Karaoke. I'll keep that in mind for you 105th birthday party."

"What? No I meant-"

Bean purrs loudly from his position on your bed and you wait for the telltale sound of Ben shooing him away when Bean tries to puncture Ben's impenetrable skin with his claws, but it doesn't come.

You glance over your shoulder. Are you kidding me?

Bean is sitting on your white plush comforter, rubbing up against Ben's hand, purring while Ben scratches him behind the ears.

Traitor.

"Didn't know you had a cat." Ben says continuing to stroke his hand down Bean's spine, who stands up and turns so Ben can have a better angle.

"I didn't peg you for a cat person. Kinda ruins the whole all-American Man image you have going on."

He shrugs. "I like dogs more, but I don't hate cats. Usually they don't like me very much."

"I wonder why that is." You grumble watching Bean lean into Ben's hand again. "His name is Bean."

"Bean? Why?"

"Because when I got him I was trying to grow green beans in the linen closet and he would sit outside the door and screech until I gave him a green bean to play with."

"You were trying to grow green beans in the linen closet?"

"Yeah. Seemed like a good idea, but they like the bathroom more-" You finally find the oversized Led Zeppelin shirt your brother left the last time he crashed at your apartment and a pair of jeans. "A lot of my plants like the bathroom more actually."

"I was going to ask you why the bathroom floor and wall was squishy."

"It's moss. It thrives in humid environments." You hold out the clothes for him.

"Uh-huh." He frowns at the clothes for a minute. "So you're saying you wouldn't want a guy to serenade you like that?" Ben nods his head towards your bedroom wall, just as Mike and his mother begin to belt out the chorus. "Thought girls liked sappy shit."

"I'm not a fan of One Direction."

"Right. You like ABBA more." Ben turns towards your door to go back to the bathroom to change.

Shock momentarily spikes in your chest. "How did you know that?"

He freezes as if you caught him doing something bad, turning slightly towards you. "Um- well, you hum their songs a lot."

"When?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Whenever you're on stake outs. Sometimes when you're reading those files or waiting for Annie at the apartment." He shrugs. “When you were walking last night you were humming ‘Fernando.’"

He noticed that?

"How long exactly were you following me?"

"Long enough." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to keep me talking because you want me to change in here? Because I would be more than happy to drop this towel and show you what a real man looks like Sweetheart."

"Don't flatter yourself Gramps. If you drop that towel the only thing that'll happen is Bean will think you brought him a green bean to play with." You roll your eyes. "Now get out of my room. I have to change."

Ben begins to say something, but the vines hanging above the door push him out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

That felt good.

After you put on a white t-shirt, your favorite pair of jean overalls and your dark green converse, you make your way out into the living room. Ben is there, lounging on your couch like he owns it. He’s wearing the jeans and t-shirt you gave him, but you can't help but notice how the clothes are just a little too small for him. The way his muscles pull at the t-shirt, the way the jeans hug his thighs and butt-

He's getting way too comfortable here. You think to yourself to avoid the thought of how good he looks on your couch. How it almost feels natural that he's sitting here in your living room, inhabiting your space.

"So what's for breakfast doll face?" He leans his head back to gaze at you with a mischievous smile that makes a warm tingle travel down the length of your spine.

"Well, I'm going to have oatmeal and you're going to have whatever you want I guess?"

His eyes darken. "Whatever I want?"

"Calm down Gramps I meant that there's cereal in the cabinet." You roll your eyes to avoid thinking about the kiss last night and then thinking about how it felt for your body to be pressed against his in the hallway when you ran into him. Which inevitably leads back to the waterfall fantasy and-

No. No. Not going to do that. Not with him. He's just good at getting women into bed, he doesn't care about you. You think about how he remembered that you liked ABBA. That doesn't mean anything. He doesn't see me as anything more than a conquest and he probably remembered that because he's changing tactics and trying not to act like a creep.

“You’re not going to pour me a bowl?” His smirk pulls down in an attractive pout.

“I think it’s simple enough for your little brain to do.” You don’t turn around from the kitchen cabinets, grabbing a raspberry from the refrigerator and popping it in your mouth. For some reason you noticed that whatever you grew tasted better than anything you bought at the grocery store. You hoped that it didn’t mean that your powers supercharged whatever you grew and that it was actually radioactive or something.

Because that’s exactly what I need, to turn bright green.

“There’s nothing little about me doll.”

“Can’t you ever have a conversation with someone without it revolving around sex?” You grumble banging around in your cabinets to find your instant oatmeal.

It was a valid point and you were tired of getting whiplash every time Ben acted caring and then flipping back to horny manchild.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ben laughs. He stands from the couch and makes his way into your kitchen.

It was hard not to notice how small each room in your apartment looked with him in it. His head was only a foot below the ceiling, not to mention the kitchen was only composed of six cabinets, a small sink, a microwave shoved into a corner, a stove top, and a refrigerator that only came up to Ben’s shoulders. Your bathroom was worse, sometimes the shower was small even for you and you didn’t know how Ben fit in there.

He probably had to duck down to stand under the shower head.

And then as you thought that, the image of Ben standing under a waterfall comes creeping back, making the strawberry plant on top of the fridge, the raspberry vines, and the blackberry vines covering your refridgerator burst into bloom.

Thankfully Ben didn’t notice, because he was rooting through the white top cabinet in the corner for one of the cereal boxes.

I’d never hear the end of it if he saw that happen.

You glare at the plants in question, eyes shifting to a deep green as the flowers develop into fresh fruit to cover your slip.

Ben pulls out a box of Lucky Charms, but frowns at Lucky on the front cover, who is throwing a handful of marshmallow charms into the air around him.

Guess he's not a fan.

“If I’d known you were going to sleep on my couch I would have gotten Bran flakes and prunes for you.” You smirk as you pour water over the oats in the bowl before placing it in the microwave to cook. “I know people your age need that kind of thing sometimes. Gets the bowel moving.”

“Make fun of my age all you want.” Ben steps around you to grab the almost empty bottle of milk from your refrigerator. “One day you’ll be happy to find out just how experienced I am.”

“Keep dreaming.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “You’re all I dream about baby.”

You can feel his breath on the side of your neck from how close he is to you, the kitchen seems smaller than it ever has, and he leans forward, sensing your hesitation. One of his hands goes on the kitchen counter to your right, the other places the milk down and then braces on the counter to your left caging you against him.

“Do any of your lines actually work?” You say, throat tight.

“You’d be surprised.” He smirks wider, green eyes sliding up and down your body.

The air in the kitchen electrifies, something passing through the air between the two of you that makes you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest. His eyes are softer green now, reminding you of the color of fresh leaves on an oak tree in spring, bright, strong, and full of life. His body is pressed gently against yours, the strong muscles of his abdomen laying on your hips, muscular arms making sure that you don't walk away.

You try not to think again about how good he looks in your apartment, how calm and relaxed he seems when he’s away from Butcher and not wearing his uniform.

Standing here in your apartment, he looked normal, human. Sometimes it was hard to remember that you were, when you could do what you did, when you saw him get hit with a car and shove it away with one hand.

He was still ridiculously attractive, the kind of attractive that you’d read in romance novels and in classic Roman literature, the kind of beautiful that people wrote poetry about, the kind of ruggedly handsome that made smart girls stupid.

You were really feeling that last one. Because you were desperately trying to hold on to your dream of being with someone that understood every part of you, but Ben was making it hard.

It wasn’t that the idea of sleeping with him was terrible. It wasn’t. It was far from terrible it was the idea of having sex without feelings that you didn’t like. You didn’t want to sleep with him because you knew that he only saw you as something to be possessed not as an equal or someone he cared about. Soldier Boy only cared about himself, that was apparent.

He’s only interested in you because you haven’t given in. You think to yourself. It's all about the thrill of the chase, nothing else. I'm worth more than that. I'm worth more than one night.

“In fact, I think it’s working on you doll.” Ben leans down towards you so close you can feel his words in the air between your faces, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say no.

That made you pause. Ben didn’t seem to be the type of man who was patient. You’d walked in on him making out with numerous women on the couch back at the apartment he shared with the rest of the team, saw how he took control, saw how he didn’t seem to wait for them to say no or really say anything at all. Not to mention one time when you walked into the shared apartment and could hear Ben with one of his "dates" in his bedroom. Nothing about that seemed patient at all.

But this Ben standing in your kitchen was different. He was almost smiling, dark hair still damp from the shower curling on his forehead, the t-shirt damp around the collar, jeans a dark blue, and the smell of your shampoo fills your senses again all over again. It made you wish for this person all the time. The one that you could see yourself falling in love with, not the racist, sexist, and inappropriate jerk that seemed to dominate his persona at all other parts of the day.

Funny, the only time you’d ever seen Ben like this, was when the two of you were alone- well sometimes- other times he annoyed you without end and made you want to jump out a window.

But why? Why only around me?

The feeling in your chest grows. It jumps from synapse to synapse, pulses along your skin, buzzes in your blood, tangles through your hair, and radiates through the air like a sound wave. Your eyes drift down to his lips remembering exactly what it was like to kiss him last night. How he seemed to consume you whole, how everything else fell away, how Ben curled himself around you, how he-

Your cell phone rings, breaking through the moment, and making you remember exactly why you didn’t want to give in to Ben and remember the kind of person he was.

You push him away and pull your cellphone out of your pocket. Butcher's photo and name appear on the screen.

Shit.

"Hey Butch, what's up?" You look away from Ben, forcing yourself to calm your racing heart.

Ben perks up at the mention of Butcher’s name.

“Do you have any idea where Soldier Boy is?”

“Soldier Boy?”

“Seems like our blunt smoking man out of time has vanished. Been trying to text him all bloody morning.”

At least he doesn’t know that Ben is here. That’s good. I’d never hear the end of it if-

Ben snatches the phone from your hand and holds it up to his ear. “What the fuck do you want?”

The softness was gone, his eyes had hardened again, and the spell was broken. Ben was no longer relaxed, his shoulders were tensed and guarded, jaw set.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Ben didn’t like Butcher. Sometimes you wondered why Ben decided to stay.

Probably because the alternative was being frozen like Han Solo next to his son.

When Ben had knocked Homelander out, you hadn’t believed it, and despite Ben’s arguing Butcher wanted to keep Homelander a supe, and just put him on ice. You had no idea why, especially since Butcher had been gunning for him forever, but had the sneakiest suspicion that it was because of Ryan.

But you didn't blame Butcher for that, watching your father get killed in front of you seemed traumatic, not to mention Ryan was still reeling from watching his mother die.

You turn back to your microwave to pull out your bowl of oatmeal with a groan.

Now Butcher’s going to mock me endlessly about going home with Soldier Boy. We didn’t do anything! Well…

Your mind flits back to the searing kiss you shared and to five seconds ago when whatever the hell just happened.

“You want me to meet you in fucking Jersey?” Ben laughs.

You choose not to eavesdrop on the conversation, instead you busy yourself with sprinkling brown sugar onto your breakfast and plucking a few more raspberries from the vines.

“Fine.” Ben almost growls before holding out the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Of course he does. Maybe I can pretend to lose the signal with a piece of paper or a candy wrapper.

“Hello-“

“You crazy wanker.” Butcher chuckles into the phone. “Guess your night was a little more exciting than mine eh? Oi Hughie, you owe me a tener!” He shouts to Hughie who you can guess is sitting nearby.

“What? He’s with y/n! No way!” You hear Hughie shout back, muffled but there.

Damn it he’s gonna tell Annie. She's going to start sending me pictures of babies photoshopped in supe suits.

“You guys were betting that he was here?!” You shout making eye contact with Ben who only smirks before he busies himself with getting a bowl for his cereal.

“He left about two minutes after you did. Said some bullshit about a smoke break.” Butcher is smiling and you know it. “How was he? Was he as good as all the girls say?" Butcher coos on the other side of the line.

“Nothing happened-“

“Sure it didn’t Cherie!” You hear Frenchie crow. “Hopefully you got to relieve some of that tension no?”

“I hate all of you.” You grumble, and before Butcher can say anything else you hang up the phone and glare at Ben. “This is your fault.”

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“You just had to follow me home!”

“You shouldn’t have been walking out there alone.”

“I do it all the time!”

“Not anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not going to let you walk around alone in the middle of the night.”

"Like hell. I don't need a babysitter!"

"I think you do-"

"No I don't. In fact why are you still here? Why haven't you left?" You shout, snatching your bowl of oatmeal before moving to the wobbly kitchen table that you smooshed up against a window that looks out onto your fire escape.

"Because I tend to like morning sex. It's a great way to start the day. Thought you'd be interested." Ben winks as he sits across from you, barely fitting in the wooden chair.

Your phone buzzes where it sits on the table beside your bowl. When you flip it over, you see the text from Annie.

Annie: YOU SLEPT WITH SOLDIER BOY?!!!!

You: I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

Annie: That's a yes. TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!

You sigh and shovel a spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, eyes drifting up to the top of your phone screen focusing on the time.

"SHIT! I'm late for work!" You shout before shoving as much oatmeal as you can into your mouth.

"Work?" Ben looks up from his bowl of cereal confused as you begin to run around the room.

The half-eaten bowl of oatmeal falls into the sink with a resounding crash, Bean's cat food lands haphazardly in his bright green food dish, and you practically run to your tote bag that hangs on a peg by your front door.

"I told you. I work at a plant shop." You glance back at your barren coffee maker mournfully. The thought of trying to get through the day without coffee seemed impossible, not to mention you didn’t have time to grab one on the way to work from your favorite shop just around the corner.

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Some of us have to work for a living." You run your fingers through your hair quickly pulling it back in a loose ponytail.

"You should leave your hair down." Ben says from the table watching you.

"What?"

"It's prettier when it's down."

"I don't have time for your misogynistic comments. Come on let's go."

"What?"

"I'm not going to leave you here in my apartment alone. You don't have a key."

"You could give me yours-"

"HA. No that's not going to happen. Come on." You tug on his muscular arm, trying to get him up out of the chair, but he barely moves.

“You know you could call out of work and we could spend the day in bed.” He smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “I mean you look good baby, but I think you'd look even better naked. Plus, Butcher and the rest of those fuckers already think we slept together so we might as well-“

“Not a chance Gramps. Either get up out of the chair and leave through the door or leave through the window. It’s your choice and I have no qualms with throwing you down to the street. But please don't make me do that because I can't afford a new window."

Ben rolls his eyes, but finally gets up to follow you. He actually tries to open the door for you, but you place your hand on his chest.

“Nah uh uh. Bowl in the sink. I’m not going to clean up after you.”

Ben sighs and mumbles something under his breath that’s lost in Mike’s inhuman screech of “Love on Top.”

Yeah. What a great fucking way to start the day.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

(Photos for series picture found on Pinterest)

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#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fic #the boys amazon

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incognit0slut · 7 months ago

Note

COWBOY SPENCE! COWBOY SPENCE! WE WANT COWBOY SPENCE!

Fluff. Kind of a continuation to this but not really. 1.3k. Also thank you anon for bringing back my cowboy spence agenda.

Spencer gives you a ride on his horse to watch the sunset.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said the moment he saw you enter the stable. And he was right, visiting his ranch on a random Tuesday evening was the last thing you should be doing.

Emily had sent you to interview someone tied to the case, and you managed to gather more information about the Unsub, which you shared with her over the phone. But on your way back to the police station, you realized Spencer's ranch was just a half-hour drive away from town. So you turned the steering wheel, hoping your boss wouldn't notice your impulsive detour.

"Well, you're supposed to reply to my text," you shot back, the sound of your boots echoing on the ground.

He offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that, I got caught up today, haven’t had the chance to check my phone."

"I guess some things never change," you remarked as you approached him standing inside the horse arena, hopping up onto the fence. "Give me a kiss."

Spencer chuckled softly, gently patting Mildred's mane as he stepped around her, the beautiful white horse who seemed to acknowledge your presence with a subtle bow of her head. As he reached your side, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his touch sending a rush of warmth through you.

This was exactly why you had wanted to see him. The absence of his presence had left a void you hadn't realized until now and you groaned when he gently pulled away. His touch lingered as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his concern evident in his voice.

"Aren't you going to get into trouble?"

"Maybe," you admitted with a playful shrug. "But some things are worth the risk, don't you think?"

"Emily wouldn't be too happy about that," he pointed out.

"She can do just fine without me for an hour or two," you countered before your attention shifted towards Mildred. "Hey, Millie!"

He laughed. "Millie? You've only met her once and you already have a nickname for her?"

You flashed him a grin. "Well, she just looks like a Millie to me," you said, reaching out to stroke Mildred's soft mane. The horse nuzzled against your hand affectionately, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I think she likes her new name," he remarked. "Wanna take her out on a ride?"

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. "And break my back? I don't even know how to ride a horse."

"Come on, I'll ride with you," he insisted, leading Mildred towards the arena gate. With a quick hop, you jumped off the fence and caught up with him just as he stepped out of the gate, his horse following behind.

You hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flickering in your eyes as you looked up at him from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. "I don't think this is a good idea."

He met your gaze with a reassuring smile, his arm outstretched towards you. "You'll be fine, you trust me, right?"

His confidence was infectious, and despite your doubt, you found yourself nodding.

"Alright, let's do this," you said, placing your hand in his as he helped you onto Mildred's back. "Don't let go of me!"

"I won't," he said with a chuckle, and your foot stepped onto the stirrup as he steadied Mildred. With a deep breath, you swung your other leg over, settling onto the saddle.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice filled with excitement. But before you could answer, he smoothly mounted himself up and settled behind you, his presence comforting as Mildred began to move beneath you both.

"Holy shit," you couldn't help but mutter, feeling extremely conscious of sitting so high up on a horse. "This feels weird."

He moved his arms securely around you as he held onto the reins. "You're doing great," he said soothingly, his voice close to your ear. "Just take it easy, you'll get used to it in no time."

His words filled you with warmth, and you couldn't help but lean back against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. His arms around you gave a sense of security as Mildred carried you forward, and that was when you saw it, the vast expanse of his ranch unfolding before you.

The rolling hills, the sprawling fields, and the distant mountains dotted with trees and bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun painted a picturesque scene that took your breath away.

"Spencer Reid," you mused, your eyes tracing the landscape, watching a group of cattle running around at the side of the field. "You're rich rich."

He chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against your back. "I prefer to think of it as being fortunate."

"No wonder you don't want to work with us anymore."

"Honestly, there’s a part of me that doesn't want to leave all this behind," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "But it's not just about the ranch. Being here reminds me of the simpler things in life, the BAU can be... overwhelming at times."

You understood his sentiment, "I get that," you said softly. “I'm just glad you seem happier now."

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Spencer's lips as one of his arms circled your waist. "Thank you," he murmured. "I'm actually happier with you here."

Your giggle danced through the air and his smile widened at the sound. With a gentle squeeze around your waist, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Look at the view."

You followed his gaze, looking out in front of you just as he urged Mildred to stop. As the horse came to a halt, you found yourself gazing out at the breathtaking scenery spread out before you.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The rolling hills and sprawling fields seemed to stretch on endlessly, while in the distance, the mountains stood tall against the horizon.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, the awe evident in your voice as you took in the stunning view.

Spencer's arm tightened around your waist as he leaned in. "Very beautiful.”

Your smile widened as you fished your phone out of your pocket to capture the moment, but as you faced the camera towards the scenery, the screen showed the front camera instead. You both burst out laughing, but then you took the opportunity to lean back against him and angle the camera right in front of you.

Spencer smiled as you cupped his cheek with your free hand, his stubble rough against your palm, before you snapped the moment. You then examined the result, admiring the way he was leaning close to you, his bright hazel eyes sparkling with warmth, with the soft lines of his smile at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m changing this into my wallpaper now.”

His grin widened as you showed him the picture.

"I like the sound of that," he said, his eyes lingering on the image with fondness. Just then, there was a sudden notification on your screen and you exchanged a quick glance with him before opening the message.

Boss Woman: You better not be visiting Reid

Boss Woman: Oh who am I kidding? Of course you are. Say hi to him for me

Boss Woman: But get your ass back to the station right now

His laughter echoed behind you. "It’s like she has a sixth sense."

"I haven’t even told her about us yet," you replied, shaking your head in amusement. "Let's head back before she sends out a search party."

With a nudge from him, he turned Mildred around and guided her on the way back to the ranch. And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the landscape in a warm golden light, you knew that this was worth the trouble. You felt the gentle sway of the horse and you couldn't help but smile, placing a hand on the arm circling your waist.

You were definitely going to visit him again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #cowboy spence

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fallatyourfeet · 4 months ago

Text

Unbroken (Jon Snow x Reader -One shot)

Summary: Shortly after the Battle of the Bastards, Sansa discovers some unexpected news regarding YN. Jon is thrilled to hear you're alive, but unfortunately, the news is bitter sweet.

Word count: 3234 Sorry (This is a super long one shot for me, I usually try to keep them under 2000 words. But I guess this one got away form me)

Warnings: It's pretty dramatic and angsty. YN has been mistreated by Ramsay. I'm sure you know what that means!

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

A/N: This fic was a request from @automaticpandadreamer Hope you like it. God knows you've waited long enough

Hello I love your book Northern Light so musch I'm still reading it three years after discovering it. I was was wondering if you could do like a Jon Snow x reader who is from a warrior house that the Starks have known for a long time. Her house get attacked by the Boltons and Ramsy does....Vile things to her as his plaything and she helps Sansa and Theon escape but not before Ramsay lays a huge whipp across her back giving her a scar but after that she meets Jon and she is happy to see jon .

Jon assumed you were dead. It hurt to even think it, but surely Ramsay would never have allowed you to breathe another day, once you helped Sansa and Theon escape. Never for one moment, did he believe he would return to his childhood home, after all these years and hear Sansa speak the words. “She’s alive, Jon… YN’s alive.” Standing in the middle of the courtyard, his knuckles still covered in Ramsay’s blood, Jon found himself overwhelmed by the unexpected and welcomed news, his mind racing with cherished memories.

During his childhood, you were a regular visitor to Winterfell, accompanying your parents for feasts and celebrations and usually staying long after they returned to Bear Island. And they were some of his happiest memories. Wherever you were, Jon was never far behind. The two of you were all but inseparable.

You were not like other girls. Strong, fierce and surprisingly unpretentious for a highborn. Memories flooded back. Watching you shoot bow after bow perfectly into its target, while his fell uselessly to the ground. Could still remember how quickly you could saddle a horse then tease him playfully for being so slow. How many days had he spent sparring with you in that very courtyard? Snapping and splintering countless wooden swords trying to get the better of you, but you were far too quick for him. And how vividly he could recall Catelyn’s disapproving stares. Never knowing if it was the fact that, you, a trueborn lady of House Mormont was allowed to train as a warrior. Or the fact that you were allowed to train with him, a bastard. Maybe it was both. Or maybe it bothered her to know that you enjoyed his friendship, maybe even valued it above her own children. Whatever the issue, Jon refused to acknowledge it, even as a little child. He would not allow her disapproval to spoil his time with you.

And when you returned to Bear Island the letters began. Parchments covered from back to front in your handwritten script. Sharing your stories, hopes and dreams, filling the void between your infrequent visits. Miles and miles may have separated you, but those letters brought you closer than ever. You were his best friend. No. You weren’t. You were more than that. Much, much more. And up until now he thought he had lost you.

“Where is she?” Jon barely breathed the words, his voice caught with fragile hope… hope that he was not dreaming.

Sansa answered with hesitation, “The Maesters’ Turret.” And when Jon made a move to leave, she grabbed him by the arm, her eyes filled with concern for both YN and her brother. “She’s not in a good way, Jon.”

Jon was silent a moment, unsettled by his sister’s expression, “What do you mean… is she going to be okay?” He was eager to pull away, to see your face, but Sansa didn’t loosen her grip.

Looking across the courtyard Sansa took a breath, her eyes settling on the spot where less than an hour ago Ramsay laid in an unconscious mess beneath Jon’s fists. Turning back to her brother she replied, “Yes. She is going to be okay… but Ramsay he…” Sansa struggled to find the right words, “He has left his mark on her…”

Jon didn’t quite know what she meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. Pulling away from his sister, he wasted no further time, heading straight towards the maester’s turret. He needed to see YN with his own two eyes… needed to see her alive and breathing. Moving through the courtyard his eyes caught sight of Ramsay’s blood, his lips tightening into a hard line as his feet kicked through the crimson dirt. Part of him wishing his fists had drawn Ramsay’s final breath. That man… no… monster, did not deserve to live another day. And if both Sansa and YN didn’t want to take it away themselves, he was more than willing to do it for them

Reaching the turret Maester Wolkan greeted him, but Jon had no time for pleasantries, coming across rather abruptly to the new master of Winterfell, though Jon paid it no thought at all. “Lady YN, how is she… where is she?” Jon’s eyes searched behind him, seeing nothing but a dimly lit room and a shelving unit crowded with apothecary bottles.

Stepping outside the turret doorway Maester Wolkan closed the door behind him, speaking in hushed tones, confirmation that YN was inside. “Lord Snow, Lady Mormont is currently resting. I have given her milk of the poppy. Lord Ramsay he… he left her in a bad way… this time.”

Jon’s face contorted at the maester’s words, as if the sound of them physically hurt his ears. “What do you mean, this time… what did he do to her?” Jon asked with hesitation, not sure if he was equipped to hear the answer.

Maester Wolkan was a little surprised. Sansa had not long left to find Jon and inform him. Not realising he had given her little chance to explain before leaving her standing in the middle of the courtyard. The maester shifted apprehensively on his feet, not feeling threatened by the former Lord Commander, but rather ill at ease by the intensity of his concern. “Ah… Unfortunately, Lady YN has been here far too often these past months.” Taking a deep breath he continued, “Lord Bolton did not take kindly to her aiding Lady Sansa’s escape.”

Clearing his throat, he grew even more uncomfortable… how was he going to explain the extent of the torture inflicted upon this poor woman, when it was clear the man before him cared deeply for her. “It began with a single lashing the night Sansa escaped,” (leaving out the detail of how brutal that single lashing was; it tore her back wide open), “Ramsay would send her here every day so I could treat her wound, only for him to whip her again the very day it healed.”

Jon’s stomach churned, but he could tell the maester still had more to say. Trying to prepare himself for the next onslaught he took a deep breath, before Wolkan continued, “Every time I would heal her, he would whip her again… but last night, he… he could have killed her… I’ve never seen injuries like it.”

Burning rage twisted at Jon from deep within his core. This animal of a man had repeatedly defiled his sister, murdered Rickon before his very eyes and had been torturing the woman he loved, for months. Not even daring to imagine what other unspeakable things he probably inflicted upon her. Jon could barely think, he needed to see her. Stepping forward he reached for the cast iron latch, the urgency in his features alarming Wolkan, “I’m sorry Lord Snow, she needs to rest… please… come back tomorrow.”

Shaking his head, Jon replied, his hand already opening the door, “No Maester… I’m staying with her until she wakes… I’ll be quiet.”

Entering the turret, it was difficult to see, the room kept dark by heavy drapes drawn across the windows. And yet, immediately Jon felt some relief. He could hear you breathing. It was dry and raspy, but at least it was steady; it was strong. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim candlelight tucked away in the corner. But it was the glow of the hearth flickering around the stone walls that had the air twisting in his chest. It illuminated your form, the shadows rippling across blood-soaked bandages wrapped loosely around your torso. Resting on your stomach, you were so still, eyelids heavy with induced sleep, your hair pinned to the top of your head to keep from interfering with your injuries. The table beside you was a mess of strong-smelling ointments and bandages, while the discarded ones sat overflowing in a bucket underneath, soaked red with your blood.

A wooden chair sat in the corner, but it was not close enough, he needed to be beside you. Moving to grab it, he stopped short when he reached out and noticed his hands. They were covered in dried blood and mud, remnants of the battle that took place outside the castle walls just a few hours earlier. With a deep breath, he realised he needed to clean up just as Maester Wolkan walked in, clearly thinking the same thing.

With fresh towels under his arm and a jug of hot water in his hands, he looked to Jon, “If you’re going to stay, Lord Snow, you’ll need to clean up. Lady YN can’t afford to be exposed to any contaminants.” Putting them down on a table behind a screen, he added, “Your sister is bringing you up a fresh tunic.”

Nodding his head, Jon smiled softly, “Aye. I just realised that myself.” And no sooner had Jon disappeared behind the screen, came the quiet knock at the door announcing the delivery of his tunic.

Settled in the wooden chair beside you, Jon had time to think. The milk of the poppy had given you much needed hours of rest. He could tell you were heavily sedated because you barely murmured or moved when Maester Wolkan changed your dressings. And he thanked the gods. Never had he seen injuries like it. Any previous scarring left behind by Ramsay was indistinguishable, your poor back… it was… it, it didn’t look like a back at all. In the end he had to turn his head away, unable to imagine what anybody could have done to deserve such treatment, let alone you. Jon sighed heavily, if only he had arrived a few days earlier, then maybe he could have saved you the suffering.

Jon thought about everything that brought you to this very room, forever scarred. It was your loyalty to the Starks, his family. When Robb called his banners, you marched beside him into every battle, leaving him thinking you had died along with his brother at the ‘Red Wedding.’ But in the middle of his grief came some sunshine in the form of a letter. It was sealed in the familiar wax stamp of House Mormont and addressed to him in your beautiful script. Yet, clouds quickly swallowed up the sunshine when he took a moment to breathe, his heart sinking as quickly as it had soared. What if the letter had been sent before that fateful night at The Twins? Though his concern was short lived as his shaking hands unravelled the parchment. Your words making it clear that you were alive.

Dear Jon,

I’m sorry to be writing under such dark circumstances, wishing I could fill this page as I did when I was a carefree child, to fill it with stories born of joy and hope, and memories to make us smile, but life hasn’t followed our childhood dreams. Instead, we are faced with grim reality, leaving us feeling hollow and betrayed. Losing Robb at any time was going to be painful but losing him in the manner we did is incomprehensible. The betrayal and disloyalty that took place at The Twins that treasonous evening leaves me enraged.

Somehow, I was sparred. Sheer luck saved me, after leaving the hall just moments before they locked the door, managing to find my horse amongst the slaughter and escape. Our poor men stood no chance, murdered as they sat around fires drinking the very ale offered by their killers. It was an unforgivable and cowardly act that the North will never forget.

Now that I’m home, I pray for days that begin and end with no discernible events, but I fear harder times lie ahead, much harder than I can fathom. The number of Wildings reaching Bear Island increases every week. Not to raid, but to seek refuge, and the stories they bring keep me awake at night. As a brother of the Night’s Watch, I’m sure you’re no stranger to these stories and the fear I see in their eyes troubles me deeply.

Please know that I think of you often. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been receiving the news of your father’s death and then Robb’s while sworn to the Night’s Watch. Every day, I pray for the safe return of Arya, Bran and Rickon and hope Sansa finds protection under her new Lannister name.

Take care Jon. I will write again soon, hopefully bringing more light in these uncertain times.

Yours

And your letters continued. Just as you promised. Words reliving cherished memories, furnishing his thoughts with new stories, providing much needed smiles for trying times. Until your final letter arrived. It’s content still as fresh as the day he read it, ‘At first light I will be leaving Bear Island. The Baratheon Army is marching on Winterfell, and I intend to help them take it back from the Boltons.’ And that was the last he heard of you. Leaving him with no other conclusion, than believing you died alongside Stannis’ army when Ramsay defeated them in the Wolfswood. All until Sansa showed up at Castle Black and told him all you had done for her.

Jon had held no hope for your survival, sure that Ramsay would make you pay with your life. And yet, Jon had underestimated the cruelty of the beast, could not comprehend the lengths Ramsay would reach to punish your unyielding loyalty. Realising as he stared at the blood-soaked bandages which held your back together, that the sick monster had taken pleasure in the process. He enjoyed both the physical and mental damage he wreaked.

But here you were, still alive and fighting, defying Ramsay in the most determined and tenacious way. It was almost worth letting Ramsay survive if only to see you grow healthy and strong. To see you unbroken. To see the strength in your eyes as the life disappeared from his.

Pulling Jon from his darkening thoughts, came the soft whisper of his name, “Jon?”

How long had he been sitting there? Jon had no idea. Somewhere amongst his thoughts he must have fallen asleep, noticing the first light of dawn creeping in around the edges of the drapes. Announcing the arrival of a brand-new day.

Fully alert now Jon slid to the edge of his chair, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, reaching out he gently took your hand, his thumb running back and forth across your knuckles. “Yes, YN. It’s me.”

You winced, as you made a move to sit up, though you tried to hide it.

Wincing in sympathy Jon carefully brushed the hair from your eyes, responding tenderly, “Please, don’t move. Stay there. Maester Wolkan has already tried sending me away. He’s worried I won’t let you rest. Don’t give him an excuse to try it again.” Giving your hand a comforting squeeze, he leaned over, his face just a few inches from yours, his voice barely a breath from cracking, “It’s good to see you YN… I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, before…” Jon’s eyes betrayed him, involuntarily lingering on your back.

Cutting him short, your words were a little groggy, but clearly, your mind was not, “Hush Jon, it wouldn’t have mattered when you arrived. He was always going to react like this.”

Without thinking, Jon asked the question he never meant to ask, at least not for some time, “Why did he do it?” Upset with himself, he tried to take it back, “Sorry YN, I didn’t mean to ask, don’t answer, I don’t know why I- “.

Cutting him short again, you answered without hesitation or regret, “I provoked him when he said he was going to take pleasure watching the bastard of Winterfell die.” Anger flashed across your features as you recalled the moment, defiance rooted deeply in your voice, “I told him this battle would be his last… That you may be a bastard by name, but he is a true bastard in every other sense of the word.”

Jon thought he saw a smile touch your lips, not sure how you found amusement in your current condition, “He didn’t like it when I told him he was going to lose, that soon the flayed banners will be lying in the dirt where they belong.” You cleared your throat, the action causing you to wince again, “I can still see his rage, him waiting for an apology, for me to beg for my life… But I couldn’t… I just stared back… said, kill me if it makes you feel better… But it will not save you.”

Jon’s heart broke, his guilt intensifying. His lips started forming an apology, but you refused to let him speak the words, knowing exactly what was running through his mind. Despite your discomfort, you took your hand from his, reached for his cheek and spoke, “Stop Jon, don’t you dare apologise. It’s not your fault… he’s a monster. I don’t regret it and if I had the chance I would do it again.” Jon shook his head in disbelief, no one would willingly endure your suffering if they had the choice, but here you were speaking the words. Never had he been more in awe of you. “I would. I had control in that moment… I won the battle. He didn’t break me, Jon. He couldn’t. I wouldn’t let him. Not once… Not ever.”

Struggling to ignore the heavy lump forming in his throat, he swallowed thickly, forcing himself to remain strong, if only for you. “I don’t know how you did it, YN. You’re stronger than any woman I’ve ever known. Ramsay will pay… pay for everything he has done to you and Sansa. What you did for her, I can’t… I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Moving your hand from his cheek, you rested your head against the bed, taking his hand your expression softened, your beautiful eyes trying to disguise their pain. Tears gathered behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. With a deep breath, you somehow found the strength to smile, “Remember the blue lake I used to talk about when I was little. The volcanic one my father would take me to?”

Jon nodded, a soft smile warming his features, “Of course, you used to talk about it all the time.” Pink touched his cheeks when he recalled, “I still have the picture you drew of it. And the letter you sent it with.”

“Yes, I remember asking if I could take you there one day.” Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes searched his, looking for something. Something to grab on to or hope for. Something to look forward too. And as you spoke again, he knew he would do everything in his power to give you what you needed. “I know defeating Ramsay Bolton is only the beginning. We have many battles left. But promise me, when we come through the other side of them, you will let me take you there.”

Moving closer, he knelt beside you. You looked so tired and drained and somehow even more beautiful than he remembered. With the greatest care he took your face between his palms, placing a feather light kiss to your forehead, his reply more sincere than any words he had ever spoken. “I promise. But for now, you must rest. Sleep… I’ll still be here when you wake.”

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow x reader fanfic #thomas shelby #jon snow x reader fanfiction #jon snow imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine

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pantherxrogers · 5 months ago

Text

saddle up - choi san x fem!reader (18+ only)

🤠 pairings: cowboy!san x spoiled fem!reader (roleplay)

🤠 warnings: smut (18+ only), degradation kink, sir kink, explicit language, roleplay, dom!san, captive!reader (roleplay), technically cnc?, not proofread, established relationship

🤠 summary: a little roleplay action with san 🤠

🤠 a/n: cowboy san has not left my mind. therefore this was born. i'm feral for him and i'm not sorry about it! i know it's late but i had to get this out lmao. enjoy!

my masterlist

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

his looming presence makes your heart beat out of your chest.

you feel so small in front of him, which only adds to your arousal. you wiggle in the restraints, black satin ties acting as makeshift rope. the fabric keeps your wrists in place behind your back. san takes in the sight of front of him. your cute little ass perched up on your heels, totally helpless to defend yourself. it makes his cock jump.

"you little city girls are so bratty," he chides, stepping closer to your form. you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and you want to lean back into it. but, you know better.

"i'm sorry," you whine, trying to turn your head to get a better look at him. and, he's definitely a sight to behold.

the skimpy black vest looks perfect against his tanned skin. his bare chest is out, each muscle looking solid as ever. in another scenario, you'd run your hands over his abs, admiring the way they shiver beneath your touch. but, you're a little compromised right now.

trailing your eyes down, you let out gasp, his bulge prominent as ever beneath the black fabric. you quickly bite your lip, hoping you didn't do anything to further agitate the rude cowboy.

"didn't anyone ever teach you it isn't polite to stare?" he grunts, firmly gripping your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. the hungry look in his eyes adds to your growing wetness.

"'m sorry, i'm not from here," you mewl, hoping he'll take it easy on you.

"well, i could've guessed that," he smirks, shamelessly checking you out. "we don't get pretty little things like you coming through here very often." you cheeks warm at the praise. you have to bite your lip to stop the bashful smile.

"remember your manners," he commands, raising a bleached eyebrow in your direction.

"thank you, sir."

he lets out a satisfied hum, dropping the hand on your chin.

"looks like i'll have to keep you and teach you some manners."

his warm hand traces along your plump bottom lip. you open your mouth instantly, loving the weight of his thumb on your tongue. you feel hot all over, delighting in the way his eyes dilate as you put on a show for him.

"fuck, such a soft little mouth," he grunts, imagining what it would feel like to slip his cock between those glossy, full lips. you look like a pampered princess on your knees in front of him. expensive lingerie, curls perfectly styled, and flawless makeup. he can't wait to ruin all of it.

he manhandles you, prompting you to let out a surprised squeal. you're facing the headboard again, and you whine before you feel your restraints loosen. with your wrists finally free, you move around to face him fully, excitement spreading over your body.

"unbuckle my belt." your hands are working before he can finish the sentence. he smirks down at your trembling hands, loving your eagerness.

"you gonna be a good girl and suck my dick?" he hums, hard cock springing up when you pull him out of his underwear.

"yes sir," you croon, mouth nearly watering. his cock is perfect. it's thick and hard, and you want nothing more than to feel it stretch your jaw and force down your throat.

"then get to it."

you bring a manicured hand to the base of his cock, guiding it towards your mouth. sticking out your tongue, you look up at him, tapping his tip against it. you finally slide him in, the taste of him making your eyes roll back.

"fuck," he moans, hips messily bucking into your mouth. you gag slightly, not expecting the sudden intrusion. he breaks character for a second, muttering a soft apology. you hum around him, letting him know you're okay. then, he's back in the scene.

"shit, that mouth feels so good." you're taking him in deeper now, still looking up to see the pure ecstasy on his face. his head is thrown back, mouth agape, lost in pleasure.

his cock is so thick your jaw is starting to hurt already. but, it's the best kind of pain. you sink further onto him, eyes burning when your nose touches his neatly trimmed hair.

"oh fuck, keep going," he moans, reaching down to gather your curls in a messy ponytail. you hum your agreement, sending vibrations to his sensitive cock.

"keep still, 'm gonna fuck your mouth," he pants, glancing down at you. he swears his cock gets even harder, obsessed with the way you look with your lips wrapped around him.

his thrusts start out slow, like he wants you to get used to the sensation. you bring a hand up to the back of his thigh, coaxing him to really have his way with you.

"begging for me to fuck your mouth?" he huffs, already picking up the pace. the way you try to nod your head makes him chuckle, the shameless pleasure on your face feeding his ego.

"damn, i didn't know city girls were so fuckin' slutty," he chides, taking in the way your eyes dilate at his words. he picks up the pace again. a shiver runs down his spine, loving the way your throat feels on his tip.

he feels you swallow, fighting your gag reflex. the sensation pushes him over the edge, orgasm washing over him. he pulls back, messily jerking his cock in front of your face. he admires the way his cum paints your face, your surprised little gasp prolonging his orgasm.

"shiiiiiiit, so fuckin' pretty," he moans, stroking himself through the last waves of his orgasm. when he comes down, he smirks at you, still sitting there like his perfect doll. even when you're covered in his cum.

you smirk at him, bringing up a hand to collect his seed. you make a show of sucking it off your fingers, swallowing, and showing him your clean tongue.

"fuck baby, you might actually kill me." you answer him with a giggle, smiling brightly up at him.

"you did such a good job, baby. thank you," you hum, raising up on your heels to drape your arms around his neck.

"is that what you wanted?" he asks you, suddenly feeling shy. when you'd asked him to bring home his performance outfit from the "work" music video, he did it without question. now, he's just hoping he was able to live up to your fantasy.

"yes baby. you were perfect," you coo, pressing a kiss to his nose. "if there's ever a k-drama where they need someone to play the role of 'horny cowboy capturing a spoiled city girl', then i'm making you audition."

his laugh is bashful, cheeks burning with your praise.

"i don't think i can sleep without making you cum though," he grunts, pulling your body closer to his. he's shameless in the way he gropes you, feeling everywhere he can get his hands on.

"b-but, the whole point is for you to use me," you whine, finding it hard to concentrate when he's sucking hickeys into your neck.

"i don't care, baby. need to make you cum," he hums, slowly pushing you towards the center of the bed. you squeal at the sudden movement, a surprised laugh slipping through your lips.

"get ready to saddle up, baby," he smirks, reaching for the black satin ties. you settle into the mattress, ready for the long night ahead of you.

#𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ ra ra fics #choi san imagines #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x reader #choi san ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #san ateez #ateez san #ateez x black!reader

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