#so you're getting descriptions of my thoughts about the images

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato Ooh yay!! I'm still loving this story, and after the last chapter, I've been very eager to see what happens next!

The aftermath of her trying to piece together her memories of her parents' death and her brother's betrayal is so heartbreaking. 😥 Like she's realizing that the narrative of her life was a lie, in a way. Hopefully she'll be able to reclaim the part of her past that was good and true with her parents, vs. the love and care she still has in her life through the people around her.

For some reason that particular image seemed to cling on to you and refused to fade. You'd never seen him look that way, almost… helpless and a little fearful. In all the time you'd known him, Ben had never looked at you that way. Sure you'd seen him proud, angry, cocky, lustful, mischievous, but never fearful. And you were sure that it wasn't an emotion that he was used to feeling, but that begged the question… why? Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn't he let me go? And what was he afraid of?

Lol GIRL. You KNOW WHY. You're just refusing to see it! But I could really see this moment in my head like a movie -- that look on Ben's face, watching her walk away. 💔

That little creature she created is interesting though. You really get a sense that she tapped into something in her powers that was before yet unexplored -- like she broke through a barrier without realizing and unlocked new depths within herself.

You wanted to feel his awkward shoulder pat and his awkward version of hand holding and you wanted to hear him try to tell you to "buck up" or whatever he thought that a comforting word should be. He's really not the best at that.

Loll he's really not. But the thing about Ben is, when he does make those gestures, you know it's coming from a place of sincerity because he doesn't soften himself easily.

"Shh. It's alright honey." She whispers, rubbing her hand over your back, her embrace steady and surprisingly strong. "Let's go home."

Aww I love her grandmother so much! At least someone in her family is in her corner. 😭

There was something or rather someone that should be here, but you didn't know what or who. And your mind supplied Annie, but you weren't sure that's who you meant.

I think we ALL know who you meant. 😂

I also love how you describe the "creative chaos" of her grandmother's house. The imagery in those paragraphs are so descriptive and lovely to imagine. I love especially: "boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter." It's so grandmotherly and yet feels unique at the same time.

"Too late of course, but I'm a little rusty. I was able to warn Ben that Darren was coming back. That's how he got there so quickly or rather-" She shrugs sheepishly. "He got there in time to make sure that Darren didn't get you to forgive him. Which you shouldn't have at all, but I know he's always had a talent for manipulating you."

OOOOOH, MY GOD!! GRANDMA'S A SUPE TOO!! 😱😱 And it explains why Ben got there in the nick of time! And she already knew Darren was scum!!

Discovering more about her past as Soothsayer, as well as her friendship with Ben was so very interesting! I didn't see it coming and that's the best thing of all, but now it's a way her grandmother can relate to her even more -- as well as be in an even better position to give her advice when it comes to that man.

Tears crest and fall down your cheeks as you sit there, throat thickening. "I don't want to hurt Ben."

Heart...breaking... 😢 She's such a sweetheart. How can she not realize how much she cares about him (loves him)?

"He doesn't love me and Ben isn't afraid of anything." "He is. It might not look the same way on him as it does on everyone else, but if you pay close enough attention you can catch it." She hesitates. "And I think if you pay attention to you, you'll see what it is that you're afraid of too."

GRANDMA YESSSS, TELL HER!!! GET IT THROUGH HER HEAD! lolll

Ben isn't incapable of fear (or love), no matter how much he'd like to pretend. The way it comes out of him might "look different," through snappish anger and denial and rigidity, but it's still fear.

But the feet keep moving past the apartment and Ben sinks into the couch cushions. Even Bean seems to be disappointed. "It's alright buddy." Ben mutters. "She'll come back." But he wasn't sure.

Awww Benjamin, you're breaking my heart! 😭 But the fact that he went back to save Jake honestly speaks volumes! (Even if I did cackle my ass off at "What a fucking pussy.")

Ben didn't understand why he hated watching you cry.

Come on now, Ben. You're over 100 years old! Surely you get what's happening to you by now! 🤣🤣 You're simping for a girl you care about!

He wasn't sure if you'd noticed it yet, but you looked different too. There weren't as many lines on your face and your hair was more springy, the few silver hairs that Ben had noticed in passing were no longer there.

Oooh the plants are keeping her young, huh? 😏 Maybe enough to sync up her lifespan with Ben's???

"Di?" "Yes it's me. Who did you think it was? Santa Clause?" Your grandmother snarks. "Why are you calling me and why the fuck are you so mad? What did I do?" Ben answers slightly annoyed.

LMFAOO. Again, I love her. Kick his ass, Di! Get him in gear! "Try harder" -- INDEED.

"How is it that it's been forty fucking years and you're still able to dance on the grave of my last nerve?"

I'm deeeeeadd! I loved this line so much. 🤣🤣🤣 Benjamin is testing my patience too, good Lord. I can see why he's scared. He's on the verge of admitting he loves her -- and finally doing something about it. After his experience with Countess, that'll put anyone off of trying again to delve into a proper relationship (not to say their relationship was a proper example of a loving one, because it wasn't, obviously). Especially for someone like Ben, who struggles with real intimacy and dealing with his feelings, it makes sense that he'd digging his heels in now -- no matter how frustrating it is. 🙃🙃

But omg the cliffhanger though! Who just called him? My gut feeling is Stan Edgar, but I could be wrong lol. Can't wait to see how you close out this series! 💕

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy 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), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy, Miscommunication Trope

Word Count: 13.1K

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, Talks of Death, DENIAL, Idiots in Love, Pining by the Reader (and SB, but he won't admit it) Depressing Thoughts, Mentions of sexual assault/rape (not detailed at all, really just in passing) Talks about weed, Sexist comments, Ben makes derogatory comments, Threatening 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

A/N: I am so sorry this one took me a bit longer. The writers block was fighting me the whole way, but we are very closely nearing the end of this series and the moment the reader and Ben stop being so stinkin' stubborn.

Reader POV

You lean your forehead against the cool window, watching the world flash by in a flurry of color. The wooded forests had vanished hours ago and all that was left were the yellowed sprawling fields of corn and grain and family farms that were laid sporadically along the interstate. Each one a little world that caught the flecks of golden sunlight as the sun began to peak above the horizon.

The bus rolled smooth and steady over the weathered pavement towards it's destination and was filled with an odd assortment of people young and old. There was man with a brightly colored parrot that had been singing "It's A Small World After All" since you left NYC, a woman with a little boy playing with an iPad and who refused to turn down the volume no matter how many times his mother asked him to, a group of teenagers a few seats up that continued to pass around a flask, and due to how far back you were sitting on the bus an uncomfortable smell emanated from the bathroom each time the door was opened.

But you didn't notice any of it.

The only thing on your mind were the events that happened almost twenty hours ago. They continued to circle your mind, playing over and over again like a perverted cassette tape making you sink further into the worn cloth covered seat at the back of the bus. The images were haunting, some new and some old, but all the more still horrible to re-live.

The song "Nights In White Satin" floating into the backseat of your family's car, the flash of unnatural light you knew was never lightning, the caskets at your parent's funeral covered in flowers that were much to pretty to lay on something so morbid, Elijah's body succumbing to the poppies that ripped him apart, the proud sneer on your brother's face when he admitted to killing your parents, Darren's broken and bloodied body strewn in pieces over the street with the creature standing over him with a dripping red maw, the ruined building that housed "Please Don't Die" reduced to nothing more than rubble, and the look on Ben's face when you turned your back on him and fled the scene.

For some reason that particular image seemed to cling on to you and refused to fade. You'd never seen him look that way, almost… helpless and a little fearful. In all the time you'd known him, Ben had never looked at you that way. Sure you'd seen him proud, angry, cocky, lustful, mischievous, but never fearful. And you were sure that it wasn't an emotion that he was used to feeling, but that begged the question… why?

Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn't he let me go? And what was he afraid of?

The creature curled in your lap snorts something in it's sleep, turning it’s head further into the cradle of your elbow to shut out the brilliant early morning sunlight. It was now the size of a toaster and had warranted several odd looks whenever you got off to change buses, but you didn't care.

You weren't sure about anything anymore. Everything your brother confessed to you made you feel like you were living a lie and the revelation of exactly what your powers could do- take life from plants to heal yourself, create whatever the hell it was on your lap, and speak to plants… it scared you.

You thought for so long that you knew everything about your powers, that you were in control, but now you weren't sure.

You felt different, as if something had unlocked deep down that you couldn't shut up again.

You'd felt different after you killed Elijah, but this was more alive, weaving and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You felt more connected to the earth, to the world outside the bus even though you were divided by glass and metal. You could feel the energy that thrummed through the body of the creature on your lap, bending to your will, the life force of the plants it was formed from molding with you, becoming a part of you.

You felt so different than the person you had been before Darren entered the shop, so uncertain, and there was only one place you wanted to be when you felt like this… home. You couldn't wait to run up the worn front steps of your grandmother's house and into her arms. She always knew what to say in times like this.

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

The phone in your pocket buzzes again and you flip the screen to see the ridiculous selfie Annie and you had taken on Halloween last year. The one that you'd both spent dressed up as the two brothers from your favorite paranormal tv show. It wasn't the first time she'd called. Annie had called and texted you more times than you could count over the past twenty hours but you didn't answer her. You didn’t want to.

It was the first time that you didn't want to talk to her, but talking to her meant that you'd have to re-live all of it again and you were clawing at the last shred of sanity you had left to keep it together.

The overwhelming waves of emotion kept pummeling you, dragging you deeper beneath the white surf. Each one brought the memories of what happened surging over you and were followed by everything that Darren said to you. Years of taking care of Darren and doing whatever he wished were tearing at your soul, years of giving up little things in your life to make him happy, and years of taking care of a man who you thought cared about you, but hated you enough to kill your parents and try to kill you too.

It made your skin crawl. Each time your brother told you that he loved you was an even bigger lie and now that you knew the truth and saw him for what he was, it felt like you were drowning. The darkness that ebbed just on the edge was begging you to leap into the abyss, but you were resisting the best you could.

The tears had stopped falling miles ago, but you couldn't stop the memories or the emotion that formed a cold ball in the pit of your stomach.

A sigh works it's way up and you pull your legs on the seat underneath you, jostling the creature on your lap that raises it's head for a moment to blink it's black eyes at you sleepily.

It was surprisingly docile right now, especially considering that twenty hours ago it had ripped your brother to shreds. In fact it seemed to understand how upset you were and had spent the better part of the last twenty hours rubbing it's head against your arm as if trying to bring you some comfort. It was settled on your lap, the weight of it a comfort, almost like a weighted plushy that gave you something to focus on.

"It's alright buddy." You whisper, scratching him under his chin. "We're almost home."

The phone in your jacket pocket buzzes again, but when you pull it out to turn it off, you catch a glimpse of the screen, and you hesitate. Because this time it's not Annie who's calling, it’s Ben.

The picture that flashes on the screen under the contact name "Gramps" is the picture of Mr. Fredrickson from Up. It always made you smile whenever he called you and you saw the picture because Ben did often remind you of him. He was certainly just as grumpy as Mr. Fredrickson and just as out of touch, but you thought it was cute.

Your thumb hovers over the answer button and you think about talking to him.

But what would I say?

You weren't sure what to say to him, or why you wanted to speak to him so badly, why you wanted him to be sitting here on the bus with you as you went home, and why you wanted him to hold you against his chest while you allowed yourself to break, but you did. You wanted to feel his awkward shoulder pat and his awkward version of hand holding and you wanted to hear him try to tell you to "buck up" or whatever he thought that a comforting word should be.

He's really not the best at that.

You smile to yourself at the memory of how he tried to comfort you back at the hospital, but the longer you sit there and look down at the picture on the screen the worse you feel.

Maybe that scared you more than your newfound powers, how much you were realizing that you needed him, how much you depended on him when things got too much for you to bear. The memory of him appearing as soon as you needed him back at the shop, another of him grabbing Darren and throwing him into the street as soon as Darren insulted you comes in a flash, and finally followed by the memory of Ben carrying you out of Elijah's office while you curled into his chest. You couldn't remember too much from that moment, in fact you'd thought that Ben had kissed you on top of your head, but you ascribed that to the haze of pain you'd been in from your broken arm.

What you did remember was how wonderfully warm he was after you'd been trapped in that damn freezer and how nice it felt to be in his arms. Another memory of Ben sleeping on the couch at the hospital bubbles up and you feel something in your chest begin to crack open. And you try your best to tell yourself the same thing that you always do when you feel like Ben might care more about you that he was letting on.

Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear. He doesn't want a relationship. He's only wants one night, that's why he goes out with all those women-

You hesitate, thumb still hovering over the answer button as you do, the memory of the week you'd spent at the apartment with him flickering in the back of your mind. The week where he refused to leave you alone in the apartment, where he refused to do any jobs for Butcher, where he took care of you the best way he could, when he sat with you on the couch and made you laugh with his ridiculous movies, and the week where he hadn't had one date.

Your finger itched to answer the phone, but you couldn't, because you didn't want to feel this way about Ben, not when he'd told you countless times that you kept romanticizing him, not when he told you that he didn't want a relationship, and not when you could feel yourself beginning to fall for someone you thought was the wrong man.

For just a moment you tried to pretend that it was different, that he was different, but you didn't want to. It only made it hurt more.

The phone stops ringing, but the pit in your stomach still gapes open at you and for the first time in twenty hours you feel tears begin to fall. You didn't know why you were crying about this, why the thought of not picking up Ben's phone call seemed to hurt more than everything that had happened, but something made it hurt.

The bus driver announces over the overhead that you're reaching your final destination as he takes the exit for your hometown. The familiar buildings that line the streets are sheathed in a honeyed glow from the sun, the long shadow of the bus darkening them momentarily as it rumbles down the small streets to the bus station.

When it rumbles to a stop at the bus station you wait for everyone else to get off, trying to summon the strength to stand, and swipe the back of your hand across your face to rid yourself of the remaining tears.

The bus station was about a thirty minute walk from your grandmother's house, and you still hadn't called her. You didn't know what to say, didn't know how to tell her that Darren was dead and that he was the reason why your parents were dead.

The creature crawls up your body to drape it's warm body over the back of your neck as you stand. It wasn't bothering to hide, besides the people in your hometown already thought that you were odd because you were a supe and you'd always welcomed it. You give him a scratch on top of his head and his warm tongue flicks on the bottom of your earlobe as if thanking you before it curls further into the side of your neck, seeking warmth.

The first few steps on solid ground are shaky, but you find the strength while taking in a deep cleansing breath of the outside world, letting the gentle warmth of the sun and the tickle of the autumn breeze pull at your coat. You hadn't stopped at your apartment before coming here, instead you had stumbled your way to the bus station covered in dust, flecked in blood, and demanded the first ticket back to Illinois. It was lucky that the next bus was leaving immediately, because you didn’t want to spend another second in NYC, not when all you wanted was to be home.

Plus you were worried that someone had recorded what exactly happened outside the plant shop and you didn't want to get arrested.

It was self defense anyway. Maybe Jake would represent me in court.

The thought of Jake makes you twinge. You hadn't checked to see if he was alright before you ran from the scene. Not to mention you'd destroyed the shop he'd put all his life savings into after he stopped being a lawyer.

Oh fuck, what if he sues me? He can't exactly sue Darren…

You hear someone call your name and you open your eyes.

Your grandmother is standing in front of the same baby blue pickup truck that she'd had longer than you've been alive, wearing a long multicolored skirt and a pressed white blouse tucked elegantly into it. Her silver hair is loose and long, curling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She looks the same way she looked one week ago when she left, and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

You're running before you can stop yourself, crumbling into her warm embrace, with more tears streaking down your face, but she doesn't mind.

"Shh. It's alright honey." She whispers, rubbing her hand over your back, her embrace steady and surprisingly strong. "Let's go home."

Her home is the same as it's always been. A two story Victorian house painted in a happy yellow shade, with a white wrap around porch and two white rocking chairs sitting empty on the front porch. You'd spent more nights than you could count rocking silently beside her with a crochet project in your lap listening to the rain fall and soak the world outside, while the plants sang praises with every gentle bend beneath the heavy droplets.

You could barely remember the home you spent in your early years with your parents, not when you'd spent most of your childhood spending the night here and after your parents died living here permanently. There was still a large oak tree were a wooden swing swung in the slight breeze on the left side of the yard, a gardenia bush that stretched as high as the second story on the right side of the house and brushed it's soft leaves against the sunshine colored outer walls, a garden filled with both flowering plants and herbs that perked up on both sides of the front yard as you walked up the path, and a cobblestone path that Annie and you had spent hours of your shared childhood covering in chalk art.

Neither of you were good, but when the rain would fall and smudge the clean lines, you'd jump in the puddles that pooled along the walkway singing the lyrics to ABBA's "Cassandra" not quite understanding what it meant.

Standing here outside your house made you miss Annie and feel worse about not calling or texting her back, but you didn't feel like talking about what happened and you were sure that Butcher filled her in. The only thing that you wanted was to collapse in your bedroom upstairs and curl under the comforters.

Despite everything the house was a welcome sight, but at the same time it was different. You could feel the plants calling out to you, asking for you, bending towards you just to touch your shoes as you walked by. You'd never felt so connected with them before, not even when you were in your apartment or working at the shop.  It was overwhelming.

And although a part of you was frightened by it, another part of you rejoiced in it. You didn't feel alone, didn't feel weak, and you knew that you never would ever again.

The creature nuzzled into the side of your neck with a sigh, soaking up the sun's healing rays as you walked up the front steps with your grandmother following behind you silently. She hadn't spoken since she picked you up at the bus station and you hadn't supplied anything in the ten minute car ride back to her house.

You didn't know where to start and you were still trying to process everything yourself.

The inside of her house was just as cozy and warm as it was the day you moved out. There were photos of your parents and you covering the walls (Darren's had been placed in the closet long ago), half-finished knitting projects sorted in different baskets on both the dining room table and the living room coffee table, spools of yarn were strewn over the couch sorted by color, and the fresh smell of gardenia wafted through the open windows on the breeze.

It was home. This was what you'd been missing the moment everything began to crash over you, but as you stood there in the familiar living room it felt like something was missing. Something tugged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

There was something or rather someone that should be here, but you didn't know what or who. And your mind supplied Annie, but you weren't sure that's who you meant.

"Let's have some tea." Your grandmother says from behind you and you feel her soft hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the familiar creative chaos and into the large kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen isn't spared from the madness, it rarely was. There are boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter, dirty bowls and a measuring cup stacked in the sink, and a large opened bag of chocolate chips spilling over the flour covered kitchen island.

It wasn't unusual to find the kitchen or the house in a state of chaos, your grandmother always said that a house should look lived in and that the mess was part of the fun of any major project as long as you were responsible enough to clean it up.

"Bake sale?" You ask as you sit down in the breakfast nook, uttering the first words that you'd said to another human being in twenty hours.

The next breath that you inhale was supposed to be cleansing, but you can still feel a weight pressing down on your chest, the same one that settled in the moment everything happened with Darren.

You contemplate again how you're going to tell her that Darren is dead and was the reason why your parents died.

Damn it Darren.

"Mhmm." She hums, filling the well used red kettle. "Annie's mother practically cornered me in the supermarket yesterday and begged me to make cookies. I love Annie, but her mother needs someone to pull that stick out of her ass. It's been up there for so long that I'm sure it's rotten."

The creature crawls down from your shoulders and down your arm to sniff at one of the chocolate chip cookies nearest you. It hadn't eaten since…

Darren.

You wince slightly at the thought and hope that you hadn't created something that needed and craved human flesh. The last thing you wanted to unleash on the world was Audry two especially in the wake of Homelander.

Truthfully you were waiting for the guilt at killing your brother to come, but it never had and you wondered if it ever would.

Probably not. He deserved that, he killed our parents, he tried to kill me, he tried to kill Ben.

The thought of Ben again makes a lump form in the back of your throat. You didn't know what was happening to you only that you felt guilty for leaving him like that, for yelling at him to let you go, and just vanishing on him when he probably thought that you were going back to the apartment.

He doesn't know where I am. Maybe that's why he tried to call, because he got back to the apartment and couldn't find me there and he was worried. You press your lips together. Yeah. Worried. Right.

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

You look up from the box of chocolate chip cookies that you didn't remember picking up. Even the creature is looking at you with an expression that you can only explain as worry.

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

She's leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly to the side, her beautiful grayed hair pulled up in an elegant bun, but in her eyes you can see genuine concern. "Fuck." She sighs after a minute.

You blink in surprise. It was the first time that you'd ever heard her say that word in your entire life.

"I shouldn't have left." She breathes. "I told Ben to look out for you. I told him, that little bastard was bound to show up again and what did he do? He left you at that plant shop alone with no protection!"

You'd only seen her really angry a handful of times in your lifetime. Like you, your grandmother often had a gentle disposition and didn't get angry unless the situation called for it.

I mean, Darren admitted to killing our parents and then got fucking ripped apart. But how does she know about any of that? I haven't told her…

"How did you know that he left me there? Did Ben call you?" You ask putting down the box of cookies.

An odd expression crosses her face, as if she's contemplating something. "No." She hesitates again. "I saw it."

"No." Your grandmother hesitates. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

"Too late of course, but I'm a little rusty. I was able to warn Ben that Darren was coming back. That's how he got there so quickly or rather-" She shrugs sheepishly. "He got there in time to make sure that Darren didn't get you to forgive him. Which you shouldn't have at all, but I know he's always had a talent for manipulating you."

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

Instead of explaining further your grandmother walks out of the kitchen, leaving the kettle behind on the stove and you in a state of utter confusion.

Is she saying that she can see the future? Because that would mean that she's a supe and there's only one supe in history that I know of that can do that. A supe that no one has seen in over forty years.

You can hear her open the door to the closet under the stairs and the sound of her sifting through all the junk that the two of you had shoved in there over the years instead of finding the right place to put it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, she's holding a giant cardboard file box that you'd never paid attention to each time you opened the closet to find something. Your eyes shift from the box to her still not comprehending exactly what she was saying.

"I probably should have told you this a while ago, but…" She trails off and nods her head at the box before turning back to the kettle on the stove that has begun to scream. "I kept putting it off."

The box is old, worn at the edges, and theres a musty black fabric beneath a collection of yellowed photographs. You pull out the one on top to examine it.

Ben is standing there in his full Soldier Boy regalia outside of Vought tower and the woman standing next to him is Soothsayer. The outfit she wore was familiar, a black-skin tight suit with a blind fold tied over her eyes.

Soothsayer was a supe who could see the future and who was apart of Payback, a supe that had vanished a year before the mission in Nicaragua and no one knew where she went. There were rumors that she'd died and that she'd been a Russian spy, but you'd never believed them. You'd heard Butcher talk about how he tried to find her when he was trying to figure out what happened to Soldier Boy, but he never had. Said that the trail went cold.

But now you knew where she went, because she was standing directly in front of you.

She's Soothsayer? Holy fuck that's why Ben kept accusing her of cheating in the poker game because he knew that she could see the future.

"You were Soothsayer?" You gasp. "But why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

She continues to measure the tea leaves. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Grandpa didn't know? But he was alive when you were a supe?"

Your grandfather had never spoken about a history with supes that you remember.

"No." She turns to look at you, a hurt expression crossing over her face for a minute. "Well, I know that I said I was going to have tea, but if we're going to talk about this I'm going to need something a little bit stronger."

Your grandmother opens a cabinet under the stove an pulls out an enormous bottle of scotch. Truth be told you'd never seen her drink more than just a glass of wine, to see her like this was about as shocking as seeing a polar bear sunning itself on a Florida beach.

"Do you still want the blueberry tea or do you need something a little stronger?" She looks back over her shoulder at you as she pulls down a glass for herself.

"I think I need something stronger." You answer honestly.

Learning about everything Darren had done was one thing, but finding out that your grandmother used to be a famous supe and that she never told you about it was another thing. It was like looking at another person. You'd always loved your grandmother's gentle way, her care for her community and her family soft, but now you weren't sure you really knew who she was.

She sits down across from you and hands you a glass of the amber colored liquid. There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you as she tries to find a way to start. The photo of her and Ben is laying on top of what you realize is her uniform inside the box and she smiles down at the photo, just a little twitch at the corner of her lips.

"I met Ben when I was twenty three years old." She begins taking a sip from the glass. "Legend 'discovered' me. I had the injection of Compound V maybe two years before that, not when I was born, but I hadn't gotten popular. Other powers were much more flashy and by then there were so many heroes coming out of the woodwork that someone with the ability to see the future didn't seem as marketable."

There's something reflected in her blue eyes, the same eyes your father had, that you can't place. "I had just moved to New York, I had no money, and the way I was getting it was by pretending to be a fortune teller and betting on some sports events on the side. It wasn't hard to prove that I could see the future, the past was more difficult, but Legend somehow stumbled into my shop and figured out that I was a supe. And he didn't think I was too bad looking so he helped me get big."

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

She snorts into her glass. "Mhmm. People really will believe anything if they're desperate enough and back then there was so much turmoil going on with Russia that people were scared and wanted to feel comforted. My job provided some of that."

"But why did you walk away from it if you were such a big hero." You ask. "Everyone knew your name, you were-"

Your grandmother raises an eyebrow at you and you fall silent so she can continue. "When I got onto Payback that's when everything exploded for me, the films, the commercials, the ridiculous ads." She sighs. "That's also when I met Ben."

You take a sip from the glass in front of you, sputtering slightly. It was stronger than you were expecting. "And you two were-"

Please don't say dating, please don't say dating, please don't say…

"Friends. Just friends." Diana sits back against the back of the breakfast nook, sinking into the navy blue pillows. "But he is almost as charming now as he was then."

You cringe at the thought of Ben coming on to a younger version of your grandmother.

She taps her glass with her index finger deep in thought. "But I think that I was the only person that Ben actually talked to, the only person that he was comfortable being around."

"What do you mean?" You ask confused. "Didn't he talk to Countess and to Legend?"

Her expression hardens at the mention of Countess's name. "He didn't talk to her the way he talked to me. Ben is difficult, he always has been and I think that most of the people he meet him write him off as this asshole with a chauvinistic look on the world, but he's not. At least, not all the time. There are so many people that he's met that are never willing to take a chance on him. To trust that there is really something beneath all of that bravado."

It was what you had been thinking for the past week, that there was more to Ben than he was willing to let people see, but you were slowly realizing that Ben was letting you see those parts. In the quiet moments at your shared apartment when he sat with you while you read or made you laugh or walked you to and from work you saw another side of Ben that you never saw when he was around anyone else. The guilt rises again when you think of how you ran from him, how you turned your back and left him standing there to clean up your mess.

I shouldn’t have done that, but it was all just so overwhelming and I didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I think that Ben is the most loyal friend I ever had. No one ever seems to believe me when I say that. That we were just friends, but nothing happened between us."

"You didn't date? Or sleep together?" You ask cautiously. It was difficult to imagine Ben being friends with a woman and not having a sexual relationship with her.

Well. We're friends, but that's different.

The last thing you wanted to think about was Ben and your grandmother having sex.

I would need so much therapy after that. You sigh. Yeah, because after all the shit I've been through and found out about my life in the last twenty hours, the knowledge that Ben fucked my grandmother is what's going to push me over the edge.

"No." She shakes her head with a small smile. "About a week after I met Ben, I was running late to a movie shoot and I stepped off the crosswalk without looking. There was a car coming and I didn't see it. Ironic isn't it?" She laughs at herself. "I can see the future and I didn't see a car coming, but your grandfather did and he grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me onto the sidewalk, saved my life. And the second my eyes locked with his I saw our future. I saw our wedding, our first house, I saw our son take his first steps and I saw how much I would love him and how much he would love me." She clears her throat for a minute, her fingers tighten on the glass, and her gaze drops to the wedding ring on her left hand. “The future is never set in stone, it’s fluid. It morphs and shapes with your decisions, but in the future I saw, I was so happy. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

Your grandfather had passed a few years ago, but you knew it weighed on her everyday. She had spent the week after he died in her room not saying anything to anyone. And sometimes she'd look out the window into the backyard with an odd expression, but you knew that meant she was thinking of him.

Growing up you'd seen how in love the two of them were, more so than your parents. Seen the flowers your grandfather always brought home just because he was thinking of her, watched him do little things around the house without being asked, saw how they never walked away angry from one another, and seen the soppy expression he'd get when he watched your grandmother move around the kitchen baking with a grace that you'd never possessed.

You reach across the table to touch her hand and she takes it gratefully.

"I didn't want to tell him that I was a supe, and at the beginning I thought I could balance it all, but then Ben started dating Countess." She takes another sip from her glass. "She hated me."

"What? Why?" You ask. The creature crawls across the table to sniff at the glass in front of you, before it snorts and falls into your lap, curling into a ball.

"Countess was a bitch." Your grandmother says mirthlessly, her expression hardening. "She wanted to possess Ben completely. Only loved how famous he was, how popular it made her, and he threw himself at her feet, in his own way, not understanding that love didn’t look that way. He’s never had a good example of it in his life. And she never understood that Ben and I were just friends. By then I had been dating your grandfather for a few months and things were getting serious. It was about a year before everything that happened in Nicaragua."

She presses her lips together as if remembering what happened to Ben there. "She was jealous, possessive, and she came to me one night. Ben was out of town for a film so she knew we wouldn’t be interrupted. She threatened to tell your grandfather who I really was and threatened to kill him.” Her jaw sets. “My powers were never really as offensive as hers were. And she said that Ben wouldn’t ever protect me over her because he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. So I left and I never looked back.”

And here I thought I couldn't hate Countess any more than I did for what she did to Ben.

“You didn’t talk to him ever again?” You wonder out loud.

She left without telling him goodbye?

“There was the occasional phone call. Sometimes Ben would ask me to see who was going to win a ball game or something so he could make a few bucks. He stopped by to say hi a few times because he was in the neighborhood. One time he brought your father a baseball glove that was way too big for a one year old.” She snorts, the memory flashing in her eyes. “I always thought Ben would be a good dad some day. But I think seeing your father was when Ben realized how much he wanted to have kids. And I think seeing the way your grandfather treated me made him start to feel conflicted about Countess. But he respected that I walked away, he saw that I was happy.”

“But what about Nicaragua?"

A dark look crosses her face followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “I saw what they were going to do to him.”

“What? But why didn't you tell him what they were planning? Why didn't you-"

"I tried." She snaps, shoulders tense, but then they drop. "I called Ben, but Stan answered. By then your father was turning two, your grandfather had opened up his practice, and Stan threatened me, he knew where we were and knew everything about us. So I kept my mouth shut and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

Ben was her best friend and she had to sit by and watch them do that to him. She saw what they were going to do and they were going to kill her for it, kill my family for it.

The anger that surges in your chest makes the creature in your lap stir and grow a few inches, but you tamp it down before it gets bigger than a small dog.

“Does Ben know?” You ask her to distract yourself.

You didn't want Ben to hate your grandmother for this, didn't want him to hate her for something that wasn't her fault.

She nods. “Yes. I told him everything.”

“When?”

“The moment I saw him in your hospital room. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I wasn't expecting him to be there, but it all poured out of me. I was so surprised to see him there. I hadn't seen a future where he came back."

“Was he mad?”

I mean… he didn't seem mad when I woke up, not to mention he was upset when she left to come back to Illinois.

“Not at me.” She shakes her head. “He knew how much I wanted a normal life and how much I loved your grandfather. He doesn’t blame me for any of it.”

“Good. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

The glass in front of you is still more than half-full but you don't want to risk another sip of what you're sure is gasoline packaged to look like Scotch. Your grandmother reaches to pour herself another glass.

“I didn’t want to until you were ready.”

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

You weren't angry for her not telling you, more surprised, but now that you knew everything about her it was hard to see her the same way you had.

 You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

“The moment you made that strawberry plant grow from your high chair.” She shakes her head with a smile. “It skipped a generation. Don’t know why, but you got it all somehow.”

“I was never injected?”

“No. That was a lie your father created. He knew that your grandfather didn't know and he knew that I didn't want your grandfather to know."

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

At the mention of your brother's name, you watch her expression harden and she takes another swig from the glass in front of her, not flinching as the liquid goes down her throat.

“Did you see everything that happened?” You ask in a small voice.

You still weren't 100% sure how it was her powers worked, but you figured that she was able to see some of what Darren did and what he said.

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

You chew the inside of your cheek for a minute hoping that she didn't take it as hard as you did. “Did you know that he killed them?”

“No.” She breathes, rolling the glass between her hands for a moment. “The night they died, I got a vision a few minutes before the car ran off the road. I was the one who called the police and who told them where to look, but I never saw that it was Darren or that it was anyone causing the accident. All I saw was the three of you in the car. I should have known.” Her voice breaks.

“It’s not your fault.” You squeeze her hand.

“And it’s not yours either.” She squeezes your hand back.

The memories are beginning to float up from the recesses of your mind and your teeth clench together as you try to keep them at bay.

“I know.” You breathe. The memory of the ruined shop flashes through your head. “I didn’t know that I could do something like that.” You gently touch your healed right arm and glance at the creature that is nibbling on the edge of the cardboard box with its sharp splinter-like teeth. “I feel so different and I don’t know how to go back to the way I was.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

The thought was unwelcome. You were hoping that all of this was going to blow over, but you knew it wouldn't. Your powers had changed. There was an energy that thrummed in your veins now, stretching out of the house to the plants that grew in the garden. You could feel them all if you concentrated.

She frowns. “When you told me that you were working for Butcher I was worried about you getting involved in the supe world. I didn’t want that life for you, didn’t want you to suffer the way I did-“

“Was it really that bad?"

“Not all the time, just at the end. But I think that’s why I loved your grandfather so much. Because he was different than all the supes. He was down to earth, not just normal but-“ She shrugs. “I think Compound V does something to our minds, makes them more susceptible and when you’re surrounded by people using their powers and thinking that they’re gods it’s easy to lose who you are. I was glad I left when I did."

“Great." You huff, thinking about how your powers had grown exponentially since you killed your brother. It was scaring you to think that you would reach a point where you acted like Homelander, where you saw yourself as a god and killed anyone who stood in your way.

As tired as the stereotype of you only being able to make the flowers grow, you liked doing that. You liked healing plants, tending to them, and helping them grow. For you it had never been about using your powers the way that you had to kill Elijah and your brother and had always been about spreading a little more joy and love like your grandmother did with her kindness in her community.

Your mind flashes back to the first night that Ben stayed with you in your apartment and he'd asked you why you worked for Butcher and told you that he thought you "didn't fit."

Before you hadn't. You knew that. You weren't intimidating to look at or fueled by revenge or had a bone to pick with supes. You'd joined because you thought it was the right thing to do and because you wanted to be closer with Annie. She had been so involved in the supe world and you'd felt like you were losing your best friend. When in reality being at "Please Don't Die" was the only thing that felt natural for you.

You could feel yourself changing and you weren't sure that you wanted to and you weren't sure if you were changing for the better. Deep down you still felt like you, despite everything Darren had revealed, but your powers were greater than you'd thought they could be.

“No.” She squeezes your hand pulling you out of your head. “I don’t see you losing yourself in this.”

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

“The future yeah.” Her lips twitch up at the ends in a smile. “It is what I do.”

“That’s so weird.”

You hadn't meant to say it, but you really didn't want to know too much about your future.

Well, not all that much. Maybe just a little.

“You of all people have no right to judge what’s weird. Not with Godzilla sitting in your lap.”

"Godzilla" yawns, flashing a mouthful of his pointy teeth, before settling back down on your thighs.

You smile for the first time in twenty hours, but then it drops. “I don’t like losing control. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t-“ The emotions were bubbling up again, chest tightening, and lungs beginning to gasp for air. “I don’t know who I am anymore or what I am or what I can do and-“

“There’s nothing wrong with not being in control.”

“But what if I hurt someone? What if I kill-“ You body shakes as you think about all the important people in your life, Annie, Hughie, Butcher, Kimiko, MM, Frenchie- and then your mind stutters on Ben.

“Your powers are growing and there’s nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of. If you’re afraid of them it won’t get easier for you. You have to embrace the fear to see the lights that line the path through it.”

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

"Not because you lost control. You did it because you were protecting yourself and protecting your friends."

"But-"

"Who is it that you're scared of hurting? Annie?" Her expression turns sympathetic. "Annie is a supe and understands what it's like to lose control. None of us are in control all the time and it's ridiculous to believe that you won't lose control at least once."

Your throat clenches tightly, because when she asked the question you didn't see Annie's face, you saw Ben's. You knew that it was probably ridiculous to worry about hurting a guy with a nuclear reactor stuffed in his chest or a guy who'd been through every torture known to man, but you were. And you weren't entirely sure if you meant hurting him with just your powers.

Tears crest and fall down your cheeks as you sit there, throat thickening. "I don't want to hurt Ben."

"He's a little more indestructible than us sweetie." She cracks a smile, but you can't smile back and you don't answer because you're unsure how to.

She sits back against the breakfast nook and sighs, examining your face and slowly realizes what you mean. "Ben is complicated. He always has been. I like to think that most of it, is his father's fault. Has he told you anything about him?"

You shake your head.

"He was a dick. Made Ben think that he was a disappointment his whole life. I don't think that Ben has had someone love him unconditionally since his mother died. And loving Countess only made it worse for him. Her love was jealous, possessive, and I don't think that he's really come to terms with what real love should look like." She lets out a breath, tapping her index finger against the glass. "I never saw him as more than a friend, but I do love him. It's not a crime to love him."

"I don't love him." You say it immediately.

"Why not?"

"What?" You sputter. "I don't know what you're-"

"Tell me why you don't love him." Your grandma says methodically, as if she's trying to talk you through it.

"Because I-" The pressure was back in the back of your throat and you couldn't quite meet her eye. "Because-" You scramble for the answer, trying your darndest to keep your heart from clenching in your chest. "I want what you and grandpa had, what Annie and Hughie have, and what my parents had. A strong relationship with someone who sees all my flaws, the little parts, and the darkness and still choses to fall in love with me anyway. I don't want just one night I want every night. I want something real and Ben has said countless times that he-"

"So you've talked about it with Ben?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Only because he kept trying to sleep with me and I told him that I didn't want to have sex with him." You reply exasperated.

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. Because Ben has said that he doesn't have relationships, that he doesn't care about feelings, or emotions." Saying the words that Ben had told you countless times made something inside begin to shrivel up and die. "And I do. And I don't want to manipulate him into being something he's not or force him into a relationship that's doomed from the beginning. Ben is Ben. He's not changing or-"

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

"The Ben I saw in your hospital room is not the one I knew." She says it so matter of fact that makes it hard to breathe. "And neither was the one that I saw in your apartment when I stayed with you. I mean he is in essence Ben, but-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He is changing. Not completely, but he's acting differently than when he was with Countess. I mean, I saw all the things he did for her. The way he was around her."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

The words make your heart seize in your chest. "Ben doesn't love me. He's my roommate and my friend-" It was the same thing that you kept telling yourself on repeat to beat back the other feelings that you hadn't quite identified yet. "And he's told me that he doesn't want a relationship and that I should try to meet other people."

That last part was a lie, but you honestly didn't know where she was going with this conversation or why it was getting so hard to breathe.

"Have you thought that maybe Ben doesn't want to love you because he's scared?"

"He doesn't love me and Ben isn't afraid of anything."

"He is. It might not look the same way on him as it does on everyone else, but if you pay close enough attention you can catch it." She hesitates. "And I think if you pay attention to you, you'll see what it is that you're afraid of too."

What does she mean? What the hell am I afraid of? Ben isn't afraid of anything, he's practically shouted that from the mountaintops like Julie Andrews.

"I already told you what I'm afraid of."

"I'm not talking about you hurting someone honey. There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared." She smiles sadly at you. "You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful." There's a far off look in her eyes and you realize that she'd seen something further ahead that she wasn't letting on.

"And it's all I want for you. To be happy." Your grandmother stands from the other side of the booth "I think you need some rest. You drove all night long and I doubt you got any sleep. And I have to package all of these before Annie's mother calls down the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on me."

"Wait-"

"Please sweetie." She lays her hand down on your arm. "I think you'll feel a little better about all of this when you've had some rest." Her fingers raise to push back some of the hair that's fallen forward into your eyes. "Hmm?"

You didn't want to rest, you wanted to talk about this, but you knew better than to argue with her. Not to mention she was right, you hadn't slept.

"And when you wake up I'll make your favorite for dinner, alright?" She smiles, but there's something behind it that you can't place.

"Okay."

And this time you don't argue with her. You go up the worn staircase that you have your entire life and collapse onto your bed, wondering exactly what it was she saw your future hold, and what it is that you won't admit to yourself.

Soldier Boy POV

There was no light in the apartment save from the burning red tip of Ben's blunt and the bluish glow emanating from the tv that caught the dips and sharp edges of his face. But it was nothing more than background noise.

His hand absentmindedly stroked along Bean's back, his eyes focused on the ceiling above the couch. He hadn't moved in hours. It had been over twenty four hours since everything that happened at the plant shop, since you'd summoned a creature from the depths of the store, since Darren had thrown Ben through the plate glass windows of the bakery, and since Ben had last seen you.

He didn't understand why you hadn't let him take you back to the apartment and why it was that you had to leave. Ben hadn't liked the feeling that stabbed him in the chest when you turned your back on him and ran away. He'd felt the urge to comfort you the way he'd watched Hughie do for Annie in the car a week ago, but you hadn't let him.

Instead all he'd done is stood there and watched you run, still covered in dust, rubble, and blood. Worse was you hadn't let him check you for injuries and Ben hated the thought that you were hurt somewhere and he didn't know where you were.

You were so much more fragile than he was. He was realizing that more every day, was acutely aware of it after everything that happened with Elijah. Honestly, sitting there in the hospital with you laying there asleep with nothing that he could do, but wait for you to wake up had been agony. Not to mention that looking at the bruises around your throat, over your eye, and the bright green cast only made him feel worse. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life and he hated it. Because Ben wasn't some helpless damsel in distress, he was a man and a man shouldn't wait on anyone or feel out of control, or at least, that's what he told himself.

Ben hears someone walk down the hallway outside the apartment and he perks up to listen, hoping that it's you finally coming home. Ben's mind stutters on the word "home." He'd lived many places in his life, apartments that felt more like way-stations, and the drafty cold mansion back in Philadelphia where he grew up, but neither felt like home. And although he hated how small your apartment was, it was the first place that Ben liked living in. He was starting to understand the word home.

But the feet keep moving past the apartment and Ben sinks into the couch cushions. Even Bean seems to be disappointed. "It's alright buddy." Ben mutters. "She'll come back."

But he wasn't sure.

Ben also wasn't used to feeling this way. It was close to the way that he felt when he went to Boston and was sitting in that damn hotel room waiting for something to happen and he still didn't understand what it meant. He didn't understand why he couldn't stand it that you weren't back yet. It made him feel like a woman waiting for her husband to get home from work when he told her that he was "running late." He'd tried to distract himself by looking at some possible prospects on Tinder, but just like the week after you'd come home from the hospital and just like the date he had in Boston, no one held any appeal.

His mind was awake and roaming around, pacing back and forth. The blunt was supposed to help, but it hadn't.

His phone chirps and Ben picks it up to look at the screen, but it's not you, it's Jake.

Jake: I know that I'm not your favorite person, but thank you for what you did.

Ben huffs and turns his phone face down on the couch once more. "What a fucking pussy."

When you left Ben had realized that Jake was still inside the building and as much as he wanted race after you, he understood that you'd be even more upset if you'd killed Jake. So Ben had tromped back through the building and found him trapped beneath some rubble. Jake was okay, just unconscious, but Ben had carried him out and put him on the sidewalk before he high tailed it out of there. The last thing that he wanted was to be caught with a shredded body outside a ruined building.

I didn't do it for him. I did it for her. Ben thinks to himself, looking down at the text message.

As much as he hated the thought of saving your future boyfriend, he didn't want to see what it did to you if you found out that you killed Jake, so he'd done it to avoid watching you cry again.

Ben didn't understand why he hated watching you cry.

Women cry. They're damn emotional all the time. He tries to reason with himself taking a puff from the blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. And she fucking cries way too much.

The image of you crying outside of the shop in the wake of everything that happened pricks something under his ribcage. Fuck.

Ben didn't feel remorse for what happened, well, the only thing he regretted was not getting there sooner and getting to fuck Darren up himself. When Diana had called him to tell him that Darren was coming, Ben had practically ripped the apartment door off in his haste to get back to you. He hadn’t wanted to leave you at the plant shop, but Butcher had told Ben, that he had a possible location for Darren, but it came up empty and Ben had been at Butcher's apartment chewing him out for sending him on a fucking wild goose chase.

It only made Ben more angry to allow Darren to speak to you, but he was trying to let you handle it even though he wanted to handle him. But it had brought him an unholy amount of joy to throw Darren in front of that minivan and to watch that creature tear him apart while the final whitish blue pulses of electricity jumped and crackled down the street making the streetlights shower sparks everywhere.

But Ben was more upset that Darren had been able to land a few hits on you before you killed him.

Ben remembered the giant lizard that crawled out of what was left of "Please Don't Die" and felt his lips quirk up into a smile. As much as he hated the entire situation, Ben couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride at what you'd done to your brother. He'd never seen you look so powerful standing there in the street, your eyes glowing a brilliant green, arms outstretched, and the ground trembling around you as the world begged to be unleashed.

Of course he'd been just as surprised as you were at the fact that you'd healed your broken arm. He wasn't sure if you'd noticed it yet, but you looked different too. There weren't as many lines on your face and your hair was more springy, the few silver hairs that Ben had noticed in passing were no longer there.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but there was something that felt suspiciously like hope tingling in his stomach, hope that you weren't as fragile anymore and hope that it meant you wouldn't die.

When Diana had told Ben that her husband had died, he saw the pain in her eyes when she said it, saw her relieving the memory, and for some reason as soon as she said that he was dead, the first thing Ben thought about was you. Ben hadn't considered his inability to age as much in the past, hadn't cared about outliving anyone before. Seeing Countess as an older woman had made him more aware of it. Looking at the woman who he once thought he loved, had showed him what that was like. Not that he had a problem with daring older women, Ben always thought that women really did get better with age, but it was what came next that Ben wasn't fond of.

And for some reason thinking that one day he'd wake up and see the marks of age on your face or one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't be able to annoy you or hear you yell at him made his chest tight.

Ben takes another hit of his blunt. The longer he sat there the more then unnatural feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach, thrumming through his veins, the feeling that he was trying to avoid. He thought that the joint would calm him down, but he found himself jumping at every creak and footstep in the apartment building, perking up each time and hoping that it was you coming home.

He didn't know where you were. You hadn't answered any of his texts or calls and Ben was ashamed at how many times that he had tried to call you.

Get a fucking grip. He'd thought to himself when he typed out another text message to send you, stopping himself from sending it.

But he'd been so desperate to hear from you that he'd actually gone to talk to Annie who seemed upset that she couldn't get ahold of you either. When Hughie and Annie had seen how upset Ben had been, Hughie had laid his hand on Ben's arm and told him not to worry. Ben had yelled at him that he "wasn't fucking worried and to mind his own business" and had shaken off Hughie's comforting hand before stomping out of the shared apartment.

No one else seemed to be as concerned about finding you. Butcher, MM, and Frenchie were all deeply involved in trying to figure out the cover-up for what happened outside the plant shop. By some miracle no one had caught a picture of your face, but there was little they could do about Darren's body that had been strewn across the street. Annie was having to deal with the repercussions at work, trying to handle what the news was calling a "super villain threat."

Personally, Ben thought that since they froze Homelander, the Seven looked weak and Ben believed that the superhero team that represented America shouldn't look weak. Of course before Ben had also thought that they looked like a bunch of pussies and again felt himself sink deeper into the couch when he thought about what his supposed son had become.

He shakes off the feelings he has about it and his thoughts turn back inevitably to you.

Ben wasn't used to thinking about someone as much as he thought of you, but each time he settled back into the apartment and you weren't there he was hyperaware of how quiet it was.

Maybe I should call Diana. She might know where she is.

As soon as Ben thinks that, his phone begins to ring, but Ben doesn't bother to look at who it is before he answers it. 

"Hello?" Ben huffs out a breath of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face, catching in the bluish light coming from the television.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice on the other side of the line yells at him.

"Di?"

"Yes it's me. Who did you think it was? Santa Clause?" Your grandmother snarks.

"Why are you calling me and why the fuck are you so mad? What did I do?" Ben answers slightly annoyed.

As much as you got under his skin, your grandmother had been the same way. He actually thought that it was amusing that even before he figured out that she was your grandmother that he had often compared you to her in his mind. You had the same mannerisms, the same defiant and stubborn attitude that drove Ben up the wall, and you were just as beautiful as she was.

Ben was okay with admitting that he was attracted to you. To him that felt normal, it was the other feelings that he was conflicted about, the ones that he'd never felt before stirring in his chest that made him feel "too emotional" and "woman-like."

Truthfully, Ben was sure that if your grandmother had given him a shot that maybe he would have felt that way about her too. She was the only person that Ben actually trusted in the 80's, the only person that was brave enough to call him out on all his shit. You did that now. But he liked her husband also, so Ben was content with letting her go. He liked how happy that Henry, your grandfather, had made her. He knew that she wasn't happy as a supe and seeing her so happy and in love made Ben feel something that was close to happiness.

And it was seeing the way the two of them were together made Ben wonder if what he had with Countess was the same thing. Because he did have feelings about her that were different, but each time he went to visit Diana and saw your father playing on her lap he felt that there was something missing in his life.

It was the same way that he thought something was missing when you weren't in the apartment, but Ben hadn't realized that yet.

"Because I don't understand what the hell you're doing!" Diana replies and Ben honestly doesn't know why she's angry with him.

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

Ben sits up the blunt in his fingertips forgotten. "Is she there with you?"

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

Ben relaxes and leans back onto the couch, sighing in relief. "Good.  That's good." Relief swelled in his chest when he thought about you staying with her, safe.

That's what she meant when she said that she wanted to go home. Home is with her grandmother. Ben stopped the next thought before he could go there.

The thought that home wasn't with him.

Ben was trying not to think about that or think about you hating him. He didn't think you did, well, didn't think you did anymore. At first it really was touch and go, but now he was almost eighty percent sure after you'd told him more than once that you weren't afraid of him and didn’t hate him that you sometimes wanted him around.

"No, not good."

"What do you mean? Is she okay?" Ben's grip on the phone tightens so hard that he's sure that he hears the screen cracking.

"No."

"What happened?" Ben's voice is a growl, the feelings of relief evaporating as soon as they had begun to bloom in his chest. He mentally calculated how long it would take him to get to you.

"Her entire life fucking fell apart and where are you? Not here!"

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

"I don't need to be there." He says on an exhale of smoke.

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

"No, I don't. She a big girl she doesn't need me there, she's-" Ben takes a puff from the joint.

“If you were any denser you’d be a Bundt cake Benjamin!” She says exasperated.

"What the fuck are you talking about doll? I am not-"

“Let me guess." She interrupts and Ben can imagine her tapping her foot. He hated when she did that. "You’re moping around smoking a blunt on the couch probably with a glass of something that you're hoping to numb whatever the hell it is you're feeling."

Ben's eyes shift to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table that he hadn't touched in a few minutes.

“I’m not fucking moping and stop spying on me!” He snaps back at Diana.

He hated how well she knew him. She was his best friend in the 80's through all the shit, she had seen him at his worst and at his best too many times to count.

“I don’t have to use my powers to know what you’re doing. I know you Ben.”

"Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart.” Ben grits his teeth, temper flaring hot. “But if you know me as well as you fucking say you do then you then you know that this is-“

“You avoiding your feelings by acting aloof and brooding like a fucked up version of Mr. Darcy.” She interrupts.

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

“She needs you here Ben.” Diana stamps her foot, the same way you do when Ben pisses you off, and Ben can hear it.

“She doesn’t need me! She said that she wanted to go home, that she didn’t want to be here with me! I tried to-“ Ben shouts back standing up. It was the exact thing that he'd been thinking for the past twenty four hours, that you didn’t need him and that you didn't want to be any where near him.

That last thought made an uncomfortable sensation prickle in his gut when he thought it, because all it did was remind him of how you acted when the two of you first met, when you didn't want him to live with you and tried your darndest to make him go away.

He didn’t want to and he wasn't sure why that was.

“Try harder.” Diana interrupts him again and frankly it was pissing him off.

Ben clenches his jaw. “I think that you’ve confused me with someone else baby.”

“Don’t you 'baby' me Benjamin! We both know that you’re doing what you always do when things get hard for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You pretend not to care and shut out everyone who tries to care for you. Not to mention you drown yourself in drugs, booze, and women.”

“She doesn’t care about me!” He spits.

“She does!” Diana snaps back. “And believe it or not she needs you here and she wants you here.”

"But-"

"Ben please." It was the first time that he'd heard Diana sound softer and almost pleading since the conversation started. "Don't do this to her. She's worth more than Countess and all those other women you've fallen into bed with."

"Do you really think I don't know that?" He roars. The answer surprises himself. "Do you think I don't know that she's different?"

Wait what?

"If you know that, then why aren't you here?"

He hesitates.

Everything you said to him the night of the party comes roaring back. You looking beautiful in a dress that made his throat tight, and you telling him that you just wanted to be friends and that you understood that he wasn't the type of guy to have relationships. He didn't understand why it stung a bit when you said that, but it had.

Ben thinks about the week that the two of you spent together after Diana went home, when he tried his best to take care of you, distract you from everything that happened with his movies, and would sit with you and try to make you laugh. He'd never wanted to take care of someone before.

Not to mention he kind of liked the way you laughed. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but each time you did, it made him want to laugh too. That had never happened to him before. But he wanted to make you laugh to forget everything that happened with Elijah. His fist clenches when he thinks of exactly what Elijah tried to do to you and it makes him feel so mad that he feels close to spontaneously combusting. Ben might not be the best role model when it came to women, but he couldn’t imagine the type of man who would force himself on someone else.

It had made him angry when he thought that you were suggesting that he would try something when he first moved in, because he wasn't that type of man.

Ben was trying to be better for you. He wasn't admitting that, but he really was trying to be better. He didn't understand why. You'd told him countless times that you didn’t want to be with him, that you wanted to be with someone else like Jake.

Ben frowns when he thinks about the man he'd pulled from the rubble of the shop. And again thinks to himself that you should be with someone different, someone who was a supe and could understand you. Ben had seen how difficult it was for Diana when she was keeping her supe life a secret from your grandfather and he didn't want you to have to do that with someone.

"Because I'm not-" Ben begins to say, but he holds his tongue. It was too honest, too raw, too unlike him to admit this to anyone.

Because I'm not this guy. Because I'm not the one she wants. Because I'm not some knight on a white horse. Because she's everything right with the world and I'm just a fucking asshole who sleeps on her couch.

"Ben." Diana breathes and he can practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. "In all the years I've known you, you've never done what you did for her with anyone else. You carried her out of that warehouse, you stayed with her in the hospital even after she woke up, you took care of her when she came home, you protected her from Darren. You can't ignore all those things."

"I'm not ignoring them. She's my friend." The word sours in his mouth as he says it. "And she would have done the same thing for me." He knew it was true.

She's a good person and she wouldn't let me chase her away if any of that shit happened to me and I told her to leave me alone.

"Yes she would. Because she cares about you." Diana sighs.

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because she's told me what she wants!" Ben shouts so loudly he can feel the room shaking. "She wants to be friends-“

"Because she doesn't think that you want a relationship you nitwit!"

"I don't." Ben spits the words before he can stop them, but as he does something tightens at the base of his throat.

"How is it that it's been forty fucking years and you're still able to dance on the grave of my last nerve?"

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

She sighs into the phone again making it crackle in Ben's ear. "She needs you.” Diana repeats. “And I think you need her too.”

His temper was flaring again, the thoughts that his father pressed into him surging up before he can stop the words. “I don’t need anyone. I’m Sol-“

“If you say that you’re Soldier Boy, I’m going to reach through this phone and slap you silly.” She snaps. “And you do need her, but you’re still just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I-“

“Ben I know that everything that happened with Countess was fucked up, but my granddaughter she-“ Diana pauses before she changes the thought.  “You say that you know she’s different, but right now you’re treating her the same way you treat all those other women.”

“I’m not-“

“My granddaughter has decided you’re important to her and once that’s happened it’s hard to make her let go. You saw the way she was with Darren and that guy was a manipulative asshole. Imagine what she thinks of you.”

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” Ben shouts.

“And I don’t need to! Think what you want Ben but if you’d stop acting so stubborn and so ridiculously blind to what’s right in front of you. I promise that what comes next is worth the risk.”

“Don’t go all fucking mystical on me doll.”

“And don’t go all macho- no feelings asshole on me! So stop being so damn stubborn, get on a plane and get your ass here.” She retorts. “Don’t fuck this up Benjamin because if you do I’ll fuck you up.”

The line goes dead.

Ben sat there for a minute in the silence still holding the phone up to his ear, listening to what your grandmother said to him ring around in his head for a second.

No one ever spoke to him that way. In fact, Ben had never allowed anyone to speak to him the way that she did, well, not until you came along. You reminded him so much of her that it was astounding and he wasn't going to admit that maybe it's why he liked being around you so much.

Ben frowns at what Diana said, thinking about the unusual feelings that were swirling in the pit of his stomach. He felt wrong and the feelings were odd for him. He hadn't felt anything remotely like this ever in his life, not even for Countess.

And although Ben refused to be afraid of anything, the feelings he was having scared him. He didn’t understand and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He wasn't sure that he wanted to see where this ended up. He felt like he was in too deep.

As much as he wanted to go to you like Diana ordered him to, he wasn't sure that he should. Something was holding him back, digging it's heels in and refusing to budge.

But why do I feel like-

His phone rings and he doesn't look at the caller ID when he picks up, expecting it to be Diana again, yelling at him.

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

"Hello Ben. It's nice to hear your voice again." The familiar voice says, sounding calm and collected.

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben snarls.

 "I thought it was time the two of us had a chat.”

A/N: At this point Diana is really just trying to give both Ben and the reader the kick in the pants they need. And yes I know another cliffhanger, but you know you love it. 🤭😉 We are quickly reaching the end of this series, but that means the confession scene is coming and I am so excited about it!!

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

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@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

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@pixviee @filmologetica @yvonneeeee @c1nnamong1rl29 @kmc1989

@livya99 @cherrygirl444

[iveneverdoneanythingwrong]

Liveblogging Man Suang

First things first - outrage at Not-Mile who dares put his hands on Apo. Who the fuck do you think you- oh good, he's dead. Though, this is obviously something Khem expects and is used to. The touching, not the murder.

Wan, leave that knife in. Wan, don't take that knife out. Okaaaay, he took the knife out. Khem, at least don't be holding the murder weapon when- *sigh* never mind. Jesus fuck, Khem and Wan are not the sharpest crayons in the box, are they?

"You were caught red handed next to my nephew's body!" Only literally! I mean, technically correct. And in this instance, not the best kind of correct. :(

I love the costuming

Ohh hellooooo. Also, girrrl what are YOU doing at the devil's sacrament?

You met him thirty seconds ago and you're already showing him your pussy? Chatra, you slut.

Hey. HEY! Lord Not-Chatra. Stop looking at him like that. I swear, Khem is to higher-social-standing men like Will Graham is to serial killers. Where's the Chesapeake Chatra when you need him?

Montage time!

Khem. Sweetie. Honey. You need to be more subtle if you're going to be a spy....

Apo is so pretty when he cries. 😭

YEAH YOU TELL HIM KHEM! Calling out the double standards! Also, that dude is totes jealous he didn't catch Lord Not-Chatra's attention...

Chatra gives you one warning and then it's a FIST TO THE FACE.

Are they on a date? They're totally on a date.

This is a very important secret. So I'm telling you, a guy I've spoken to four times, on our first date, at a table at the corner of an intersection with open doors and people all around. Very important. Top Secret.

I love the sheer disappointment and disbelief in Khem's voice. Khem: A treasure trove? Really? That's what you're going with? Chatra: Why are you laughing?

Khem, you're such a hothead. You got into a KITE FIGHT. But it is a great excuse for Chatra to grope your waist. Well done.

At least Khem tells his secret up a tree and not on a LITERAL STREET CORNER.

Can't rid yourself of being a lowborn? *looks at the camera like it's The Office*

Me: I'm laughing with Khem cause a treasure map is stupid. Me five minutes later: wait, you bought that??? Chatra: Wait, he bought that? Oh man, this pretty idiot desperately needs my help...

Me (And Chatra definitely): My god, look at his face transform into a smile... do it again! again!

Khem: I have something to tell you... .... ... I've invited Chatra to join our missionWAN:ARE YOUFUCKING CRAZY???

I love the reconstruction sequence. That's some good storytelling.

HAHAHAHAHA "If you don't believe me, feel free to search my rooms!" Wan: Oh...I don't think that's nec- Chatra: DON'T MIND IF I DO. "Maybe you need to search me. I'll undress" Khem: NO THANK YOU WE'RE GOOD.

Ok... do you think that's enough food for three people? I think we might need to get another table of food in here...

What.... what are you doing Chatra. Like... my man has to have a good reason to point a gun at Khem... but there are no good reasons to point a gun at Khem.... but my man has to have a good reason to....KHEM LET HIM EXPLAIN

Ahhh Hong, I knew he wasn't dead. I knew it! I did! Oooh an assassin's teapot. Nice.

Yeah, old man! I agree!

Goddamned Apo is so goddamned pretty.

Oh damn. Risking your life to save your friend... and ending up having to kill him yourself. What a gut punch.

Aww Chatra. I'm not crying, you're crying!

Where's the series? I need the series now! Where is ittttttt???? 😭😭😭😭😭 You can't leave my boys like this!! 😭😭😭

[dailykugisaki]

Day 223 | id in alt

Maki thinking some very unsorcererly things over a piece of damn cheesecake.

(Read from right to left💥)

[drunk-person]

Training Yard

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: One of Y/n's most common habits is admiring her husband's training every day. On a particularly hot day, the jealousy of the other ladies makes her achieve everything she has been dreaming of for a long time..

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, swords being used inappropriately, jealousy sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, no description for reader.

Word cont: 2.800 k

Author's note: Okay, I think those gifs and images with a special focus on Aemond's sword changed the chemistry of my brain, and from that change this one short was born. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

When Y/n was promised to Aemond and traveled with her family to Kings landing to meet him the first time she saw him was at the training camp. He was brandishing a sword and fighting like a demon. The look of concentration on his face, the way he moved fluidly, the sweat that dripped down his forehead, all of it caught Y/n's attention and made her thighs press together in a way she hadn't understood at the time.

Even in her homeland when the marriage was announced, everyone told her that Prince Aemond was a great warrior, but nothing had prepared her for that. It didn't take long for both of them to get married and gradually build their own daily routine. Y/n, just as her husband woke up very early, and they both had breakfast together, soon after Aemond left for the training yard. And Y/n couldn't even say when it became such a recurring habit to watch her husband training every morning. But she could definitely say that it was one of her favorite parts of the day.

Y/n now knew what that pressure between her thighs meant when she saw her husband in the training yard. She knew even better. And even after almost twelve moons of marriage, she still felt the same feeling whenever she saw him. Today in particular the day was particularly hot, as it was the middle of summer, and even though she was wearing a lighter dress Y/n could still feel the sweat running down between her breasts and down her back as she fanned herself with a fan.

She admired her husband's every move downstairs as he fought with Sir Criston, and she couldn't help but bite her lip gently as she watched him grip the hilt of his sword tightly. Y/n could see that Aemond was sweating wearing all those layers of clothes, his silver hair was damp with sweat, and it was to her great surprise that he had an attitude that she would never have expected. He took off his doublet and opened the thin shirt he was wearing underneath, she sighed when he saw the scene, but the contentment soon passed when she noticed that the other ladies of the court were looking at her husband like hungry dogs would look at a piece of meat.

Y/n gritted her teeth angrily as she held tightly to the wooden support of the balcony, as she thought about how lovely it would be to be able to throw one of them from above. And with her eyes sparkling, she barely waited for the fight to end before going down to the courtyard and approaching where Aemond was.

As soon as Aemond disarmed Sir Cole, causing his sword to be thrown a long distance, and placed his own sword against the older man's throat, the audience applauded happily. But no Y/n, she was smarter than doing something so trivial. And with that in mind she pretended to drop the green fan with gold embroidery that she used to fan herself and relieve the heat.

Aemond immediately bent down, picking up the fan from the floor and handing it into her hands, touching her skin in public even if quickly as he placed the fan back between Y/n's hands.

— Thank you very much husband. — She spoke softly, looking at him from beneath her long eyelashes, already opening the fan again, while she gently bit her lip.

—You're welcome wife. — He replied, looking lightly at the drops of sweat that fell down his wife's neckline, when she intelligently guided his gaze there using the fan. —I see that you are also feeling very hot.

—Well, I told you not to go out in such heavy clothes today, if you had listened to me maybe you wouldn't be walking around practically naked in public. — She spoke only for Aemond to hear, curving his eyebrows and wrinkling his nose, while he looked at her with that ironic smile that made her want to jump on him, to kill him or other things.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, my prince, the weather is very hot. — And she turned around, closing the fan and walking away without even looking back, already knowing that it wouldn't be long before he would follow her to the bedroom. Aemond always got a little wild after training, with her teasing him he knew he would want her.

As she passed the court ladies, Y/n made a point of smiling arrogantly before heading inside the fortress. Aemond was her husband, only hers and no one else's. And still with her body tense with jealousy and desire, she entered the dark corridor to get to her own rooms faster. But before she could walk two meters she felt someone covering her mouth with their hand while pulling her firmly around the waist. Y/n screamed muffledly as she struggled, until the soft voice came in her ear.

—Easy, my princess.

Hearing Aemond's voice her whole body instantly relaxed, even as he dragged her into an even darker corner and pinned her firmly against the wall of a cramped alcove.

—What did you think you were doing? — He spoke with an irritated voice against her hair while holding her. — Looking at me like that in public, practice begging me to fuck you.

—Well, maybe I wanted to show some unsuspecting people that Prince Aemond has already been married for almost a year before they jump on you! —Y/n practically growled the words in annoyance, and it became even worse when she felt Aemond laughing against her neck.

—So that's what this is about? —He asked in a mocking voice. — Jealousy.

—I'm not jealous. — She replied grumpily, still pressed against the wall.

—Oh no, you are burning with. — He smiled at the realization.

—You know that my only eye is only for you, wife. — He said kissing her neck from behind. — Just for you.

—You think I don't see the way you look every morning when you watch me train. — He whispered, nibbling on her neck. — That I don't watch the way you bite your lip every time I grip the sword hilt. — He bit her earlobe as he said that while pressing himself against her clothed ass, making her gasp.

And without warning he pulled the strings of her dress violently while Y/n's eyes widened in shock as they were almost in the middle of a hallway. The flowing dress fell at her feet and Y/n felt herself blushing for being practically naked in that place.

—Aemond, what if someone shows up? —She spoke fearfully.

—Should you have thought about that before. —He said, pulling her small clothes down and stripping her completely naked while he trailed wet kisses down her back. Suddenly she felt Aemond turn her around and push her in the other direction, lifting her off the floor and sitting her on a small sideboard, knocking over a vase that was previously on top.

—Aemond! —She reprimanded him, but was interrupted when he pressed his lips to hers while holding her thighs, caressing them and keeping them open. He trailed kisses from her lips to her neck, and from her neck to her soft breasts where he feasted on licking and sucking like he knew Y/n liked. And little by little, the caresses that were on her thighs moved up towards her throbbing core, which panted in anticipation every time Aemond's fingers got closer to where she needed him most.

—Husband… —She whimpered when he rubbed two fingers against her wetness.

—So wet for me. — He said, looking down at her, still paying attention to her breasts.

—I need you inside me. — She begged with a needy voice while Aemond slowly massaged her pearl, and she saw the gleam of malice in his eyes as he shook his head.

—No, you don't deserve to get what you want. —Aemond gently pinched her pearl, making her moan and lightly bite her own hand to muffle the noise. — You were such a negligent wife, leaving in the middle of my training, making me have to drop everything and come to you.

—No, you deserve something else. — He said, pulling her and making her almost scream in surprise as he turned her around and leaned over the small sideboard.

Y/n listened as Aemond unbuckled his belt and raised her eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what he would do. But the realization came soon after when she felt something cold against her hot and wet intimacy, panting immediately afterwards.

—I noticed some time ago the way you always look at my sword when you think I'm not looking. — Aemond said while lightly brushing the handle of the sheathed sword against Y/n's intimacy, who pressed her eyes firmly while biting her lips in disbelief that this was really happening.

And without warning he penetrated the first part of the handle into her wet pussy, making her squirm with pleasure and bite her own arm to keep from moaning when she felt the cold metal against her hot skin. Aemond watched ecstatically as the rounded part of the handle was swallowed whole while Y/n moaned and panted with pleasure, he waited a few moments before pushing the rest in and no longer moving it letting her adapt to the size, while he smiled at the sight of his wife squirm, leaking more and more against the handle of the sword.

—Husband… —She begged, looking back with her face wet with tears and her lips red from biting them so much. — Husband, please. —Aemond smiled maliciously, but did not move the sword even an inch. —Aemond, I'm begging you. — She cried rubbing herself against the hilt of the sword.

—Look at you, my dear wife. —He said caressing her moist lips with his finger. —Begging like a real whore.

Y/n immediately nodded, leaning towards him for a kiss, which Aemond didn't have the courage to refuse. And in the middle of the wet and breathless kiss he moved the handle of the sword, thrusting firmly against Y/n's pussy, making her almost scream against his lips while digging her nails into her husband's neck. Aemond smiled against her lips and little by little he picked up speed, in a constant back and forth that made Y/n shiver with pleasure and lose control about one's own body.

She felt like she was going to collapse at any moment, the feeling of the metal filling her making her feel things she had never imagined before. The wet, filthy sound filling the air and the idea of ​​anyone walking by and seeing Aemond doing this to her made her even wetter if that was possible. Heat flooded her entire body and the smell of sweat filled the small alcove at that moment. Y/n did her best to remain silent, but it was almost impossible not to moan her husband's name and beg him to give her more, feeling on the verge of climax.

—Maybe you want them all to listen. — Aemond spoke in a hoarse and low voice close to her ear while sucking her earlobe. —Let them all hear you moan like a little whore while I fuck you with the hilt of my sword.

Y/n couldn't take it anymore, it was like everything inside her broke at once and she came against the hilt of her husband's sword shaking and whimpering as she squirmed and tried to hold on to the small sideboard. Her legs were shaking like jelly and she could barely stand, the feeling of her husband pulling the sword hilt out of her almost made her scream from overstimulation.

Aemond smiled with satisfaction as he pulled the hilt of the sword from inside Y/n, seeing it covered in the white fluids and liquids that came from his wife's pleasure, he never failed to be impressed by the fact that she became even more beautiful destroyed with pleasure. And still smiling, admiring the mess between her legs, he untied the drawstrings of his pants and pulled his own dick out, stroking it a few times and then rubbing it against her moist folds.

Y/n thought she was going to faint from the feeling of being filled again, but now completely. She was so sensitive after her first orgasm that it was as if Aemond was everywhere, and she couldn't help but grind against him for more.

—Always so good and eager for me.— Aemond praised her as he fucked her harder and harder and caressed her hips and breasts. —Such a good and wet cunt.

—You don't need to be jealous, wife, the only one I live for is you, no one else. — He said, sucking her neck and leaving a kiss there while Y/n whimpered and agreed, looking for his lips anxiously.

The two kissed eagerly and Aemond gained even more strength in his thrusts, and when Y/n was on the verge of orgasm again, footsteps sounded in the hallway and Aemond stopped his movements while covering her mouth, signaling for his wife to stay quiet.

Aemond then took advantage of the pause by withdrawing from inside her and turning her to face him and when the steps were far enough away he kissed her again hungrily, and already penetrating her once again with force. Y/n in turn brought her hands to his face, pulling him more and more towards her, wanting to feel every little part of him against her, and she barely noticed when the eye patch fell to the floor, only noticing when they both separated from the kiss. and the shine of the sapphire was present in the dark alcove, making her sigh with contentment at the sight.

—Husband, I want you so much. — She sighed, pulling him into another kiss, feeling closer and closer to the edge with each thrust from Aemond, and feeling him accelerate, she came against his cock, crying and moaning while putting her head in the gap between his neck and shoulder.

—I love you husband, I love you so much. —She whimpered, leaving kisses on his neck, and hearing his wife say those words while feeling her pussy milking him, Aemond came deeply inside her, shuddering and calling his wife's name with his face contorted with pleasure.

Y/n made a point of lifting her head to see the scene before her, in her opinion there was nothing as beautiful in that world as Aemond's face, the only thing that could compare was Aemond's face after the climax.

She caressed his face gently while she felt him massaging her waist with his fingertips still inside her, both still panting, a few moments later Aemond came out of her and lovingly helped her get dressed.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, husband. —Y/n said visibly tired, and at the same moment Aemond's look changed and he shook his head.

—Oh no you won't.—He said holding her face between his hands firmly looking her in the eyes while speaking in a slightly hoarse voice. — Now you're going to go back there, sit like the obedient and devoted wife you are with my seed running down your legs and watch the rest of the training, knowing that my sword is full of your cunt juice.

—But husband... — She said with wide eyes.

—As I've told you a few times, wife, we must think about the consequences before acting. —He said, replacing his eye patch and fixing his own clothes with a smile.

—If you're lucky, there will only be you up there at that time.

He then fastened the belt with the sword back around his waist and Y/n could see the hilt still glistening with her fluids, and felt her face burn with embarrassment.

—I will never need a tournament favor again as long as I carry this sword. —Aemond said mockingly, looking at her and Y/n rolled her eyes angrily, since her husband didn't even participate in tournaments.

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[gubsbuubs]

Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

[ssahotchnerr]

Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."

[jointherebellion215]

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood. 

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.” 

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid. 

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

[writingquestionsanswered]

how do i make my writing more ‘mature’? i always feel like no matter how sophisticated i write and no matter every which way i change it up it always has a sense of being childish or juvenile.

Making Writing Sound More Mature

1 - Better Plot and Story Structure - One of the telltale signs of juvenile writing is a story that meanders, has no obvious plot or structure, has no conflict or has a protagonist with no goal. So, make sure you have a well fleshed out plot, with a conflict, protagonist goal, and which hits the beats specific to your story's genre.

2 - Three-Dimensional Characters - If you're writing plot-driven fiction, make sure your main characters have a fleshed out personality, stakes, motivation, goal, and compelling relationships with other characters. If you're writing fully or partially character-driven fiction, do all of the above, but also make sure your main characters have a relevant internal conflict and a thoughtful character arc.

3 - Well-Developed Setting and World - One common hallmark of juvenile writing is a lack of "sense of place" and under-developed world building. So, make sure you put a lot of thought into where your story takes place... not just the immediate setting of each scene, but the overall world of the story, or at least the parts of it that are relevant.

4 - Incorporate Literary Devices - Juvenile writing tends to be lacking in the use of metaphor, simile, symbolism, irony, themes, and motifs. So, make sure to include those, but also take the time to make them relevant to your story.

5 - Include a Broad Range of Vocabulary - One common element of juvenile writing is a reliance on limited, simple vocabulary. Don't be afraid to use a thesaurus to find more interesting word choices--just be absolutely certain to crosscheck your choices with a dictionary to make sure they are the right choice. Online thesauruses in particular are bad about offering up bad suggestions. Also, make sure to learn and use special vocabulary that is relevant to your story, genre, or setting. For example, if your character is a retired police detective trying to solve a murder on his stalled cruise to Alaska, you need to make sure you know the proper investigative terminology, because he will definitely use it. And, by that same token, you'd want to make sure you know cruise ship lingo as well. And, part of this, too, is getting better at description and the inclusion of emotional and sensory detail.

6 - Use Varied Sentence Structure - This is a big one... juvenile writing tends to use repetitive sentence structure, such as simple sentences (she stood up, she went to the window, she waved at the man), lack of subordinate clauses (Tad Smith, who was a seasoned and retired investigator, had looked forward to this cruise his whole life...), repetitive starts (every sentence begins with a pronoun, for example), uniform length (all short sentences, for example.) So, make sure your sentences are varied. If you read them out loud, you don't want it to sound rhythmic, but more like a complex melody.

7 - Show, Don't Tell... Most of the Time - Telling definitely has its place, but most of the time you want to show rather than tell, meaning that instead of stating things simply and directly (the sun was shining) you want to paint a clear but indirect image (dappled sunlight shone through the trees.)

8 - Avoid Cliche Phrases - Human language is littered with everyday phrases like "to each their own" or "better late than never." Generally-speaking, you want to avoid these phrases in your story, especially in exposition. If you include them anywhere, they're best spoken as dialogue by a character who it makes sense would say something like that. Likewise, be careful of cliche genre or character-type phrases. For example, villains who say things like "we're not so different, you and I..." or "I finally have you right where I want you!" These overused phrases tend to make stories sound juvenile and unpolished.

9 - Avoid Cliche Tropes - Another type of cliche to avoid if you want more mature-sounding writing is cliches of various tropes. Tropes on their own are a good thing, but when tropes are used the same way over and over again in a genre or type of story, they become predictable. For example, the super gorgeous protagonist who everyone is in love with, but they view themselves as plain and not special. Or the broken/hopeless/addict mentor character. It's not that you can't use any cliche tropes at all, just make sure your story isn't riddled with them, and do what you can to put your own spin on the ones you do use.

10 - Read, Read, Read - And I can't stress this enough... the absolute best way to improve your writing style and take your writing from juvenile to polished is to make sure you're reading a lot of fiction, in a lot of genres, by a lot of authors. Audio books, short stories, and poetry count, too. The more you read, the more you begin to: understand plot and story structure, recognize well-developed characters, easily envision complex settings and worlds, learn vocabulary and literary devices, become attuned to varied sentence structure, and learn to recognize cliche phrases and tropes.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[quinngefail]

Um. So

Wanted to do an inverse of that last drawing set, and the initial plan was for this one to also have an overall goofy tone. But I couldn't think of ways to spin humor into this one (save for the last image) given what I wanted to touch on, so...

I guess here's some divulgence of my post-bathroom-trap Lawrence characterization, but with a weird juxtaposition between Writing and Visuals because I still ended up using the Little Guy art style HRKGKG...

And same as Adam's post, if my writing is difficult to read, it's all in text form in the image descriptions! ^_^

I feel rather self-conscious about this one overall. But y’know, fuck it man. We're posting it regardless

More thoughts under the cut:

So basically... In my mind's eye, this is a man who has developed an extremely guilty conscious following the bathroom trap, and is now hyper aware of the consequences of his actions. He's been separated from his family, and is desperately determined not to fail anyone else; something that especially applies to Adam, and their relationship in general. And despite Adam having long forgiven him for what happened in the bathroom trap and making it very clear that 'I don't hate you, I could never hate you', Lawrence just cannot internalize this, and constantly has this 'it's the least I can do for you after everything I've done' sort of mentality towards far too many things in regards to Adam.

While also having serious bouts of that whole "You're just manipulating him so you can get your cheap validation and feel good about yourself-"

I'll elaborate more when I write my full thoughts out because there is SO MUCH MORE I could talk about but. FOR NOW THIS IS AN INTRODUCTION TO MY SICK AND TWISTED BRAINROT 🙌

Okay and like the overall tone on Adam's drawing set may have indeed been more goofy, but DON'T GET IT TWISTED that is not my perpetual approach to the way I think about + want to depict his struggles and all that. It was just certainly easier to throw comedy into his pieces lmao. And I've also got a whole lot more to elaborate on with him and his 20 million issues </3

And then lastly!! With the final image it's like I IMAGINE LAWRENCE DOESN'T GET AS CAUGHT UP IN BEING EMBARRASSED OVER BEING ROMANTICALLY CHEESY AND SHIT but y’know. Sometimes you're saying "what's cookin', good lookin'," to your boyfriend with no problem. But other times your brain crafts up "MI ADAM-ORE" and you just have to take a step back after actually going through with saying that one. And have your moment of regretting your every life choice. Y’know

Once they both realize + embrace how cringe + cheesy + corny they truly are. It'll be all over

That's all lol thank you for reading 👉👈

[mrsnancywheeler]

midnight rain // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: finnick had pulled the plug on your relationship long ago, when he could no longer keep from you what he'd been forced into. but after you've returned victorious from your games, he knows you need him as the nightmares come for you each time you close your eyes.

chapter two

sequel

warnings: descriptions of gore, violence, character death, hurt/comfort, allusions to trafficking, secrets, inaccurate timeline, finnick might be ooc idk I'm not good at telling lmao, part one ??, unedited, ANGST, fluff, no use of y/n, pet names like angel and my love, the title will make more sense when I get all my ideas out in the possible next part, so long, I'm so sorry

2.9k words

Waking up in his arms is what saved you, every night when you were thrown back into that arena shivering in the cold, the warmth of him wrapped around you would guide you back to safety.

Safety.

Did you even have that? Comments made in passing by former victors and my Finnick’s attitude made your stomach turn. What truly lay ahead for you post the games? You couldn't focus on that yet though, right now you'd just have the muster up the courage to finish up the grand Victory Tour. Your reward for losing your humanity, for the blood staining your hands.

Finnick grumbled into your shoulder as he began waking from his own so-called rest, which you could only imagine became more torturous as time went on. Or not, maybe you'd become more numb to it as the present forced itself onto you rather than the ghosts of the past. Sunlight streamed down on his bronze skin, he nearly shimmered. It was as if the gods knew he deserved to be blessed with something for all the tribulations he faced.

“I'm supposed to be the one watching you sleep." His saccharine voice filled your senses like honey, the sound of sleep adding a rasp, in the mornings he was like honey and toast.

“Sorry I couldn't resist your charms and I didn't want to disturb your rest, golden boy." You smiled as he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Your rest is much more important, it's your Victory Tour. You've got people to face and impress, be the Capitol’s Princess." He said it with a smile you could melt for, but behind his tone you could sense bitterness. Unsaid words he wasn't ready to reveal to you, something that had broken you apart one, and then led him back to you, into his warmth.

“Finnick-" It was a hidden tone that terrified you. What had he been keeping locked behind those honey-dripping, sweet-talking lips for so long? When would he hand you the golden encrusted key to his secrets?

“Come on you need to get dressed, angel. You have impressions to make.” He didn't want to talk about it, he knew when you were trying to pry and wasn't ready to reveal what he kept hidden. You did need to get ready though, today was District 7, the allies you'd had to betray. Just the thought of it made you want to retreat further into the warmth of the bed, the blankets, of his arms but he was unwrapping himself from you without another word.

Maybe if he couldn't tell you were trying to make him reveal things he would be slower and gentler about preparing you for what lay ahead, but he didn't want to stare into your pleading eyes and spill his secrets. Which is why he'd torn himself from your love in the first place.

"Stay on the script, you did what you had to do to survive. Charm, but it's not the families you're doing it for, it's them.” Them, the Capitol, eagerly awaiting your filmed performance. You nodded as Finnick wrapped his robe around himself. He made no eye contact as he left the train car and you felt yourself running cold. You were alone again, with your thoughts, soon your Capitol assigned team of designers would be here to dress you up like a paper doll.

You were frail and delicate, but lethal when it came down to it. Your tears were iconic for fragile femininity, but manipulation to win against those with stronger senses. An image you still needed to abide by, even if you'd rather lay down and fall into your head for eternity, punishing yourself for it all.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

There he stood, face firm as he readied the hatchet to slice straight through your brain.

“Birch, you don't really want me dead. We don't have to turn on each other, we can talk about it." You reasoned, tears brimming your eyelids.

“Why? Like how you were planning to talk to him about it too?" Birch nodded to the lifeless body nearby.

“He attacked me!" You defended, that would be the argument. The sweet tribute who had such a big heart, but did what she needed to survive.

“Because he knew you were trying to use him, sorry we couldn't all fall for your charms. All of us have homes, families to go back to. Of course I don't want you dead, but they need me.” He was pleading too and if you looked hard enough you could swear he was about to cry. Before you could say another word the hatchet flew from his hand and you dodged it just in time. Birch began sprinting towards you. If he got his arms around you there was no doubt he could snap your neck in a split second. His strength was one of the reasons he was such a good pick to ally with.

You were unsteady on your feet as you ran away, fumbling for something to throw, to block his advances. The hatchet had lodged itself into the ground not far from you, he knew you were going for it and the adrenaline was speeding him up. You grabbed it, stumbling forward as soons as it was within your grasp, turning forward. He was so close and paused a second. You'd be more dangerous close by then at a distance now, he'd helped you practice throwing different weapons in training which you were decent at. Decent enough to be a threat, decent enough that he regretted it, decent enough that you regretted it too, using his kindness to win against him.

But this was all too slow, he needed to either win or lose. So he gave up on the reason and barreled forward. You barely had enough time to think as you pounded forward as well, slicing into him, not deep enough to kill, but enough to injure, for him to stumble back a second. You didn't have time to take a second and thrusted the hatchet straight into his chest, definitely deep enough to kill. The sight of the blood trickling down his bottom lip as he fell backward blurred your vision. She was still left, you didn't have time to feel guilty yet you did.

“Mom, Laurel-” He choked out before he went completely stiff and the cannon rang out. Flashes of his mom and his little, 10 year old sister, shivering and shaking by her mother and his image stared with cold eyes at you. Giving your grand speech about his bravery and next thing you knew you were screaming.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Hey, hey it's okay. You're not there, you're right here. I've got you." Warm hands shook your shoulders as you woke with sobs wracking through your body.

That's the problem you thought your mind was racing awake, he had people to take care of you had selfishly picked your family over his, over all of there's.

“I know, I know, I've got you." Finnick enveloped you within his arms as you let your tears streak down his shoulder.

“How am I supposed to look at them, Finnick? How am I supposed to congratulate them for their child’s bravery when I took their babies away from them?” Your voice was creaky and louder than you'd expected.

He pulled you off his shoulder, facing you, his sea green eyes pouring into yours. “With a smile, this isn't about them, or for them. This is for Snow, you're still playing the game. I can't tell you it gets better, but you have to remember he's watching and you need to follow his rules." You nodded robotically, the old Finnick would have comforted you more. But, this Finnick was still recovering too and he was doing his job as a mentor. Keeping you safe from the vultures and their outrage if you didn't play the Capitol’s Princess good enough.

“Can you stay?" You whispered, even though he always did.

“Of course, angel." He pressed his warm lips to your forehead, engulfing you within his arms. You lay with him knowing if you fell back asleep with images of her family would echo within your soul, haunting your dreams. Finnick would ground you back, his comfort would stop you from screaming in the real world, keep your protected, but not the flashes of what you'd done. “You need to sleep, you have to do it all again tomorrow."

“I know." You wiped down a stray tear streaking down your face. He looked serene in the moonlight glow even if his eyes spoke a different tale. One of worry, one wondering how much longer until the waterfall poured himself out to you. “Finnick, I know things aren't the same between us, they haven't been, and I don't know if you even want them to be. But please, please don't ever leave me. I need you, to keep me from just floating completely away. To remind me why I won."

Your choppy voice broke his heart even more, he didn't know how much longer he could do this to you. He wanted to be as he had been for you, but the chains bore too heavy right now. There was too much on your plate to add more brutality to it.

“I would never even consider it, angel. I felt selfish for it, but you keep me grounded too. I'm sorry I'm doing this to you." His voice was softer than usual, wasn't as teasing, it was so pure, so lost.

“You're not selfish, Finnick. I know you've always just wanted to keep me safe, even if I don't know from what and you can tell me in your own time. I'll wait for you to come back to me."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. You were so sweet, so in need of his protection. He couldn't let them do to you as they did to him, but there was nothing he could do to protect you except keep it away as long as possible.

“You need to try and rest, sweet girl." You hummed in response, knowing that wouldn't happen.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Just you and me then." Her voice was always so rich, accented and friendly but strong. It was like dark chocolate, with a hint of caramel and raspberries. But now, it was exhausted. You'd trusted her more then anyone else, related to her even if your tactics were different. Even when the men had tried to split up as if it was District against District. Really they'd just been trying to get the two “weaker" girls out of the way so they could fight it out amongst themselves. Marlowe had been much too smart for that though. She'd fled from Birch the moment she sensed his demeanor change.

You'd both silently hoped the other would be dead, so that it wouldn't come to this. You and Marlowe fighting for your lives, your families, all as a silly little dance, a pageant for the rich.

“Just you and me." You repeated back, voice so soft it could be caught in the wind and drift away, feathery.

“I'd say we should just split up and wait to see who dies out first, but we both know you're much more popular than I am." She smirked with sadness twinging her features.

“They like you, Marlowe. You're fierce."

She laughed harshly, “So are you, but you've balanced it out. Anyways I'm sure if we did do that they'd send something out for us. It's all for the show, isn't it?" Marlowe wouldn't cry but you could feel the exasperation, the anger, the tears that would never spill in her wavering voice. “Isn't it?" She shouted into the sky. You could tell she was giving up in a sense, not scared of angering the Capitol. But that didn't mean she wasn't still a threat, if anything her wrath made her more of a danger in the moment. So as she started into the sky you made a run for it, grabbing the spear left by Conway. Oh, Conway.

There was no time to dwell on Conway or Birch. Right now you need to focus on your plan, gaining the upper hand. You needed to be in the water. Which wouldn't be hard, this was a marshland after all. Spear in hand you ran as fast as you could, enough distance would give you enough time to think of a more solid plan. Marlowe shouted your name, but you ran until your legs tumbled into the warm water, sweat ran down your face as the mugginess clung to your skin. You whipped around to where her footsteps headed towards you, gripping for dear life onto that spear.

“Was this your plan all along? That's what Birch always said, you'd play the part of a darling, of a ready to cry her heart out sweetheart just to stab us all in the back, especially with that training score.” She shook her head, dismayed. " But I get it, I really do. This is what they do, pin us against each other. If you wanted me to die you would have thrown that at me, but you haven't. But I can still win this thing.” The tears were burbling up again and before you could throw the spear into her she'd tackled you from the side.

Your lungs filled with the muddy water and you gasped for air that wasn't there. How ironic it would be, you ran for the water to have the upper hand and it would be the end of you. Your grasp had loosened on the spear and you desperately tried to find it in the water. Your arms failed, you kicked forward, but Marlowe was just as strong as Birch would have been. For a second you were able to lift your face out of the water and take a gasp of air before her hands plunger you back into uncomfortably warm water.

You saw images of Finnick, how disappointed he would be in you. How heart wrenchingly broken he would be to know he pushed you away to ‘protect you’ and there you were dead in the dirty marsh water. You wanted him back desperately, for him to trust you again, let you back within the walls of his mind. Suddenly your hands finally wrapped around the spear you'd been desperately searching for. With all the energy you had left in you, eyes searching through the murky water you aimed as much as you could.

Suddenly her rough fingers holding you down loosened and you forced yourself up, gasping for air. Hands still on the handle of the spear and you felt the warmth of a thicker liquid falling down on you. Straight from her neck, you'd gone straight through her throat. The cannon rang out, a voice proclaimed you the victor of the annual Hunger Games, but all you could do was bawl. Mumbled apologies, she didn't deserve this, nobody did.

Pictures of her mother and father glaring into you for taking away their only baby as you announced your loyalty to the righteousness of Panem. You weren't screaming yourself awake.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick hasn't fallen back to sleep, but your sniffles and the feeling of your hot tears on his arms made him glad he hadn't. That he could be here for you when you woke up once again, needing to know there would be no more death. Other things like ahead, but there would be no more arena.

“Angel, it's okay. Let it out, I'm here for you." He spoke with so much confidence that your drowsy self simply nodded as you cried and tucked yourself into his arms even more.

“Finnick?" You mumbled out through your groggy mind and tear filled throat.

“Yes, my love?" Even when your vision was blurred he looked ethereal, a god send in your time of need.

“Can you just tell me something happy, just whisk me away, please?" Finnick kissed the top of your head.

“Of course." The begging way you said it, pumped his veins with guilt. He's been too harsh, too much of a realist. Which wasn't how your relationship operates, he couldn't just talk to you like a mentor when you'd always meant so much more than that.

“Angel, after we get through this we're going to live in a beautiful house overlooking the beach. I'll annoy you but dragging you out to fish-” He began before you interrupted him.

“You could never annoy me, Finnick." You said softly and he pressed his finger to your lips.

“Shhhh, just listen and rest. I'll annoy you and boss you around it, as you like to say. I'll collect sea glass to make you beautiful things, we'll dance in the sand, and every second I'll think about your hands in mind, your soft hair wrapped in my fingers, your lips on mine. We’ll be so drunk on our own pleasure all of this will be a figment of your imagination, I'll cook for you, and we'll get dressed up to go nowhere before we just end up swimming the night away." Maybe he was lying maybe if Snow had his way it would break you like it had broken him, but maybe with your kindhearted way you'd simply build him back up and your bond would be stronger than ever.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sorry this is so long, but I left out so much I was thinking about. Especially about the games so maybe there'll be a part two if y'all want. Thanks for reading, likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated.

[deandoesthingstome]

Forest Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. It can't possibly be what it's advertised as, can it?

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (missionary and doggy style), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I was considering waiting until Oct, but it's a fucking Super Moon tonight so let's gooooo.....!!!!!

When The Fantasy Hotel opened up in town, you scoffed at first. "What’s with this name? What kind of depravity is this? Why can't folks just fuck in their own homes?" you thought to yourself. “At least they have someone to fuck. Why must they flaunt their relationships in my face this way?”

But then you heard the whispers. The suggestions. The innuendos. A few of your online friends, who know you'd been through a dry spell for some time now, had been asking if you'd given any thought to trying it out and you were...confused. They wouldn't say outright what they'd heard about the place, but curiosity got the better of you. 

You opened the incognito browser and typed the hotel name and were...shocked. Shocked at the images and the rave reviews. This hotel wasn't strictly for couples. As a matter of fact, it was designed for singles. And you shut your laptop quickly, convinced this wasn't for you and worried what your anonymous, online friends must think of you. You broached the subject delicately, so as not to offend in case maybe they didn't really know what they were asking about.

MNstrluvr: Come on. You've read the fics. You've liked and commented. Are you really saying you weren't into it? The idea of it?

sendmeanangel: I was sucked in by the phenomenal writing. You know me. I read anything if it's told well, descriptive, immersive, get you out of your head.

darkgothnightengale: This is THAT. But IRL. You're fucking lucky they picked your town to open the first one. You HAVE to try it and tell us how it is!!!

sendmeanangel: Have you seen the prices?

darkgothnightengale: We chipped in.

sendmeanangel:...

MNstrluvr: Come on! We're dying to know first hand from someone we actually know. Please. For science!

It took a few more gentle prods and pokes, with promises of no jokes unless you gave specific permission. And under NO CIRCUMSTANCES were your friends allowed to post anything that even vaguely alluded to the fact that you were trying the place out. Private DMs and Super Private Chat Room discussions only.

Your visit was booked. You opted for a brief stay only. Two hours. You couldn't bring yourself to book a longer stay and the theme you selected was one that allowed for less than full evenings. It was also the only slot available on the day you were able to ask off work. 

You showered and primped, pampering yourself with your favorite body wash and lotion, knowing how good it made you feel to be fresh and clean and smelling delicious. You checked your clothes and your makeup in the full length mirror by your apartment door, opting not to change for the fiftieth time since stepping out of the shower. A few final items stuffed into your travel satchel and the large floppy hat on your head you'd bought specifically to hide your face as you made your way into the hotel and you were off for your adventure, trepidation buzzing around your insides and threatening to derail your purpose.

Your friends had paid and you figured you were already past a normal hotel refund window, so paying them back would mean picking up a few extra shifts on top of your already hectic university schedule. Besides, you didn't want to disappoint them. They were so curious to know if the stories that were starting to pop-up on Tumblr did any justice to the experience. You really couldn’t imagine this was anything more than some extremely well put together costumes and perhaps use of silicon implements, which had you really wondering about sanitation, but whatever.

The cab pulled up at the hotel entrance and a petite woman with a pixie cut stepped forward to open the door and help you out. She gave a warm smile with no hint of derision or teasing about the hat as she welcomed you sincerely and led you through the front doors, depositing you at the registration desk.

"Enjoy your stay!" she beamed at you, with a conspiratorial wink before heading back out to, you assumed, await the next guest.

You called out a thanks after her, then turned to the front desk attendant, who welcomed you by name.

"You have the only check in slot at this time," he answered your unspoken question with a kind smile. "We stagger arrival on purpose to ensure privacy for our guests. Especially first time visits. We have you booked in the Deep Forest Suite for the next two hours, and it looks like you requested the basket add on. That will be waiting for you in the room. Since it is your first time, we just need you to sign a few waivers and I'll run through the hotel safety rules for you. A copy has also been sent to your email, if you want to check them during your stay. But also, rest assured, your host is well versed and knows exactly how to keep you safe. You are in good hands here, I promise."

Every word spoken carefully and with respect, every inflection designed to put your worries at ease. If you had butterflies going in, you'd never know it now. You had taken notice of the lush and inviting lobby, dark wood furniture covered in rich velvet, chandeliers and wall sconces casting a warm glow around you. There was nothing menacing or untoward, nothing like you had expected, even after seeing the interior photos online. You'd experienced marketing ploys before. This wasn't glue disguised as milk or fries on toothpicks to stand up straight in the box or a long angle shot of the tiniest pool ever. Everything so far was exactly as depicted and you were impressed.

Then you remembered the photo of your host and had to swallow hard. You had assumed it was a doctored image, maybe some unique lighting to draw attention. But if the decor was real, then maybe he was too. The rules were oddly specific for an experience with a guy in a costume.

Maybe everything you had assumed about the nature of this hotel was wrong. 

"Everything okay?" the clerk asked with a furrowed brow. "Is there something worrisome about the rules?"

"Oh. No. No everything is fine. I'm just..." you trailed off. Nervous wasn't the right word. Nor were you embarrassed, as you thought you would be. The door attendant, the desk clerk...neither had made you feel anything but welcome and safe and not self-conscious at all.

"It's perfectly reasonable to feel a little apprehension your first time. If it makes you feel better, you should know: you actually can opt out at any time. We do have to retain a portion of the room fee, but a partial refund is available. Should you change your mind."

"That's nice to know, thank you. I think I'll be okay."

"Then let's get you to your room,” he clapped his hands together with a mirth. “427. Elevator is down the hall and there are directional signs, but I'm happy to escort you if you'd like."

"I think I'll manage, but thank you."

As he placed the key in your possession and sent you on your way, the reality sunk in a little deeper. Weighed down by the heavy iron key in your hand as you rode the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped down the hall to your room, you could no longer deny what was about to occur.

You were headed into the wolf's den.

The door unlocked with a satisfying click as you turned the iron key. You were transported to a lush forest setting when you stepped into the room. Or as close as you could get indoors, anyway. A carpet of deep, soft green lay on the floor beneath your feet, and you immediately slipped out of your shoes to feel the cool material on your skin. It was impossibly silky, smooth, and comforting.

Large potted fir and pine plants lined the walls and stood in corners. At least a few held miniature deciduous trees and some with limbs stretching across the ceiling. You finally let your eyes fall on the chunky, four-poster bed, the legs, head- and foot-boards crafted of smooth finished logs you might find in a high-end cabin or ski chalet and covered in a thick feather mattress wrapped in luxurious blankets and piled high with pillows.

A picnic basket sat prim and proper on the coffee table nestled between two plump, overstuffed chairs and you had just reached out to peek beneath the deep red cloth when the door closed softly behind you and a throat cleared.

"I hope I haven't startled you."

You turned and gasped as you took in the sight of one of the largest, and, for lack of a better description because your brain was starting to fail you, manliest men you'd ever set eyes on. His photograph might have been deceptive, but only because it didn't do him justice. He wore a thick, blue cable knit sweater and dark gray cargo pants that seemed to mold around his thighs. He was barefoot, which surprised you a little, but then who were you to judge at the moment?

You caught his smirk as you lifted your gaze to appreciate the rugged beard and full head of chocolate curls that framed his face, offsetting mesmerizing blue eyes.

"I'm Walter," he offered you his hand as he spoke your name with a gentle growl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You're not..." you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how eager you'd found yourself. "Forgive me. That may have been a rude way to start."

"It's okay," he chuckled. "This isn't the form you signed up for, but I've found it more enjoyable to at least meet in this state. If I bounded in here all claws and snarls, we wouldn't have a chance to speak first. And I prefer to have at least a quick chat, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine," you whispered, your throat dry though your mouth was watering.

Walter stepped past you and reached a large mitt into the basket to pull out a bottle of water.

"Would you like to talk with me a bit?" he asked, offering you the bottle. Your eyes lingered on the basket, though, curious what else might be in there. The amenity said “Fantasy Basket”, so it could have just been a riff on the hotel name, but still, you had assumed…

“Did you not get a chance to peek before I arrived?” he asked as you took a sip of water.

“No. Do you know what’s in there?”

“I do,” another chuckle, deeper and darker than before. “Do you want to know now, or later?”

“We don’t have a lot of time, do we?” you asked, suddenly aware and mentally kicking yourself for thinking you didn’t need more than a few hours to get the lay of the land. Literally, you snorted at your internal joke.

“Something funny?”

“Lay of the land,” you replied with a grin and as he laughed with you, you caught sight of his canines. They seemed a little longer than when you saw them in his first grin. At the moan that slipped from your throat, he darkened again.

“That it will be.”

You gasped and squeezed your thighs, clenching at the reverberation in his voice. Something had changed from even just the moment before when he’d entered the room. Aside from the physical appearance, you sensed a shift in the air, something wavering in the ether around you. A heat crept from your core to your cheeks, through your spine and settled into your chest. You were breathless.

“How do we…um, how does this start?”

“We’ve already started, haven’t we?” he replied, a little mysteriously. “Sit with me?”

What made you drop to the floor beneath you instead of onto the comfortable looking seat, you couldn’t say, but here you were resting back on your heels as you took another drink of water from the glass bottle in your hand.

“I was going to suggest the chairs, but if you prefer the ground, I’m happy to say I do too.”

Walter stepped forward and lowered himself to the ground beside you, one knee splayed wide and almost touching yours, the other knee bent with an elbow draped over it as he leaned toward you. You could swear you caught him sniffing the air.

“I don’t know what to say,” you spoke with caution, suddenly overwhelmed. The day was just becoming a series of flip-flops in your mind as you imagined yourself, sometimes bold and determined to experience what you could, then timid and nervous as the reality overcame you. Once at ease and open, now shy and reserved.

“That’s okay,” Walter replied. “The better for me to begin.”

Why did that sound like such a familiar phrase? You took another drink and nodded for him to continue.

“I’d like to continue our time together by undressing you, one way or another. You have a choice, which you can leave to me if you’d like. I can do it now, in this form,” he paused, cocked his head to one side, then the other as he cracked his neck. “Or I can shift, in your presence or not, and do it that way.”

What did he mean by “shift”? Surely, he must mean change. As in undress and don a mask. But then you remembered his teeth, somehow longer. And you thought about the subtle way the atmosphere seemed to shimmer and transport you and you wondered if he really did mean “shift.’

“That sounds like two choices,” you whispered and caught his grin, canines even longer than before.

“Perceptive. I like it. Need a few moments?”

“What happens after I’m…I mean, I know what happens, I guess… but just, like, how…” you trailed off, not really sure what you were asking.

“We’re playing a game here, really. That’s all. It can be as simple or intricate as you’d like, though, you’re right. Our time is ticking away.”

“You do it.” You rushed, barely letting him finish his response. 

“Here or…?”

“I’ll close my eyes.” The thought of watching his shift, though intriguing, also made you wonder if it would make you more nervous than you already suddenly found yourself again. Maybe it was better to just jump in and get started, as much as you were also enjoying speaking with Walter in his human form. 

“Why don’t you take the basket into the bathroom? Pick out whatever intrigues you for use and come out when you’re ready. I’ll shift before you return. Sound okay?”

You nodded and he helped you to stand, then handed you the basket and gently urged you toward the bathroom door. Before he let go of your arm, he stepped in close, slipping his hand over yours and pressing it to his chest as he tugged you toward him. 

“Do you mind if I give you one kiss this way before we meet next? You can say no, but it’s nice, I think, a good way to gauge your interest.”

Did he somehow think you weren’t interested? How had you hidden the drool from him? You’d been too quiet, clearly. Mesmerized by everything that had happened already in such a short time and you’d lost your voice, unable to truly communicate your desire. You were ruining everything, obviously.

“I’d like to kiss you very much,” you admitted, peering up into his eyes, which you now noticed were not the 100% blue you’d originally thought. Was this man really about to change shape? Did it matter? It didn’t matter in the least as far as how well he could kiss you, because while you were contemplating the genetics of the man in front of you, he was leaning down to capture your lips in what started as a chaste, closed mouth peck that grew steadily more intense as you felt his free arm slip up your back to settle a hand against the nape of your neck while yours slipped around his waist and urged him closer, as if you were guided by some unknown force. You felt his tongue lick along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as if you’d known him your whole life.

With your hand still pressed against his sternum, you could feel his heart beat faster as each second passed and the kiss grew more heated. When he pulled away you actually whined.

“I’m glad to see you are interested,” he teased with a grin before he spun you toward the door again and pressed you inside. “Now hop on in and don’t take too long. I want to treat you for as long as I can.”

The bathroom was just as sumptuous as the main room. A dark tiled shower took up one entire wall of the room and you couldn’t tell if the color was black or just the deepest forest green you’d ever seen. Instead of a curtain or sliding door, a glass panel separated the shower from the rest of the room with an opening opposite the brass water valves to step in. What you imagined must be a rain shower head jutted out from the ceiling. You didn’t want to waste any more of your precious time, but wondered if there’d be any left to enjoy this shower when all was said and done. The rest of the bathroom fixtures and amenities would have to wait for inspection, since you needed to pay attention to your basket. You set it on the veined marble counter and finally lifted the cloth completely off. 

Only the cloth wasn’t exactly a cloth. It was a cape, tucked neatly on top of a few more bottles of water, a small loaf of bread, some cut cheeses and fruit in a covered bowl. And that was it for the tame picnic items.

You pulled a short, white peasant dress trimmed in lace and a red apron with black satin ribbon criss-crossing the front out of the basket, along with what appeared to be a pair of black fishnet stockings and thought of Walter’s comments. Were you expected to change or only if you wanted this part of the experience? Finally, you noticed a few heavy leather straps and as you pulled them from the basket you realized they must be meant as restraints, but for whom? You or him? You also noticed a distinct lack of silicon implements.

You heard a rustle of some sort outside the bathroom door, reminding you that Walter was waiting and time was fleeting and you really needed to make a decision about how you wanted to enter the room again. Walter had suggested you take the basket with you. And he was going to be … different when you saw him again, wasn’t he? And you had asked him to undress you. Maybe he anticipated that undressing would be … vigorous. What if this costume was meant for that? You had brought a change of clothes but didn’t think you’d be leaving here with one less outfit in your already sparse wardrobe.

Your mind made up, you stripped quickly and donned the outfit, amazed at how simple the apron was to slip over your head, then pull the satin ties tight with your own hand. You always imagined an intricate article of intimate clothing like this would take so much more effort. Maybe it would be something you’d feel comfortable and confident enough to do outside this hotel someday.

For now, you were drawn back into the moment with a thud on the door and a low growl that sounded like “Come out.”

You finished dressing, wrapping the cape around your neck and drawing up the hood. You still weren’t wearing shoes, so you could feel the ground through the wide gaps of the fishnets as you stepped back into the room, picnic basket on your arm. It felt different. More uneven. Crunchy leaves crackled beneath as you stepped onto what now felt like real grass, fading to dirt, fading to ground littered with pine needles and dry leaves. Ferns peaked out from the tree trunks. And a supermoon shone overhead.

This was not your room. It was on the other side of the bathroom door, to be fair, but this was not the room you’d stepped into 20 minutes ago. And yet, how could it be anything but? A twig snapped to your left and drew your attention as you realized you didn’t see Walter. You’d thought he’d be right outside the door, waiting for you, maybe in a chair, maybe on the bed. But you didn’t see him, only his clothes folded neatly on the table where your picnic basket had been. Suddenly, you felt a rush of air next to you.

“What are you doing here, little one?”

You had a hard time deciding what to focus on as the words were spoken. The actual choice of the words themselves, which harkened back to that story that drifted through the tendrils of your mind, whispering “You know me?” Or the rough, low way those words tumbled from him, hungry and full of want. Was this the game?

“Your voice sounds so strange, Walter. Is everything okay?” you asked, plucking the words from the cobwebs in your head.

“I think I just swallowed some water wrong.”

You took a deep breath and turned, ready to catch him, ready to see. He was glorious and you were awestruck. It took a few moments of taking in the sight of his body, arms slightly elongated, up on the balls of his feet, hair that looked like chocolate silk covering his body but not in a way that you couldn’t see the tone and definition of his skin underneath, nose and mouth pulled forward, ears up. Ears up.

“Walter, what big ears you have,” you cooed, reaching up to touch them, though waiting for the assent in his eyes. When you could see he would allow it, you brushed your fingers along the back side, then scratched a little in the crease where they met his head and he closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes.

“Walter, what big eyes you have,” your voice a bit lower, sultry, as if the confidence you’d lost earlier had found its way back to you. He opened them and you’d have sworn sparks flew as his deep blue eyes pierced yours before you saw him drag his gaze over your face, down your neck, back and forth between your breasts, unfortunately still covered. He must have felt the same because he didn’t linger on the clothes, but when he reached your thighs, clad in the black hose he snarled, baring his sharp teeth. Sharp teeth.

“Walter,” you teased. “What big teeth you have.”

“The better to eat you with, my dear,” he growled and pounced, swatting the picnic basket to the ground before lifting you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. He only needed a few steps before he could toss you back onto the plump bed. Your cape hood dropped off your head and your dress skirt hiked up a little, but not like it mattered. 

Walter was between your legs, nudging your thighs wide with his own as he folded himself over you, arms caging your head. With a snarl, he began to nuzzle down your neck, sniffing along the way.

“You smell good,” he grunted as he drew a paw over your chest. “Smelled you from the moment I walked in the room, but I wanted to be closer. Like this.”

You peered down towards his hand and noticed the sharp claw of what should be an index finger drawn back and ready to slice through the black satin down your breast. The apron draped to your sides as easily as you’d put it on, practically one handed, and it was gone now. You didn’t really care if the white dress met the same fate as the apron, but the cape was quality. Surely there was no need to ruin it. You reached to untie the bow at your neck just as Walter sliced easily through the front of the dress. The rip as he reared back and grabbed a side of split fabric in both hands to finish the job was satisfying. 

Since you’d decided to just leave off the bra and panties for the sake of time, you were now left like an unwrapped package on the bed, intricately woven stretchy black thread the only thing sitting between you and Walter. Your chest was heaving and so was his. And since he was now up on his knees instead of bent over you, you had a chance to glance away from his face toward his hips and you had to bite your lip. 

He was huge. Like, possibly not gonna fit huge. He must have seen the hesitation on your face.

“Don’t worry,” came the sound as he dropped back off the bed, knelt on the floor, hooked his arms under your thighs, and tugged you to the edge of the bed. You felt his nuzzle against the skin of your belly, the warm, wet air of his exhale trailing down your side, into the crook of your thigh, and finally settling right on top of your cunt. He was so deft as he slipped a finger into your slit, then cut the thread between your legs as he pulled the finger free, widening the hole to give him greater access.

The noises you made could absolutely be interpreted as nothing other than consent, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t stop, as the contract said he could if he had any doubt about your permission. There could be no doubt.

“Please, don’t stop. Put your mouth on me. Make me cum.”

There was the slightest of huffs, as if he was smiling the briefest of victory smiles, before his assail began. It was measured, it was slow, it was a thorough gathering of information. It was infuriating. As you were about to open your impatient mouth and remind him that the clock was ticking the minutes away, like the insufferable bitch she was, he shifted tactics.

Every little nuance he’d taken note of, every amount of pressure and length of lick that produced some desired effect was now fortified. This was the only thing he did. And at a brisker rate, as if he’d calculated the pleasure you’d derived at the low speed and determined the exponential pleasure you’d get from the real speed. 

They had not put mathematical genius in his bio, but here you were getting eaten alive better than anyone had ever done it before. And you dared say, maybe after. This could get expensive.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were afraid the remaining time had to be expired because you kept awakening from mind bending bliss to find him still lapping and sucking at your pussy as if he just got started and how long had it been, my gods, you grabbed hold of the curly hair around his head and tugged as you begged.

“Stop. Stop,” you were breathless. “Walter, please stop. It’s so good. It’s too good. I don’t want you to stop but we have to stop. My time must be up, I have to go.”

His laugh wasn’t cruel, but it was sinister “We have time. Don’t worry. I made sure.”

You didn’t dare look at the clock. Your gaze was locked into his anyway, whites of his eyes replaced by a deep, lustful red. He held your stare while dragging his tongue and snout along your heated skin.

He slipped an arm under your waist, tugging your torso in one direction as he stepped a hind leg up to nudge your hips in the other. He settled in between your legs once he had you parallel to the edge of the bed. You threw your arms over your head as he caressed your outer thigh, coaxing it around his waist while bending to savor the scent you'd released for him. When he was satisfied, he moved again to climb over your body.

You were aching for him, arching into the heat radiating from the closeness of his form. As you reached for his neck to pull him even closer, you realized why he'd kissed you before the turn. It would be awkward now to put your mouth on his. The shape didn't lend itself to an easy slotting of lips against one another, though you yearned for the recent memory.

As if he could sense your desire, he leaned in and nuzzled against your neck, behind your ear, then along your throat. He pushed your chin up with his muzzle to bare your pulse to him and then he nipped.

You whimpered at the sensation and even as he licked to soothe it, he did it again, a little harder, just shy of breaking skin.

"Please," you begged, eager to feel the power, though you knew it was strictly forbidden and you trusted he did as well.

His growl was full of bravado, as if he was proud to have you begging him to break the rules.

"You wanna get me in trouble?" Walter grumbled in your ear as he ran his paws up and down your body, dragging his claws carefully over your skin. He snarled when they snagged on the stockings and looked to you for approval before he tore them away from your legs completely.

"If you can't bite me, then at least mate me," you pleaded, knowing full well he couldn't do that either but you were too far gone to care. It would at least get him thinking about sinking his cock in you one way or another.

He reached for the drawer of the heavy wooden night stand and produced a few foil packets, dropping all but one on the bedside table and handing you the last, prompting an eyebrow raised in question from you. His response was measured, as if he struggled to control something deep inside.

"You have another choice to make," he began with a low rumble as he sought understanding in your eyes. "I can't mate you directly and I'm sure you know that. I have access to...toys, equipment that would allow you to feel that sensation, but it won't be me. If instead, you're willing to use protection with me, I will gladly fill you up."

If he wouldn't go bare, so be it. He wiggled his claws as you attempted to hand him the packet, sure you'd make a debacle of trying to sheath the monster between his legs.

"Just to be safe, you'd better do it. These are pretty sharp. That ok?" he grunted at you in question.

You nodded and scooted out from under him, up the bed so you had a little leverage. He kept a knee on the mattress as he stood tall from his other hind leg still on the floor and waited for you to tear the package and roll the condom down his cock.

"Is there anything special I need to do to make it fit?" you asked, vaguely aware of how ridiculous the question sounded but eager nonetheless to get past this part and onto the one where Walter would be deep inside you, filling every inch, stroking every wall. You'd already seen the size, but forgotten your initial trepidation thanks to the glorious head he'd given you.

Surely, no standard drugstore rubber would cover it. His huff was kind, and you could swear you saw the twinkle of a smile in his eyes as he answered.

"We bring them in special. They're designed for a ... more substantial, and sometimes even exotic, need. But if you know how to use one, you know how to use them all. Still alright?"

You nodded with a smile, and set to work, letting the heft and feel of his member draw you back into your haze of lust and desire now that logistics were out of the way. You worked the rubber over his girth and found yourself imagining what it would be like to have him split you in two. You couldn't wait and he could tell.

"So eager," he grumbled as he grasped your shoulders and eased you onto your back.

You thought about trying to tame your excitement, but to what end? For a brief moment the thought that you surely didn't have much more time left flitted through your mind and then you let the excitement and anticipation take over.

"Please take me now," you begged and captured the side of your lower lip with your teeth as you once again pictured the incoming pleasure.

"If anything feels uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop," he murmured in your ear as he lowered himself over you. "Say 'woodsman' and I stop. Understood?"

He pulled back to find your reply and when he had his confirmation he didn't hold back any further. As if no time had passed between when he had coaxed so much moisture from your core and now, you were still dripping for him when he grabbed ahold of his thick member and placed the tip at your entrance.

Any other man would have slid in easily, but Walter wasn't any other man and he knew it. Once the tip breached your aching pussy, he carefully nudged a knuckle alongside, pressing in and loosening the way. You spread your legs wider for him and willed your walls to relax, though they wouldn't.

Remembering what he said during the exchange about the condom, you pulled a hand off his shoulder, down his furry chest, and in between your bodies, reaching for the spot where you were connected. The growl he let out when he realized what you were doing was invigorating and spurred you on.

You watched him bend his head down so he could take in the sight of you stroking him a few times before you began to massage the folds at your entrance. You let your fingers tease your clit and when you couldn't stand it any longer, a time which you were sure had already passed, you split your index and middle finger and gently coaxed your opening wider.

As he felt the ease, Walter sank ever deeper until he was bottomed out and pressed as far in as he could. You saw stars, immediately, and loosened even more, coating him with warmth and juices that helped his movements.

In another time, with another man, that may have been it. Most men, if they even took the time to draw an orgasm from you through the missionary position, would collapse in almost relief as soon as you came, spending their load and ending the night then and there.

But you'd already established Walter was no mere man. He took your sigh as his cue to help you feel that way again and again. And when he couldn't tear another orgasm from you in this position, no matter how hard he pumped or how high he got your legs over his head, he pulled out and flipped you to all fours and slammed back in from behind, eager to wrench at least one last shout of pleasure from your lips before he spilled his seed in the condom and sent you to your belly with a slap on your ass as he withdrew from you entirely.

"Am I charged extra for that?" you mustered the energy to ask once he'd returned from the bathroom. You peeled one exhausted eye open to see he was back to his human form, though still completely unclothed and you wondered if anyone was lucky enough to enjoy that experience as well.

"Sorry?" he asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Does this place charge by the volume? Was there a limit to the number of orgasms allowed? I imagine it has to be like the extra mini-bar charges they tack onto your bill when you check out of any other hotel, right?"

His laugh was deep and infectious. It reverberated through the room and your chest as he climbed into the bed beside you with the bowl of cheese and fruit in one hand and the bread in the other.

"We don't have a limit. You can have as many as you want. Care for a snack? Get your energy back?” Walter took the time to feed you small bites while your boneless body slowly recovered.

"We have to be so far over my time limit. Am I about to turn into a pumpkin now?" you asked after swallowing a final bite of bread.

Walter laughed again and it warmed your heart. Maybe he was just a really good actor, but nothing so far had rang false, so why would he try to fake this? He thought you were funny.

"No, nothing so drastic. But if you do want to rinse off before checkout, you should get a move on. I could carry you if you're still not up to moving just yet?"

You nodded, and as if you weighed nothing, Walter lifted you from the bed and deposited you in the shower cabin, away from the shower head while he fiddled with the water faucet. Once the steam began to rise, he pulled you in with him and helped you lather up and rinse off, careful to keep your hair away from the spray as best he could. Then he dried you off with a fluffy towel and helped you dress in your extra set of clothes, before tucking the cape in your bag with your original outfit.

"It's part of the basket fee," he answered your unasked question with a ridiculous wink. "If you book it again, they'll give you a discount, but you'll have to remember to bring it with you."

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the room again appeared as it did when you first entered what felt like hours ago. Surely more than two. Walter could sense your confusion.

“The hotel has some special features we don’t actually advertise,” he offered, as he pulled on his pants. “We use them at our discretion, but it means you get an experience unlike others. This room, for example, truly can transform into a deep forest. And I like to stretch the time here, especially for newcomers. When you walk out into that hall, it’ll be two hours since your arrival. We’ve been here for longer though. But do me a favor, wouldja? Keep that to yourself?” 

You nodded and smiled, appreciative of his special treatment, then took one last look around the room to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything. Walter walked you to the door and gave you a final kiss goodbye.

“I do hope everything was to your satisfaction. Hopefully, you’ll come back sometime,” he grinned at you as you stumbled backwards down the hall, not wanting to turn away from his gorgeous face. You were absolutely going to figure out a way to pick up some extra shift and make your way back to this hotel again if it killed you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's a monster fucker lol!)

Werewolf!walter only (if you asked on the teaser):

@ellethespaceunicorn (hope this is okay! Tag me in whichever HC character werewolf you end up with!) @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

[jolalibrary]

15. raspberry truffle

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter fifteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.1k chapter warnings: smut. 18+. jo's mirror love resurfaces and armchairs are used as more than things sat behind desks. lots of mouth to mouth resus. smut. also there's smut. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: I've had this image in my head for so long...

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“Do you trust me?”

It's a simple question. One he’s asked you time and time before, but never with the current look in his eye he’s currently wearing.

Dressed in a tight grey tee and a pair of black sweats. Hatless, teased curls frame his face as you rest against your counter. The one you’ve seen for the first time in some days.

It strikes you that the only reason you're standing in your home, to begin with, is because of the email informing you that some of your new furniture had been dispatched.

His mouth had been sealed to your neck, fingers grasping at your waist as you read it out, distracted, attention not entirely focused on him until his hand snaked between your legs, in his sheets, in his bed—the one you’d now found to be far more comfortable than your own—as he whispered, I can build it for you.

And, he did. Had done.

Putting his tool on the side as he rejoins you. A nominal irk bubbling through you that the toolbox it lives in is one foot away, it vanishing when he steps closer, presses you further against it. Cool, firmness meets your spine as his body corners you.

He looms in a way that makes your heart double as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. Deeply.

“Should I trust you, handsome?”

Snorting, his laugh fluttering over your lips. “I think you should.”

Lips pursing, narrowing your eyes teasingly, you feel his thumb sliding the fabric of your top up and down your hip bone.

“You are biased though.” His head lolls from side to side as he hums, fingers pinching at the bottom of your top. “Do you think I should because you built my chair?”

As soon as he slides his arm around your waist, your back arches. Chest desperate to be flush. Heart aching to be near to his.

“No. Because you love me.”

Sighing, nodding—all playful. A smirk just there, all beneath the surface. “Oh. That thing.”

Tracing his nose against yours, a smile trying to beam, but he mirrors how you hold back. “That thing.”

When he’s close like this, it’s almost criminal when you’re not kissing him. When you’ve not slanted your mouth against his soft lips, felt the roughness of the hair on his face against your palm, buried your fingers into his curls and pulled a little to earn that groan he does. The one, if it were a thing that could be possible, you’d love etched into your brain.

The thought of which makes you want to peel your clothes off.

Already so hungry for a thing you’ve been feasting at a buffet for the last number of days. Yet, still wanting, still needing.

“You really play a long game,” you say, more sweet. And his nose scrunches, frowning as you smirk. “Waiting this long, getting me to fall in love with you, and then killing me in my own office.”

“Oh yeah, I’m a mastermind.”

Laughing, you twirl a curl around your finger, finding the hair a little longer. “Okay,” you reply, sealing it to his lips, “I trust you—you get my blood on my new chair you’ve just built, I’m going to haunt you.”

“It’s not a punishment that you’d want to spend the rest of your days haunting me, Rainy.”

His hips dip, becoming aware of the effect you have on him too as his growing bulge rubs against your parted thighs. A moan escapes, body jolting at the welcome friction. The sound leaves so softly, barely loud enough to disrupt his mouth from being on yours.

But it does.

“Do you trust me?”

The four words repeated, answered hurriedly. No game, no tease.

His mouth comes close to your ear, a chaste kiss left along your hairline as his hand clutches your waist for stability, and you forget how to breathe.

“Close your eyes, baby.”

As you do, his fingers, clean and soft, all but sawdust stained, slide over your eyes—his chest to your back as he leads you down a familiar path that suddenly feels foreign. Trusting.

Your nose tunes in. Takes in the scent that is equivocally just him, one you’re thankful has begun seeping into your home as much as he has your heart. Hearing him whisper instructions, watch this, be careful, until you're body is shifted on its axis.

His fingers slide from your vision, allowing you to blink, see him, smiling at the sight of him.

“Fuck you’re handsome.”

Backing you up against the newly painted office wall, your arm hooks around his neck again, mouth ghosting over his as a hand hovers over your hip.

“Still trust me?”

Nodding, you feel his breath on your parted lips, before he slides his mouth over yours. Searing. Burning—all determined as his tongue slides past your teeth and his fingers slide up your neck, tracing your jaw. It makes you delirious. Dizzy. Thoughts nothing but lost to you until you glance past him and see it.

The built chair, in the nearly decorated office. The desk it should be behind is still a week out, but the chair, mirror and plants are all set up—the shelves adorned with bits you have for now.

“Hey?” he says, eyes snapping back to him.

Spotting the bubbling molten in his eyes, remembering how your body is aflame—

Then the next question comes. “Can I taste you, baby?”

Nodding, you whisper your answer into the air as he leads you, guides you all over again, moving you closer and more towards your new chair. Mouth latching itself to yours, palms on either side of your cheeks, before his hand steals the cushion, and throws it down.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he whispers, trailing the words down your neck, along your collarbone.

It makes a gasp flutter from your lips, feeling your insides knot, likely dampening the fabric between your thighs, making nothing short of a mess—

“Gonna take these off, okay?”

Your tongue thickens in your head, swallowing a whimper at the feel of his thumbs hooking inside your shorts and slipping them down your thighs. The fabric skims, sliding, before they fall with a soft thud and he's guiding you to sit down in the armchair.

Taking a breath, you stare, captivated. Frankie sinking, kneeling before you on the cushion. “Part your legs for me.”

“Shit, Frankie.”

“Baby.”

Swallowing, you do. Then, it’s delicate, soft.

The gentlest of kisses up the inside of your thighs. Aware of the heat of his fingers pushing your knees further into the arms of the armchair, tuned into the way he exhales through his nose, cool air teasing over your already slick, cloth-covered pussy—the chair groaning when you buck your hips.

“Rainy.”

He grunts it. Low—warningly. It comes from a place in the back of his throat, grating and gravelly as he stares up at you. Nothing but brown dipped in more brown holding your gaze. Usually, it would make you smirk, but instead, you mumble an apology.

One that trails off; turns into a whine when he drags his tongue over the already-drenched fabric.

You’re not sure how it’s possible but you moan like you’ve been teased for hours. Sure that with a few more, you could be close—

“I want you to look in that mirror, and see how beautiful you look as I do this.”

“Frankie, I…”

His hand slides up, right between your still-covered breasts, before cupping your cheek, thumb under your jaw, eyes searching, sweeping and locating. “Look for me.”

Flicking your eyes to it, the ornate thing you’d not been sure you wanted until he’d slid his arms around your waist. Buried his face into your neck. Told you it was nice.

You’d agreed then, you most definitely did. Nodding, letting a little whispered okay escape as he nods. Staring, trying not to pick apart what you see in the reflection. The way your eyes look tired, skin not as bright as it normally would be. That is until he nips at your skin. Pulls your gaze from your own to the back of his head.

“Beautiful—”

“Frankie,” you sigh.

Hand coming over your face, heat blooming in your cheeks as you feel him kiss your inner knee. Thumb stroking at your skin, circling, before he taps. A silent request, a reminder: look at yourself.

You do.

“You are so beautiful, Rainy.” He dips his head—becoming aware of the finger sliding in the gusset of your plainest underwear, dragging the fabric, pulling it from your soaked core all the way to the side.

“I thought it when I first saw you.”

Air blowing across your core, before he places the most delicate, softest kiss against your swollen clit.

“Think it now, seeing you sat in your new chair, in your new office.”

You feel your chest heave, see it. Staring at the way the muscles strain in your neck from not moving, before he drags a long, slow stripe up from your aching hole to your nerves.

And he groans, low and dull. It vibrates against you before his tongue swipes again, hands pushing your inner thighs apart before he dives again. Sliding his tongue between your folds, licking, drawing.

He’s slow in his movements, measured. Delves as much of himself into you before wet, roaring heat swirls around and encases your clit as his growl sends flames up your spine.

That’s when he slides his fingers in. Curls them. Moves them in slow thrusts.

The whine of his name you let escape is sinful, practically unrecognisable. Your hips moving, unable to tear yourself away from staring at the way your mouth hangs open, panting, moaning, as you rock your hips, fuck yourself on his fingers, on his tongue, as you hope his other hand on your hip will leave a mark. Half moons or bruises, or even fucking both—

“Frankie, please.”

The angle of the mirror not only allows you to see the sight of him taking you apart, but how the act seemingly undoes him. How his shirt is stretched across his shoulder blades, how his muscles ripple under the thin fabric as you hold on to every thread as the pads of his fingers curl more into you. All come hither, beckoning the incoming wave you know is going to wash over the two of you.

And it turns you on.

“You like it, querida? Like watching yourself.”

“Like watching you.”

And you swear you feel him smirk as your hips lift, desperate for more, eyes speckled with spots as your nails grip the arm of the chair, the other lost and tangled in his curls.

It’s so good, so fucking good.

He’d make you confess, make you tell him everything—no matter the secret, you’re sure he could pull it from you like this. Have you spilling, as though he’s cracking you open, and even helping him translate the parts of you he’s yet to understand or know.

“So perfect squeezing around me, baby. Love how you taste—always taste so fucking good.”

Your back is off the chair, grinding into him, so close you can’t even think, can barely speak.

“Want you to come on my tongue, Rainy. Need you too.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s it. Let yourself feel good, baby. Use me, use—”

And you do.

Fuck. You do.

Your cry echoes and bangs around the walls before slamming into your ears. Legs shaking. Mind sludge as you come down from your high to his soothing touch, to his whispers, to his words that make you feel like you’re in heaven. Not just here, with his shoulders supporting your knees, but all the time.

It’s why you bring his mouth to yours. Messily, all disorientated from the high of him as you taste yourself on his mouth, on his tongue—the tang of what he’d done to you evidenced.

It makes you want, need.

You’re not sure how the two of you made it to the bedroom so cleanly.

His clothes are scattered, left in the hallway; a path that leads from one moment to the other. Your knees were likely bruised from how you dropped to them in the doorway, straddling the hallway and bedroom as you palmed him through his underwear, eyes wide, looking up.

“I love your cock, Frankie.” Hooking a finger in the band, dragging the fabric to his ankles, to the ground. “Like how heavy it feels on my tongue cock.”

Hand slowly wrapping around him, pumping once, twice.

“Fuc...”

His curse isn't able to form when your mouth wraps around him, taking him in your mouth. As much of him as you could. Hearing him groan, grunt—seeing his nostrils flare before his forehead presses into the crease of his elbow as he leans it against the door. His breath stammers, palm cupping the back of your head casually as he tenses, muscles straining, body stiff.

All you can think is you wish this image could be painted, commemorated; hung somewhere for your eyes to see everywhere, every day.

Because he's backlit by the afternoon, shadows cascade from the half-drawn curtains of your room, bicep flexing as you take him down your throat, loosening it as much as you can until the tip of your nose finds itself in his curls.

“So big, Frankie.”

He groans, at the same time as you taste salt, it pooling at the back of your throat. Your eyes flick up to see his jaw slackening, nostrils flaring when your tongue swirls around the tip, hollowing your cheeks, feeling him twitch in your mouth—

“Bed.”

It’s hissed, strangled, as he pulls himself from between your lips and spit trails over your lower lip and chin.

“Now?” you tease.

“Now.”

His hands, all capable and strong, haul you to your feet. Finding a home on your hips, directing and shifting you until you’re on familiar sheets, turned over, stomach flush to your mattress as he trails his mouth down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you.”

“Then fuck me.”

It’s different, the way your bodies come together. The way he swallows your hiss when he bottoms out, stretching around him, fingers clinging and clutching at him.

“Y’too good to me, Frankie.”

“Impossible,” he whispers.

Mouth sliding up over your neck, nose catching on your skin, his hand dips between your bodies—where you’re joined, where you’re full and stretched around him. It’s bliss. Perfection. One you endure so regularly but don’t become used to, each time as taken back by how good it feels to be seated fully inside you as his fingers tease your swollen nerves.

It’s with a smooth thrust do your fingers brush over his face, finding his cheek, mouth and nose, guiding with your eyes closed for his mouth to seal itself over yours. Hips moving, thrusting, meeting him each time as you grow slicker, making a mess of him and the sheets beneath you.

Mouth slotted over his, moaning passed his teeth, hands clutching his cheek, the back of his neck, fingers teasing his curls. “Fuck, Frankie. Fu—“

He grins, you feel it. His hand slides from your slick-covered clit to your hip, along your waist, travelling and travelling until his palm cups your breast—until his finger and thumb are pinching your hardened peak. All the time kissing you, open mouths, breathing one another as his pace quickens. As you feel the early signs of your thighs tremoring, seeking something to grip, to hold on tight—

“Love how you take me.”

You whine. Gasping.

And he’s smooth with it. The way he slides your hand from his cheek and down towards the bed. Hingeing you, making you go down onto all fours as he kisses down your neck, trails his tongue, leaving a searing wet line before he’s under your arm, snaking his mouth over as much skin as he can get.

“Baby—“

“I know,” he grunts, puncturing it with several thrusts. “Feels good, you always feel good.”

Your eyes clench shut, mouth falling open at the angle. At the way it makes your toes curl in nothing. Something tightening, something that makes the corners of your vision blot and darken. It close. Liquid heat forming, swirling in your stomach, in your need and you—

A whine rips from your throat. All stained in disappointment, in loss as he pulls out. Leaves you empty, desperate.

You almost hiss. Throwing your head over your shoulder as you glance back to see him breathing heavily, chest oiled with sweat, hand squeezing himself at the base, a lopsided grin spread into his cheek as his other hand slides over your side. Urging, silently requesting.

“Roll onto your back, Rainy.”

It centres you, roots you when his elbows come down on either side of you.

Warm, hot mouth sliding over your jaw, his hand gripping yours, holding you tight as he teases, slides the tip of his cock through your messy folds, taunting your swollen clit.

“I love you,” he groans, pushing himself in, completely to the hilt, all in one smooth movement.

You swear he's deeper. Always say so until he trails his hand up the side of your leg, lifting them, hooking them over his waist as you wrap them around his back, and dig your ankles into his lower spine.

“Feel so good.”

“You make me feel so good.”

Your chin tips up, feeling him press open-mouth kisses to your throat. Likely feeling the vibrations of your moans against his lips, his tongue.

“Yeah?”

Nodding, rustling your head against the dishevelled sheets as his breath fans over your collarbone, “Only you.”

His pace quickens, snaps his hips to yours, grunting, moaning—the sounds making you clench around him. Chasing your second orgasm, walls fluttering around him as your fingers tighten around his, as he grasps your hip and fucks into you. Spears into you.

“I love you too,” you moan.

“I’m close. So close. Want to feel you, baby. Can you come, baby, come for me—”

Fingers knotting tighter around his, vision spotting, it all pooling, all set to spread.

Then, it snaps, splinters.

You cry out. Body erupting.

Nothing but heat and fire surging through you as you are washed in it. Drowned it. Never wishing to be saved as you go under, as your hearing fades and your eyes blur. Only aware, distantly, of the way your skin tingles as it lights with a blaze.

But, you do catch his guttural groan. The way he stills, paused, as his eyes clench and your name is buried into your ear—feeling him collapse on you.

A weight you love.

His heart hammering against yours, breath strained, difficult as you clutch at him, pulling him closer if that is at all possible. Even if it's just for a moment, before steam fills your bathroom and soap suds slide down both of your skin.

Because it's a weight that makes you smile every time, every day. One you adore. One you never want to not know.

You say as much against his mouth as your lips sloppily meet his, smiling, grinning against his mouth.

I love you.

Love you too, Rainy.

an: this was almost titled the last smut. (because of the series coming to an end, not because of some unhappy ending)

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[schoenpepper]

Teeth (5 Seconds of Summer)

Intro: It's nothing but a modern rendition of Romeo and Juliet to you. But Jade will twist the narrative into Bonnie and Clyde, if it means he'll get his hands on the one he loves.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread it's too long for me to give a fuck, blood, gore-ish, death (minor charac), bad bad things, criminals, Jade and Floyd are warnings of their own, implied shmexy times, 100% inaccurate interpol description but it was that or the Red Room from marvels idk maybe the kingsman, the fish mafia are verrrrry bad people here ok, but reader doesnt care, betrayal

A/N: Did I fall in love with Jade halfway into writing this? Of course not. I fell in love with Jade a whileeeee ago. Anyway, this is the first installment of my Twisted Harmonies series, a bunch of songfics with different characters and plots and universes.

Masterlist

Some days you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

Aren't you just a darling little thing?

Jade isn't Azul's right hand man for nothing; he sees through your facade all too easily. A little too naive for the sexy outfit you're wearing and a little too innocent for the foxy persona you've put up. The police force had sent lots of undercover agents before. Unfortunately for them, none had been as interesting as you.

He watches you stumble onto the seat next to him. You order a drink and meet his eyes, giving him a charming smile.

Ah.

He understands now.

You weren't sent as a mistake. You were sent because even your superiors saw an overflowing charisma that you yourself didn't seem to notice. They were likely betting on him being drawn to you (and you having better acting skills). They've underestimated him again.

Jade thinks he's too far gone to be a gentleman now, but he chuckles and offers to pay for your pina colada. You accept with a glint in your pretty eyes, and he congratulates himself for picking up a cute little plaything for the next few months. He hears out the alias you have and listens to your cover story with a close-lipped smile. When he leads the conversation to other places, he takes note of when you perk up and start shaking off the person you were forced to be in order to get closer to him. "You like that movie too? That's awesome! I thought I was the only person who knew what it was."

"It's definitely one of my favorite films, but it's not too popular, hm?"

"Right." You pout and huff so adorably, he might just take you where you're sat. He doesn't think you're supposed to like the things you're saying you like, but he enjoys seeing you mess up, if nothing else. "You know," Jade takes a sip of his martini, "I have a copy of it on DVD, if you'd like to come to my place and watch it. Maybe stay for the night...maybe have breakfast in the morning...?" He sees you light up and you seem to finally remember your mission, pushing down the bubbly and energetic rookie and projecting out an image of this mature and seductive force of nature.

It's just too funny.

He drives you to his small villa at the edge of town and he pops the CD into the DVD player. He wasn't lying when he said he liked the movie, and he enjoys hearing your commentary on it because it brings him new insights about the plot as well as you. After the movie, he takes you to his bedroom (like a gentleman 💙) and even cooks you breakfast in the morning. Muffins and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. A part of his attention is on you as you eat breakfast blearily, but most of it is in the file he has on hand while drinking his morning coffee.

[Name: Y/N L/N]

[Status: Recent graduate of the X police academy, honor student]

[Threat level: Unknown]

Jade picks up his pen, looks on as you burn your tongue on your coffee, and jots down a note.

[Threat level: Unknown (near zero, requires further investigation)]

Sometimes you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me, or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

The second time you meet up with your target is on a "date". You'd spent hours in front of the mirror just to look your most "seductive", yet Jade barely even bats an eye. He picks you up from the apartment you were assigned in his swanky, expensive, customized Rolls Royce and drives you both to this upscale 3 Michelin star restaurant in the middle of the city. You feel slightly uncomfortable because of all the haughty uppity-ness of the people in the other tables, but Jade's gloved hand is placed on the small of your back as he walks with you to the table he'd reserved. "Sorry, I'm not too used to places like these." You smile awkwardly at Jade.

And berate yourself internally because you're supposed to be mature and experienced and whatever.

"Nonsense dear, we're not here to keep up appearances." Thankfully, he's always a very nice person (if you ignore him being one of the leaders of possibly the biggest organized crime group in the world). He even pulls your chair out for you and everything. "I just wish for you to have an enjoyable time. Now tell me about the types of dishes you like, and perhaps any allergies?"

"Oh, I don't have any allergies. But I like chicken, and mushrooms!" You grin at him happily.

He pauses at your words, which makes you think that maybe you said something wrong, causing you to bow your head and stare at the French squiggles you just can't understand on the menu you're holding.

"I like mushrooms too."

The smile he gives you is all too blinding. You've always known he was rather pretty, but seeing him smile like this makes you aware of his insane face card. Him liking mushrooms wasn't on the file (even the international police force doesn't have much on the Leech brothers' files, much less Ashengrotto's), but you're glad you have something else to talk to him about. 

"I even grow them myself."

Your jaw drops and you have to stop yourself from barreling over the table and onto him as words just start pouring out of your mouth. "Seriously? That's so cool! Where do you grow them? Did you learn by yourself? Can you teach me? Do you think I can grow some too? Oh, wait!" You clear your throat and lean back on your chair. You're blowing your cover again, you just know it. "I mean, that sounds cool. Apologies for rambling."

Jade laughs and waves you off.

"No, I like that you're so passionate. You've been to my home before, perhaps you'd enjoy going back after dinner? I'll show you my terrariums."

"Awesome!"

You'll remember to keep up your disguise later.

Your waiter comes by with recommendations and wine, and your date is too sweet with how he constantly asks for your opinion. When you show any form of hesitance, he easily helps you out whether it be with ordering your entree or asking for another plate. Conversation flows too naturally with the teal-haired man and dinner leads to checking his terrariums, to staying up too late drinking sips of his stash of red wine while he helps you make a terrarium of your own, to passing out on his bed next to him.

When you wake up the next day, you realize you forgot to probe for information.

Oh well.

You can always see Jade next time.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Everyday, you get more and more delectable.

"Whatcha' watchin', Jade?" Floyd leans over his shoulder to peer at the monitor in front of him. On the screen is you, oh lovely, beautiful, adorable you, in a skin tight suit made of a fabric that clings to your every curve so wonderfully. You do a turn to evade your opponent and land a kick on their abdomen. "Eh? Who's this spiky little pufferfish? New toy o' yours?"

"Not a toy." Even Jade is surprised by the words that leave his lips, but it curls into a sickeningly sweet smile as he continues. "They're cute, aren't they? Feisty."

You send the other person to the edge of the ring with a punch.

"What, so you'll keep 'em?"

When your opponent rushes back to you, you do a series of beautiful and swift movements to bring them down on their knees. Admittedly, the smallest part of him is rather jealous by the way you step on the person's chest to keep them down.

"Absolutely. They'll make a cute pet~"

"Hah, you're so weird." Floyd rolls his eyes and stands back up properly. "The Interpol'll notice your cameras soon, y'know they're not that stupid to keep their own training grounds unchecked."

"That's why I'm recording, of course."

"Freak."

"You wound me, truly."

For what he'd said about keeping you as a pet, he gets annoyingly ticked off at the sight of you helping up your comrade slash sparring partner. The way you laugh so unrestrainedly and smile so freely, in ways you refuse to do in front of him—your mission target—made him narrow his eyes and memorize the face of that friend of yours. Perhaps the frustration bubbling in his chest was only because his pet was rather uncooperative at the moment, still stubbornly holding onto the shredded pieces of your shoddy disguise. With that, he has no chance of seeing your many facets in the way you'd present them to a friend, to someone closer; because he dislikes that alias very much.

(He'll pull the Y/N L/N out of you sooner than later.)

"Whatever, just make sure to clean up or Azul's gonna be pissed."

"Of course."

He watches your figure leave the training ground and the camera's range.

Jade is a capable man who enjoys games.

And what game would be more fun than turning a police dog against its owners?

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"And, open your eyes!"

You fidget with your hands nervously, trying to hide your anxiousness with a proud grin. You glance at the spread you'd poured your time and effort into; a typical red plaid blanket splayed out over the grass under the shade of a large tree, a wicker basket with its contents already laid out on the blanket. Finger sandwiches and little jars of pasta and lemon iced tea and tiny cake slices in glass tupperwares. You look back at Jade who you'd asked to dress more casually today for your (you can't really count anymore at this point) date, wondering if he dislikes your little surprise.

"Um, I know it seems sudden, but I made it all myself." You blush and kneel down on the blanket to grab the utensils. "Because, the button mushrooms you helped me grow, they grew really nice and big so I chopped them up and put them into a bolognese, so I thought maybe you'd like to try my cooking!" You feel so embarrassed because why is Jade still so quiet holy shit, though the shame fades when he tugs you into his arms.

"Jade...?"

"Apologies." He pulls away slightly to kiss your forehead. "I am very touched by the thought. I appreciate your effort, my dear, and I look forward to tasting your cooking."

You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

It had felt like a chore the first few weeks, but touching him, kissing him, loving him is starting to feel good. Natural. Right.

It's not. But it feels right.

"You better, I was up from four a.m., you know?" You let out a grumble when he hums so happily, swaying you in his arms. "So next date, you owe me your cooking too."

"Of course, my dear."

"With no poisonous mushrooms?"

"I don't recall agreeing to that condition."

It's so peaceful when he gives you his commentary on your dishes and gives you advice regarding the iced tea you'd made, and there's such a lovely calmness when you take a nap with him after eating, curled up into each other under the shade, your head on his chest and his legs around your own. Everything else fades away when he helps you pack up your jars and tupperwares into your wicker basket and drives you home.

He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles with a close-eyed smile.

"Goodbye, my dear. Think of me always."

You close the door in his face so he doesn't see the blush on yours.

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

There's filth in the room, he can feel it with every pair of eyes that is shamelessly drinking in the sight of you. A polite curve to the lips, arm wrapped securely around you, he walks into the gala with the feeling of his favorite handgun digging into his thigh. He expects the night to go flawlessly; Azul would never throw an event that would end up in shambles, and your little organization is far too wary of this party being a trap to actually make a move. It doesn't change the bitter taste lingering in the back of his throat when these greasy middle-aged folks that Azul coined as "business partners" stared at you with their tongues lolling out like mutts sniffing a new treat.

Say, would his boss mind if he committed a little bit of homicide?

"Jade?"

Ah, but you look so sweet, looking up at him nervously. You must recognize the ugly faces, yes? Each and every one in the interconnected web of hell that Azul ruled over. "Don't worry darling, they're all friendly." Jade smiles, a genuine one, sweeping a glance over the crowd. "I'll make sure of it for you."

You seem comforted enough by his words, yet you still slink away into his side.

(Don't you know he's one of the most dangerous people here?)

"Azul, Floyd, this is my darling." He feels you freeze up when he introduces you to his brother and friend boss. His fingers run up and down your back in a soothing motion as he watches gears turn in the two's heads. "My love, this is Azul Ashengrotto. He's my superior of sorts. And this is Floyd, my twin brother."

The word 'love' has their eyes widen for just a split second.

Azul reaches out a hand to shake yours. "My, it's a pleasure to meet you. Jade has told us a lot about you." You smile nervously and shake his hand. Before his brother can full on tackle you and likely interrogate you about your relationship status, Jade gently pushes you off to the crowd with a nasty glare behind your back towards the piranhas circling.

"Do socialize for a bit, dear. I have a few things I need to talk about with them." He doesn't mention the bodyguards he'd gestured to keep an eye on you.

"So," Azul crosses his arms, "love, hm?"

Jade lets the polite smile fade from his face as he looks at them, one gloved hand on his chest. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

"You said pet!" Floyd huffs, shaking Jade by the arms. "No fair! What's with the secrets, Jaaaaade? You were supposed to tell me everything! When did you get a partner?"

"I wasn't lying, I just started seeing them differently." He consoles his brother with a chuckle.

"And how are you planning to keep it up?"

"Pardon?"

"Yeah, that person's a noobie undercover, right? Ya' can't hold on to some lousy loyal cop." Floyd rolls his eyes. "Don't be silly Jade, that loyalty's no good if it ain't yours."

"I'm sure he's already thought of that."

"But he doesn't seem prepared to let 'em go, though? A pet's fine, but if it's somethin' else, it'll be trouble."

Jade smiles again. "Not a pet anymore, no, but it's not that hard to train a lover either, is it?"

"What, you truly think that cop will fall for you enough that they'll throw away their principles and ideals for you?" Azul scoffs. "Without torture?"

"You think they won't?"

Azul and Floyd share a look then shrug in unison.

"I don't think there's a lot you can't do, to be honest."

"I don't care, long as you get those annoying do-gooders outta my face, capiche?"

Some days you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

It's boring.

God, it's so boring.

If you had known you would be subjecting yourself to petty small talk and the lecherous eyes of sleazy men twice, maybe three times your age, you would've clung on harder to Jade and forced yourself into whatever conversation he'd needed to have with Azul and Floyd. But then again, you don't think you have enough calm to face the Azul Ashengrotto without shaking in your boots (he's rich and evil and super duper powerful!). Floyd you can sort of handle, you do well with violence. Jade you slept with the night you met, so there wasn't all too much about him that still made you nervous. But Azul, that man's smart. You can't deal with wits like that—wits that gave him claws to dig his way out of whatever hellhole he was born in and right to the top of the food chain. He'll blow your cover all too easy.

You shift your champagne to the other hand and nod at your conversation partner.

No you don't get what he's bragging about, and you really don't care. This place is filled to the brim with the very wretches of society, faces you know from the red files you kept at headquarters. They parade around in human skins and even now, not a single person has said anything that even remotely implied ill-gotten wealth or human trafficking or whatever, so you know they're really good at keeping up face.

This one, he's getting a little too handsy.

"I can show you a good time."

You raise your hand to smash the champagne flute into his ugly face (Jade would definitely cover for you).

When did you get so confident?

Two big and bulky men in suits appear out of nowhere—they might be the asshole's bodyguards—but no, they restrain the other man and faster than you can blink, you're alone again with only the echoes of his shouting. You catch Jade's gaze on you from the corner of the room where he's still with Azul and Floyd.

His lips curl up in mischief and he winks.

Looks like your confidence wasn't misplaced, at least.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

"Jade, baby, I think we're lost."

"Nonsense, my pearl. I've been here a million times."

"You should've taken the left at the exit!"

"No, this is a shortcut."

"Jade!"

"Yes, my lovely backseat driver?"

He watches from the corner of his eye as you hold onto your seatbelt for dear life. "Where are we going?! It's not in the map. I swear if you actually get us lost—"

"What will you do?"

You pout at him. "Cry."

"Don't be so dramatic my love, I told you, I've been there before." Jade muses, one hand on the wheel and the other gently patting your thigh. He takes another turn and chuckles. "See? Look at the GPS, we're back on track."

When the Range Rover comes to a stop near a familiar campsite (he was not taking the Rolls Royce into the woods, thank you very much), you immediately hop out of your seat and start to fiddle with the items you'd brought with you. He gets out to help you carry the foldable tent and set it up not too far from the car. "Jade, did you buy new sleeping bags? These weren't the ones we used when we went to the lake." He watches on happily as you figure out there's only one, two-person sleeping bag.

"Wow. Are you cutting corners or are you just that clingy?"

"Whatever do you mean, love?" Jade turns to take out the coats he'd brought along, forcing you into one of them as you whined about its puffiness. Unfortunately, he'd rather not have a frozen lover to roast over the bonfire with the marshmallows. He intertwines your hand with his as you walk side by side on the trail, and he talks to you about safety procedures when hiking ("Do try not to separate, dear.") and protocols ("If you see a bear when I'm not around, say your last prayers." "What if you're around?" "I have a gun if it's really aggressive, don't worry about it." "Why do you have a gun, Jade?") and what kind of mushrooms would be safe to pick without gloves ("In general, if it's colorful, best leave it to me.").

He has such a great time hiking with his cute partner, even if you don't notice his camera taking snapshots every few minutes or so.

With a sack full of mushrooms and other flora, the both of you make your way back to the campsite. He starts on a fire while you set up the foldable chairs and prepare the ingredients for whatever would be dinner. He thinks it should be the mushrooms you had just gathered together, you think it should be something actually edible, and he relents if only because you compromise to add some non-poisonous mushrooms into a stew for dinner. The night ends with your intertwined bodies in the sleeping bag, Jade peppering kisses all over your face as you giggle and try to squirm out of your constraints (the sleeping bag and his arms).

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Jade."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"I know how to shoot a gun."

—Were the words that spiked your competitiveness with your boyfriend. It wasn't your fault, really, but when that frustratingly pretty face got that smug look that just seemed like it was doubting your abilities, you felt the need to prove yourself. You weren't the brightest bulb in the, ugh, in the string of Christmas lights around the pine tree? But! You prided yourself on your ability to fight. Whether that be with a gun or a knife or just with your bare fists, you'd slammed foes several times bigger and stronger than you to the ground by virtue of pure skill. So to hear Jade questioning one of your rare mastered skills (he would probably argue otherwise) made your blood boil.

So. Shooting range.

You know he's experienced with guns, but you're pretty sure a sniper rifle is new even for him. You help him assemble it and get into proper position.

"My, how scandalous, my darling instructor. In broad daylight too?"

You grimace at his words.

"I'm just trying to get you into the right position!"

"Oh? And what position would be to your preference?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I feel like I've asked you the same question before too—"

"Jade, there are people—"

"—Did you say missionary or—"

"Oh my fucking gods."

"—Perhaps you said you preferred riding?"

You glare harshly at your boyfriend who was giving you the sweetest smile you'd ever seen on his cute face (no doubt to spite you), and you look around frantically in search of other people. Thankfully you're alone. But it doesn't stop you from repeatedly (softly) hitting his shoulder while he laughed at your expressions, sharp teeth showing. You poke a finger to the corner of his lips, which he quickly nibbles on. "What are you, a dog?" He pulls away just to lean back in and kiss your lips.

"Arf~"

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Your phone rings in the dead of night. Jade groans and pats you awake to answer, and you console him with a kiss before looking at the contact.

It says 'That Guy'.

Jade murmurs out a question while you hurriedly leave the bed to put on a robe. "I just need to take this call, baby. I'll be right back." You answer the phone out of earshot, leaning against the railing of the balcony. A familiar voice travels through your phone and right to your heart. It stirs memories and realizations you're not quite ready to face again; the biting chill of the wind feels similar to the worry gnawing at you. "Agent L/N."

"...Reporting, sir."

It's still muscle memory, the response and the subconscious salute. 

(Is it still muscle memory to defend yourself against Jade, the way you were taught to?)

"How is your mission?"

You bite back the urge to say 'What mission?'. Ahhh Y/N L/N you're just so stupid, aren't you? First ever mission, your first big responsibility, your first big chance to be someone worth something. You look back at the bedroom and catch a glimpse of Jade's shadow on the bed. You were supposed to worm out information but gods, you've never even tried. It's like every single time he's with you your brain starts to melt into a hot pink sludge. "I'm working on it, sir." You lie because there's nothing else you can do. Where can you run when Jade finds out you were only using him? Where can you run when the Interpol thinks of you as a dead man because they believe you've betrayed them?

Where can you go when everything comes crashing down?

"It's only to be expected, such a man should be awfully guarded even against his own. Keep up the good work and remember to report back when you find anything."

Hah. Jade was barely ever guarded against you, if at all. You could've tapped his electronics at any time or tracked every car he owns. You just...never did. And the realization forces you to redraw your lines. You know exactly where your loyalty lies, don't you? You end the call and look at the lights in the distance; the city is never asleep. It's bursting with neon signs and traffic lights, but the noise doesn't reach the safe haven that's Jade's little villa. Start to make plans. Rethink it all over. You walk back into the bedroom and further, to the guest room you'd never once used but has way too much of your things in. In a suitcase pocket that's invisible to the naked eye, you pick up a packet of tiny buttons.

You hope Jade won't miss you too much in bed when you make a trip to the garage.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

"Happy birthday, Jade!"

"Happy birthday, Floyd."

There's blood in the air, early morning in November. Jade looks up from his newspaper at his brother who was happily dragging a limp body into his pristine living room, sack over its head. "Oh dear, I hope you've called for cleanup. I have a date later today and I would rather not have Y/N turned off the moment I open the front door." He frowns slightly and puts the newspaper down. With careful steps, he approaches the unconscious person and yanks the sack off its face. "Is this your birthday present for me, brother?"

"Yep!"

"Well," Jade smirks, kicking the head awake. "I appreciate the effort."

"Make sure to pay me back, 'kay~?"

"Of course."

The young woman stirs awake, but his eardrums are saved by the duct tape that Floyd had slapped over her mouth. She looked around in a panic and struggled against the ropes binding her wrists and ankles together. "Hello there, Agent Assyra. You're my darling Y/N's favorite sparring partner, aren't you?" Jade whispers softly with a polite smile. A hand gently caresses her hair while she squirms. "I think you'll be good entertainment for me today. Oh, Floyd must have exerted quite a bit of effort bringing you to me, I ought to meet his expectations."

"Damn right." Floyd whines as he collapses on the sofa. "That bitch put up a fucking fight. 'M still sore from her kicking, she just had to do it in stilettos, didn't she?"

"I can imagine. Floyd, pass me the box under the cushion."

Floyd hands him a small box with his favorite set of scalpels inside it. 

"Let's see, it's quite unhygienic to do it in the living room, but I don't plan to let you live too long anyway. I suppose Y/N and I will just have to settle for a hotel room tonight." He hums a merry little tune as he made small incisions in her skin, the blade easily digging through the flesh. "You must have a tracker somewhere in your bloodstream, let's find it, shall we? Oh, I've always wanted to dissect an Interpol agent."

"Why didn't you dissect your Y/N?"

"That's not very funny, Floyd." Jade chuckles. He cuts a line down her arm and watches the blood flow down his rug. "I'll have to remember to buy a new rug. Perhaps Y/N can help me shopping~"

"Bah, you're sooo whipped it's gross."

He makes another line on her leg, gently prodding at the layer of skin and looking for the tracker. "I am a man domesticated."

"Happy birthday—um, Jade...?"

He freezes at the front door being suddenly shoved open with a happy-turned-concerned voice, slowly looking at the person by the door. It's you. In a cute sweater with a big box in your hands, hair sprinkled with snow and eyes wide in horrified shock. "Uh oh." He hears Floyd giggle, and the girl under him moves around more to grab your attention. You look at the girl, then at Jade, then at the cake in your hands. Then at the girl again. "Assyra...?" She nods helplessly. He thinks you might run forward to help your fellow agent (who was clearly on the verge of death from severe bloodloss), but the only thing you do is look at the scalpel in Jade's hand, and back to his eyes. You maintain eye contact while you slowly put down your box and leave as if nothing happened.

"Guess you're single again. Sad."

He ignores his brother's words, running to the box you'd left behind.

Inside is a big cake that he assumes is homemade, half chocolate and half strawberry and whipped cream. It looks decent, and he could feel your efforts in the two-colored icing writing out a message on the top.

'Happy Birthday, Jade! Love you lots :D'

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Another pull of the trigger, another lifeless body falling to a heap on the ground. He looks on expressionlessly as Azul glances at him with a raised eyebrow before continuing to talk to the person whose lackey Jade had just killed.

"As you can see, Jade isn't feeling too patient today, so if you could just—"

He shoots another bullet, just barely grazing the man's ear before it enters the wall.

"Okay! I agree, I agree, forty percent, yes!" The man nods and signs the contract before scampering away with his (useless) guards. "While I do like a good deal, is there any explanation for your trigger happy behavior?" Azul looks at him in confusion. Floyd takes the offending firearm from his hand and pushes him to sit down on the armrest of Azul's big fancy chair.

"The little cop ghosted him, and he ain't too happy 'bout it." Floyd explains as he puts the gun on the table.

"They were supposed to run back." Jade finally speaks, brows furrowing. "The timing was off, it was an accident they weren't supposed to see. Their conditioning was incomplete and if their higher-ups catch a whiff of their feelings for me, they'll rewire my pearl back to being their little hound. They need to be back to me, and fast."

"Sorry, Jade, maybe I shoulda' brought that bitch in another time."

"It's not your fault." He sighs.

"Then? Why haven't you found them yet?"

Jade looks at Azul. "Have I become predictable? Because the men I've sent off, and the camera footage I've been keeping track of—all of them seem completely avoided. It's like they know my move two steps before I do it."

"Perhaps you've truly met your match."

"Or maybe your pearly's trapped at headquarters." Floyd smirks. "Let's go there! Like a field trip, except with guns and bombs."

"Absolutely not."

"Aww, Azul, you're no fun."

Jade leans back against the chair, looking at his phone lockscreen; a picture of the two of you cupping a mushroom with smiles on your faces. He hovers his thumb above your figure. He unlocks the screen to dial your number again. Like the previous one hundred and fifty two times, it only rings endlessly. Frustrated, Jade stands up, pockets his phone, and picks up his gun again. "Don't you have five more people to meet? Get them in." He snaps at Azul, and the man only pushes his glasses up and shrugs. He clicks a button and the door opens. In comes another greasy, balding, middle-aged loser with some eye candy on his arm, trying to look not so desperate.

Jade aims for his forehead.

"Oh dear, Jade's truly in a bad mood right now, Mr. Sanchez. Let's get this over with quickly before his finger slips." Azul drawls with a smirk, pushing the contract forward.

"Sign here, please."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"Whoop! On your left, Jaaaaade~"

He clicks his tongue and dodges accordingly, a flying metal bat hurtling through the air. The smoke and gasoline is choking, but the smell of blood could barely even make him flinch at this point. He turns to kick an incoming assailant in the gut, effortlessly catching a handgun thrown his way by his twin. "Jade! Grab the sparklies, okay?" Jade sighs and opens the sack, sweeping the mess of jewelry inside it and sealing it shut. Somehow, Floyd's idea of 'letting loose and forgetting cops that ghost you' was robbing a luxury jewelry store, just the two of them. Sibling bonding time, of sorts. While he normally wouldn't mind, he's been feeling all too ill without your presence.

"Oh pearl, when will you come back to me?"

He sighs listlessly. A shot is fired towards another guard before he goes to pick up a string of pearls and wear it around his neck. Everything just reminds him of you.

"Sirens, haha!"

At Floyd's signal, he lugs the sack over one shoulder and runs with his brother to the armored car they'd yanked from Azul. He hops into the driver's seat while throwing the 'sparklies' onto his brother's lap.

They don't get very far before a barricade of police cars force them to stop.

"That's no fun." Floyd pouts.

"Backup?"

"Nah, it's cool. Let's just spend a while in a jail cell, I wanna see Azul pop a vein, hehe~"

He could almost imagine Azul's reaction to them getting arrested. He shares a look with his twin and they hop out the car in unison, hands in the air and weapons thrown to the ground. His eyes widen when he realizes the person walking towards him with handcuffs was you.

"Jade Leech." You say sternly, tugging at his arms and cuffing his wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

Someone else takes Floyd in.

You push him to a police car and just before you can walk off, he helplessly whispers to you. Not a cry for help, not a plea, no.

A soft, hopeful, sickly sweet "My love." that makes you stop for one moment. Just one.

Before you continue walking.

He lost the gamble.

And above all else—

He'd lost you.

Teeth

Teeth

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

Floyd's in a separate cell.

He's flattered, honestly. His own cell is so heavily guarded, cameras and guards everywhere, it makes him feel very important. But it's quite boring, only a bed, a sink, and a shoddily covered toilet. He thinks the clothes look horrendous, and he's patiently awaiting his dear boss who would never leave him nor his brother rotting in a maximum security prison for the rest of their lives. But hours pass by and he's getting rather antsy. How long would it take Azul to bust him out?

The lights go out.

He sinks into his little cot and looks out the tiny window. It's barely even dark and they expect him to go to sleep, somehow.

Who sleeps at 7 in the—

Boom!

He sits up with a grin. Seems like it wasn't scheduled after all.

There's the sounds of fighting and gunshots and explosions and screaming. It all quietens eventually, leaving him on the edge of his seat for whichever side came out on top. There's footsteps in the hallway. Blue tinted silvery hair and glasses hiding an annoyed glare—it's Azul. Floyd comes barreling in a second later. "Jade. I didn't expect your depression to be so bad you'd let yourself get arrested." His friend boss unlocks the door and he steps out with a stretch.

"My apologies. I must admit I was rather preoccupied with my loss."

"Then congratulations."

They walk down the halls littered with dead bodies and Azul's men making sure the dead bodies stayed dead.

"Pardon?"

"It was quite difficult getting through the bulletproof gate, much less just finding this hellhole. Top secret, off the grid, heavily guarded and everything."

"Well then, I thank you for your efforts."

They step out of the prison and back to the grounds.

"Yes yes, but they weren't all my efforts you know?"

He sees a familiar silhouette.

"This place is Interpol property, after all."

"Jade!" You run towards him and tackle him into a hug. He can barely believe his eyes, but he hugs you back so tight you start gasping for air.

"Why...?"

You smile. "My name's Y/N L/N, I killed that alias! I graduated from X police academy, but just recently, I leaked confidential information from the international police force to one of the biggest crime groups in the world. It was fun!"

"Fun?"

"Yeah, but now I'm wanted and have nowhere else to stay." You tug on his sleeve. "Stranger, you got an extra bedspace? I just escaped from getting killed by my former mentors and I'm all tuckered out."

He carries you in his arms and kisses you hard.

[buckgasms]

Doctors' Barnes and Rogers (Part 3)

Part threeeeeee! This kinda gets a bit fluffy at the end so who knows what the heck is happening but I hope you enjoy it!

Doctor kink, breeding kink, dubious doctors behaving dubiously but also sweet so..... Also pregnancy talk so please avoid if that may upset you ❤️

Part One // Part Two

The next week you were inundated with tasks and paperwork to read over before your next session with the Doctors. Copious notes about your cycle, number of times you felt aroused in the weeks and detailed descriptions on what that consisted of.

It was a bit embarrassing to send these off every evening but Dr Barnes insisted it would be helpful. Some of your deepest fantasies, and some more recent thoughts about your recent encounter with two hot doctors. Hopefully they wouldn't judge you too much.

Dr Rogers had emailed you requesting images which you had felt even more embarrassed about, but complied in the name of science. You sent him images of your pretty pussy for the most part, but he also seemed to need pictures of your ass, breasts and even one of your mouth open. It made little sense to you but he said it was all required for the process, so you did it. The more you spoke to them and thought about having a little baby of your own you felt more desperate to get everything right and make them happy. You didn't want to risk them kicking you off the programme just because you didn't send a little picture here and there.

⚕️

Eventually the date arrived where you would go through the first procedure. You felt incredibly nervous but also so excited. You still didn't quite know what the process was going to look like, but if it was anything like your check up you were quite happy with that. Dr. Barnes did say it was quite 'revolutionary' so who knows what was in store?

It was a day time appointment for a change but the whole office was completely empty. "We shut the place for today, it's a special day sweetheart" Bucky said, guiding you into his examination room, a place you were starting to look forward to being. "I'm excited, but I do feel a bit scared Doctor." You mumble as he takes your coat and hangs it up before turning to you and taking your soft hand in his warm one.

"Hey, everything is going to be fine. Steve and I are going to take such good care of you and make sure you feel great the whole time. You've trusted us this far, keep going sweetie." You smiled and squeezed his hand back nodding eagerly. "You're right, it's going to be great..."

At that moment Steve walked in and smiled at the little scene in front of him. "How are we today? Ready to make a baby?" You giggled and nodded again making them smile at you. "Oh did all my pictures come through Dr. Rogers?" You ask, heat flaring in your cheeks as you suddenly wanted to know he liked them, even though that wasn't the point!

"Oh they were marvelous, really helpful. And your little diary was also enlightening. So glad you enjoyed your time with us last time..." You thought you might die from embarrassment but they just chuckled and nudged you.

"Ok sweetie, we're gonna try and few things out today, so if it's uncomfortable just tell us, the better you feel, the more chance it has of working right?" You nod and they start moving round the room as you wait for instruction.

"Right, we need you to undress now honey and we'll get everything set up." Steve said before providing a screen for you to take your clothes off. As you did so, you could hear movement on the other side, equipment being moved and a bit of huffing from the doctors.

You peaked around the screen and watched them set up a bench, with a thin flat leather cushion. It looked quite...kinky and you couldn't help feel a twinge of excitement through your body. They turned around and caught you peeking. "Come here sweet thing, nothing to be frightened of..." Bucky said, holding out a hand for you, which you gratefully took after shuffling over, an arm over your breasts as you approached them.

"This is a sort of breeding bench. You have to lay face down on this soft cushion here and we can stimulate you from either end. We can also tilt the bench once you are inseminated to make sure it really takes. You should be nice and comfortable but if you need to move at any time, you just let us know. Any questions so far?"

"Um, how will the...insemination bit happen?" You say quietly, nibbling on your finger and looking between them. "Well we can do it two ways. Either we can use a machine, but that might be a bit uncomfortable..." Steve said, looking at your seriously and you bit your lip. "Oh, what's the other option?" He rubs your back, making your skin tingle, before brushing your hair away from your face. "Dr. Barnes and I are happy to provide samples directly. That way we can adjust to your comfort and monitor you more closely."

Your eyes widened at the thought. You'd had a little bit of first hand experience with their direct approach. They were both very well endowed and you wondered out loud, "do you think I can take you?" They both chuckled and rubbed your arms and back, "absolutely sweetheart, we've done the tests and you're perfect for us... but it's up to you of course..."

There was a beat in the air until finally you nodded. "Let's do it that way. I don't want to be uncomfortable with a machine. Are you sure that's ok?" They nodded quickly and told you it was absolutely fine with them.

"Good, that's really good honey. Are you ready to start?"

They guided you onto the bench, your breasts hung down on either side of the leather and you rested your chin on your folded arms as they positioned your legs into place. You felt remarkably relaxed for the compromising position you were in, but you were in good hands. Hands that were now running over your soft skin, squeezing gently at you making you sigh.

"Feeling good?" Bucky asks, a clear amusement in his voice as his fingers squeeze at your ass cheeks before running down your leg. "Mmm yeah, this is so comfy" you almost moan.

"Good, anything changes, let us know. We'll get started then, just relax and let us do the work."

You try and watch them but it's difficult from your position, so you decide to close your eyes and try and figure it out from the sensations. You think it's Bucky who is settled between your legs, running his hands along your upper thighs, occasionally rubbing across your folds, making you moan quietly into your arms.

Your moan becomes louder when Steve grips your nipple between his fingers and starts squeezing and twisting. In moments you are humping Bucky's hand as he rubs more vigorously along your wet slit. "Good girl, so responsive for us hmm?" Steve mutters in your ear as he pulls and tweaks at you.

"Tell me how it feels" Bucky says and you whine, "feels good...want more please?" You are begging already, but it only seems to make them happy. Steve attaches a suction cup to your breasts which makes you cry out in delight before you feel his hand brush at your hair. You manage to open your eyes as Bucky sinks a finger into your pussy, his thumb rubbing firmly at your clit. "Want something in your mouth honey?" He asks and you moan, nodding your head and reaching for him.

His cock springs free and you immediately latch on, focusing all your tension and desperation on his thick length, sucking harder than you ever had. "Jesus Christ, she's feeling needy today" Steve growls, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts slowly in and out of your mouth.

Bucky, unable to retain his impatience anymore, slips his cock free of his boxers and lines up to your aching heat. Thanks to his excellent preparation he glides in until he is flush with your ass, and begins to rut. You are already fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them open.

"That feel good baby? You like that" he mutters, testing a quick spank to your pretty cheeks as he fucks you. Pausing for air you cry out a yes, before Steve guides you back to him. Tears stream down the face as pleasure rips through your body, their unrelenting pace already making you feel like you are floating on air.

"Gonna make us a baby ain't ya? Gonna be a good girl for us and make us a daddy hmm?" Steve says through gritted teeth as he pulls out of your hungry mouth. He crouches down and presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead. "Nothing I'd like more than to see you swallow my come honey, but gotta save it for your pretty cunt right? We're gonna fill you up.."

You nod and reach your hands out for him which he takes, pressing more kisses to your messy lips. "Already drunk on cock honey? We knew you'd be the perfect little candidate. Like a little bunny ain't ya? Just made for getting fucked and full right?"

As he goads you, Bucky rams his cock faster into your aching hole, his fingers rubbing at your clit from underneath. Your hips buck at the sensations but they have you tied down just enough that any movement doesn't get you very far. "Atta girl, gonna make me come, just keep squeezing me like that sweetness" he groans. The tension builds in your stomach until one final swipe has it snapping, your orgasm ripping through you and clamping down on Bucky.

His groans mix with your wails, as you squeeze Steve's hand even tighter until you drop everything, laying there panting as your lower half twitches. When he's satisfied Bucky pulls out but you suddenly feel Steve slide in and continue the steady pace.

"Ah I can't... S'too sensitive" you cry but Bucky has taken position at your head. "Come on sweetheart, we don't want to waste any samples. You can do it. For us, I know you can..." Steve keeps his hips moving steadily, but not too rough to hurt so you can only let the pressure build again. You watch Bucky fiddle with the suction cup on your breast, the vibrations and suction getting stronger until you can't contain your scream as another powerful orgasm rips through you and Steve is filling you up.

After a moment where you think you must have stopped breathing you feel the table tilt forward and a tape is put over your sensitive pussy. "Did so well for us baby. Gonna leave you here for a bit to get that settled, then we'll do it all again."

"Again?" You cry, not knowing how you could possibly manage another round of that. They chuckle and press a little kiss each to your face. "Yes silly, don't you know it takes lots and lots of goes to make sure it all works. Today's the best day to do it. Although we might even keep you in overnight so we can keep going..."

You begin to protest but Bucky presses another kiss to your face and switches on the suction cups, cutting your voice off immediately and replaces it with a groan. "That's better" he says before providing his thumb for you to suck on which you cant resist as he pushes it passed your lips.

"Don't worry, we want to take care of you sweetheart. We know just what you need..."

⚕️

After a few more rounds you needed to change position, so Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you to a more comfortable couch. From there, they both spent what felt like hours fucking you full.

The idea of getting you pregnant seemed to fill them with an insatiable lust. They fucked you until your holes were aching, each flick to your clit was like agony, but you couldn't resist how good it felt either.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're milking me dry?" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, as you could only mewl in delight. "Aw has our pretty girl gone dumb for cock" Bucky mocked softly as he rubbed your clit while Steve filled you up again.

Bucky swiftly takes his place, pushing your aching pussy apart and spitting on your messy heat. "Fuck!" You cry out, already on the edge as he presses in to you. "Don't let it come out sweetheart, dont wanna waste a drop do you?" You shake your head as he slides in and out, every nerve ending on fire as he does.

"See that little bunny" Steve says, tugging at your aching heat, making your squeal. "That's a pussy being used correctly, filled with come and begging for more... Fucking perfect.."

Your whole body shakes as he keeps rubbing while Bucky groans, unable to contain his orgasm as you come yet again.

"Good girl, take it all, every drop" he moans, wrapping a hand around your throat as he fucks through his release.

Finally they decide to move you somewhere more comfortable and in the space of moving you, you fall asleep so they leave you to rest for a little while.

When you woke there was a jug of water, a bowl of fruit and a plate of sandwiches which you tucked into. While you nibbled you glanced down at your aching heat and found it puffy and overused, but not feeling at all bad about it. Your mind drifted back to when you and your ex husband had tried for a baby and you sometimes never even orgasmed, let alone felt like this. You had realised that all along he had lied to you and made you feel terrible when it was him who was the problem. But you didn't want to dwell anymore on him. It was pointless.

You took in the rest of your body, swollen nipples, little marks from their hands and lips as they had kissed, and bitten and sucked at you. You bit your lip remembering how you had written all these things in your diary to them. Clearly they had taken it very seriously, which you appreciated.

As you were beginning to wonder where they were, they arrived back into the office where they left you. There faces full of brightness at the sight of you awake.

"There's our girl! Are you feeling ok sweetie?" They both took time fussing over you, pressing your tummy for any aches, massaging your legs and hands and pressing cold stethoscopes to your chest making you giggle, as they tried to warm them up but failing.

"I feel fine I promise" you said after calming down and gripping their hands. They both leaned in a pressed a kiss to each cheek, but you felt bold and leaned over to Bucky then Steve, stealing a kiss on the lips from both of them.

"Oh sweetie, you really are perfect ain't ya?" Bucky says, pulling you back for a longer kiss before guiding you over to Steve so he could kiss you deeper, making you moan.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you back in there, you ready?" Bucky says, squeezing your thighs and you nod eagerly. You go to stand but he tuts and slips his arms under you and picks you up, making you squeak and wrap your arms around his neck. "I gotcha" he whispers and you steal another kiss from him, feeling so safe and happy in his arms. Before you are finally released and eagerly climb into place and settle down, wiggling at the anticipation.

⚕️

After a whole day they decide that the work they've done should be enough for now. They take you home in Bucky's car with Steve carrying you up to your apartment, which although you insist ksnt nessecary, you grip him tighter and lay your head on his shoulder. While Bucky unlocks your door Steve presses kisses to your forehead, all of your feeling quite happy with the amount of kisses being passed around.

Seeing the sorry state of your flat you cringe as you go inside. At least you had the forethought to tidy before you went to them the day before.

Bucky finds your pyjamas and once Steve pops down he gently helps you change as if you are precious cargo. You giggle as you tell him so and he smiles at you. "Sweetheart, you are..." He presses a hand to your tummy and you smile back "the most precious as far as we're concerned..."

Your tummy flips with something new but you decide not to worry right now. You feel exhausted despite the many naps you've had. "Ok you gotta sleep, eat and drink as much as possible. Try to leave the shower or bath until tomorrow morning if you can just to be sure." Steve says, placing a big water bottle on your side, with a bag of groceries on your kitchen table, filling up the fridge with healthy but delicious goodies.

"Ok I promise...when do you think I can do a test?" You say, as you snuggle up into your blankets. They explain that you might have to wait until next week, but if it's negative they can just keep repeating the process until it sticks.

You nod, feeling nervous but excited. They both kiss you goodbye and leave. You feel suddenly overwhelmed at the silence, having had such a crazy 24 hours of close, initmate contact. You take a big drink of water before sinking back into your pillows, your eyes fluttering closed as your mind was filled with images of them surrounding you and the pleasure that comes with it.

⚕️

One week later you are waiting nervously in your bathroom, a pregnancy test perched on the sink as you nibble your finger and watch the stopwatch on your phone.

You daren't look. You've been in this position so many times before it just feels horrible. You still have 2 minutes to wait but you feel sick at the thought of what's to come. You fiddle with your phone for a moment until you decide to call Bucky.

He answers almost immediately, concern in his voice. "Hi sweetie, everything ok?" You are a little surprised at his quick answer so you stutter for a bit, which makes him even more worried. Finally you manage to choke out, "I'm fine!" You both take a breath before you restart.

"I'm waiting for a test... Got a few more minutes and I just.... I feel scared..." You say quietly, trying to ignore the tears pricking at your eyes. He sighs at the other end and you know he has a concerned look on his face still.

"It's all ok sweetness. Whatever it says we still got you alright? You don't need to worry becaise Steve and I are with you every step of the way..."

You can only nod as he talks, his warm deep voice filling you with calm. Your phone buzzes as the timer runs out and you take a deep breath. "Ok are you ready?" You say and he tells you firmly that he is and it's going to be fine.

With shaky fingers you turn the test over. A little gasp escapes your lips and he asks with a more stressed voice than he would probably like. "What does it say sweetheart?"

Finally you let out a shaky laugh.

"It's positive"

[rachaelthemes]

Ocular — Version 3

Preview // User Guide // More Info & Install

your favorite sidebar theme just got an upgrade, babeyyy

I went to update Ocular to make it NPF post-compliant and then my hand slipped and I redesigned the whole thing lmao. here's a brief update about Ocular 3; if you're looking for a full list of changes between versions 2 and 3, click the "Read More" below)

Ocular comes with the following features:

Colors: easily change the color scheme of your sidebar and posts using any colors you want

Post sizes: 400px, 500px, 540px, 600px, 700px

Sidebar: can be on the left, right, or above the posts. pick from a list of sidebar sizes, header image heights, and avatar shapes

Fonts: 20 different fonts, sizes 13px to 18px

Background: solid, gradient, full-size image or repeating image

Links: choose either regular navigation or drop-down navigation. unlimited custom links (visit the help desk FAQ for a tutorial) and ability to rename home, ask, submit, and archive links

Endless scroll, custom ask box text, Tumblr's full-width controls and search bar, optional header, avatar, and favicon images

if you already have Ocular installed, version 3 should be coming at you as soon as the update passes the theme garden. if you installed this theme with GitHub, you'll have to re-install manually.

now let's get to the fun stuff. what's new in version 3?

wow, do I have some updates for you!

1. goodbye color schemes, hello post background and text colors

you can now directly control the color of the posts rather than relying on color schemes to do it. want your posts to be a very specific shade of navy? all yours, buddy. go wild (make sure it's readable tho)

2. hello, color schemes! wait I thought we got rid of that guy

a lot of the color schemes I made became redundant now that the new post background/text color options exist. if you were married to the old color schemes, all of them can be recreated using those options. so the new color scheme options are as follows:

"My colors" — uses the colors you picked for post background/text

"Light preset" and "dark preset" — sets the posts to white with black text, or off-black with white text

"Translucent" — uses the colors you choose for post background/text, but makes the post backgrounds semi-transparent. there are NINE different translucent color schemes, ranging from 90% (only slightly see-through) to 10% (VERY see through)

3. navigation dropdown option

you can either use the sidebar links like they were before, or you can turn them into a cute little dropdown (helpful if you have lots of links or links with long titles!) you can enable this using the "use dropdown navigation" setting. you can also customize the label for the dropdown using the "dropdown menu label" setting. for instance, the dropdown on my blog currently says "oooh you wanna click me"

4. RIP google fonts I always hated your load times

decided to stop using Google Fonts and instead I'm providing the font files directly in the code. this will help speed up load times drastically when using custom fonts, plus I don't have to use Google. win-win! there's quite a bit of coverage overlap with the old fonts, but some of them that were too similar to each other got the ax. I also added all of the system fonts as options (hit classics like Arial, Georgia, and Comic Sans MS are now available TO YOU!)

5. more layout, sizing, and spacing options

the sidebar used to be either on the center-left, center-right, or above the posts; now it can go in the top-left or top-right! you can now control the border radius on the posts and sidebar. the header height, sidebar width, and post spacing all have additional options.

6. some options have been renamed for additional clarity

"background color 1" -> "background color"

"background color 2" -> "gradient background color"

"background" -> "background style"

"font override" -> "use body font everywhere"

"title" -> "sidebar title"

"description" -> "sidebar description"

"ask box text" -> "custom HTML above ask box"

7. removed some options

you win some, you lose some. I removed the uppercase sidebar links, theme credit, and inline media spacing options, mostly for redundancy reasons or because they produced unclear results.

8. as previously stated, now NPF-compliant

Ocular was ALMOST compliant with Tumblr's new post format, but had a few tweaks that needed to be ironed out. they're now ironed.

9: now user-friendly right out of the box

I updated the default color and content options, so new users installing this theme will have a much easier time using and customizing it immediately. no more ugly ass green background!

10. and finally, new JS

I had to rewrite some of the javascript for this theme, which turned into me rewriting ALL of the javascript. doing so meant that I could eliminate dependencies on third-party JS libraries and run the whole thing on plain JS. that should improve load times!!

bonus: custom CSS can do some nifty stuff now

want to change the size of your avatar? you can do that now! just do this to your Advanced > Add custom CSS section

super helpful if you're using the Avatar shape: Uncropped setting and you need your image to be a specific size (like a pixelated GIF)

for more info, check out the Ocular user guide. thanks for reading my updates!! hope you all have a fantastic start to your 2024 ❤️