#starks bug chapter 18

[mypearlsareclutched]

Because You Got Out of Hand

High By The Beach | Chapter Ten

Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character, Modern!Aegon II x Original Female Character

Perhaps it is nostalgia that makes her sees the bright side of Aemond once again. Perhaps it is her innate desire to feel loved. All that she knows for sure, is that the Targaryen's are a damn good fuck...

Can the Targaryens PLEASE just not have a familial dispute every five minutes, like goddamn. It's three in the morning GO TO SLEEP DAEMON! Also so sorry this has taken so long, life hit me x

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), death, funerals, reunited at last, Targaryen daddy issues, love triangles, rhaenicent crumbs, so much angst, Daemon, Otto, smutty smut, oral sex (f receiving), missionary sex, manhandling, hair pulling, doggy style, Mila and her post nut clarity.

Word count | 5.6k

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Hours after the burial, Mila sits beside Baela on a wall outside of the mansion, the sky growing dark.

With a shaky breath, she lights a cigarette. The click of the lighter and flicker of the flame, and the feeling of the smoke in her lungs comforts the Stark as her mind goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of her feelings.

Baela watches her worriedly, playing with a strand of her hair as her eyes follow Mila's trembling hand. She moves to say something, when another person joins them.

Helaena scurries up to them, looking even more pale than she did before. Both Baela and Mila go to speak when Helaena beats them to it.

"Grandfather is going to read dad's will out now." She murmurs, crouching down to pick up a snail slithering down the pathway. She places it into a nearby bush, before standing again and looking between the two women.

"Yeah, I saw dad stalking off." Baela rolls her eyes, "I swear he grieved Viserys for about fifteen minutes before he started thinking about taking over Dragonrider."

Dragonrider, the illustrious investment company began by Viserys' grandfather, Jaehaerys. Viserys had taken it over years ago after he had passed away. When Viserys was still young and unmarried, he promised Daemon he would take over the company when Viserys grew tired of it. But that promise was never upheld. Because soon after, Viserys got married, and had a daughter. The company was no longer just his job, but his way of providing for his family, and making them proud.

Daemon never forgot about that promise, though. He famously feuded with his brother over it. Over his 'birthright'.

"Do Rhaena and I need to come to the reading?" Baela asks Helaena, a frown on her full lips.

"No. Immediate relatives only, Otto said." Helaena says with an apologetic tone.

"Oh, thank gods." Baela relaxes, rolling her shoulders, "As little time I have to spend around my father, the better."

"Word." Rhaena calls from beyond the wall, where she crouches as she texts someone. Cregan, most likely. Asking about Morning, most likelier.

Mila smiles down at her friend, before taking another drag of her cigarette as she looks back at Helaena. The blonde woman looks at her nervously, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"What's wrong, bug?" The Stark asks.

"Otto has asked you to join as well." Helaena murmurs, her already somber face dropping further.

Of course. Because I am apart of this sordid, godsdamned family.

Mila clenches her jaw, patting Baela's knee as she rises from the wall. Her friend gives her a worried look, opening her mouth to say something, before Mila shakes her head. Offering her the half-smoked cigarette, which Baela takes, Mila takes Helaena's hand and begins walking back to her doom.

Helaena leads her through the house, avoiding as many remaining mourners as she could. They ascend the stairs, walking further and further into the vast, castle-like home until they find a dark oak door.

Criston Cole stands outside of it, talking softly to Alicent. She stands still, picking at the skin around her nails as she stares off into the distance. The two of them jump when Mila and Helaena appear, standing taller and falling silent.

"Mum." Helaena says softly, nodding.

"Darling." Alicent clears her throat, sending a pained smile to her daughter before looking at Mila, "Mila."

"Is everything alright?" She asks her, rather absentmindedly, as her eyes move to the large doorway.

"Of course. We just have to get the legal stuff out of the way, and then we can all go home." Alicent states, wearing a smile that looks painted on. Helaena sighs, walking forwards towards the door, and Cole opens it for her. Inside, multiple voices could be heard arguing. Alicent grimaces, quickly following after her daughter with Mila in tow.

"Do you know why I've been asked to be here?" Mila asks Criston quietly as she passes him.

"Maybe he left you a paper weight." Cole shrugs, holding the door open for her.

Mila gives him a small smile, before crossing the threshold.

Inside, Daemon Targaryen lounges in a leather armchair behind an expensive desk, toying with the ring on his finger as he glares at his nephews. Aemond paces the room, his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. He argues in a low voice with his uncle, who seems greatly amused by the situation.

Rhaenyra sits on one of the chairs opposite the desk, staring at the night sky outside as Alicent takes the seat next to her. The two women share a look, their expressions softer as their eyes meet. Daeron, Jace, Halaena and Aegon sit dotted around the back, all silent and looking greatly uncomfortable. Luke appears around the corner as Mila walks in, and he visibly relaxes when he sees her.

"Mila." He smiles, walking over into her open arms. She hugs him close, ruffling his dark curls affectionately.

Other heads in the room turn to her, noting her attendance to this meeting. No-one looks shocked, though perhaps anxious due to her difficult recent history with Viserys' second son. Rhaenyra offers her a comforting smile, Daeron nods at her, Jace widens his eyes in a silent plea to jump out of the window with him.

Aemond stares at her, lone eye softening as he turns and begins approaching her. Luke leaves her side, avoiding Aemonds line of sight as he stands at his mother's shoulder.

The one-eyed Targaryen walks towards Mila slowly, not unlike a hunter approaching a startled animal. A weight settles on her chest as his hands each up to caress her elbows.

With the attention of the room on her, she allows him to pull her into an embrace. His arms feel familiar as they wrap around her, his hands finding purchase on her waist, his chin on her shoulder. Mila leans into him, her own instincts betraying her as she allows herself to find comfort in the hold of her ex-boyfriend.

Over Aemond's shoulder, she meets Aegon's eyes. He stares at her, face expressionless. But his eyes hold a thousand thoughts, ask a million questions, try to hide an immeasurable amount of feelings.

Mila can only hope that he find solace in her own eyes.

A short laugh zips through the air, making Aemond stiffen against her. Mila's eyes turn to the Targaryen in the room she is least acquainted with.

"The She Wolf," Daemon states dramatically, smirking. His eyes roam over her, an eyebrow raising in intrigue, "I get it now."

"Come on. She's young enough to be your daughter, uncle." Daeron rolls his eyes, visibly cringing.

Daemon's smile is predatory, and Mila fights a shudder as she extracts herself from Aemond, walking further into the room. She finds a spot away from everyone, leaning against a bookshelf as she crosses her arms over herself.

"We're just waiting on my father." Alicent tells the room, trying to ease the tension as she smoothes out her skirt, "He's taken care of Viserys' legal business for over thirty years."

"Was that before or after he sold you off as his child bride?" Daemon asks with feigned interest.

"That's enough."

Mila is shocked when Rhaenyra speaks up, sending a sharp look to her uncle. The Stark knew little of Rhaenyra and Alicent's strained relationship. All she knew was that they were friends when they were young girls, and that friendship ended when Alicent married Viserys at nineteen, a bump barely concealed by her dress. But as Alicent looks at Rhaenyra now, a grateful and soft expression, Mila understands that their friendship meant a lot to both of them.

And if Mila knows Otto Hightower, then she knows he was the reason it ended.

"So we're waiting on the old man, huh?" Daemon sighs, lifting his feet to loudly drop them on the mahogany desk, crossing his ankles, "Let's all catch up then, hm? As family."

Everyone glares at him.

Jace clears his throat, turning his head to smile at Daeron at his left, "You're playing footy at uni, right?"

"Yeah! It's great, I'm in goal at the moment but-"

"Boring." Daemon fake yawns, "Let's discuss what will change when I take over Dragonrider."

"That'll be the day, huh? Pigs will fly, the hells will freeze over..." Aegon sighs, playing wistful.

"No one finds you funny, nephew of mine." Says Daemon as he rolls his eyes.

Aegon puts a hand to his chest, gasping in outrage. As he grins slightly, his eyes flicker over to Mila, and she gives him a small smile, as if telling him 'I find you funny.'

Neither see Aemond watching the two with a narrowed eye.

"Surely the company will go over to mum. Right?" Luke chimes in, seemingly innocently confused by Daemon's comments, "That's what grandfather always said."

"Sure. Maybe that was what he intended when Nyra was young and single and careerless. Now she's got other priorities."

"Did you just call me old?" Rhaenyra asks with a raised eyebrow. Daemon scoffs, waving a hand dismissively.

"People love MILFs." Mila winks at her, and Rhaenyra tuts at her with a humoured smile she tries to hide.

"Down girl." Jace grimaces, "I'm right here."

"So am I." Aemond says, and if he had shown that kind of possessiveness a month ago, Mila would have adored it. But now, Mila feels herself shrink slightly.

Aegon stares at his brother, pressing his tongue to his cheek as he bounces his leg, agitated.

"Well, at the end of the day, it would be Viserys' decision who would take over his company." Alicent sighs, touching her seven pointed star necklace, "May the seven rest his soul."

"Now that doesn't sound like daddy's perfect little girl, does it?" Daemon taunts, making Alicent send a glare his way. Rhaenyra subtly rests a hand on Alicent's arm, offering a small comfort.

Mila focuses on her hand, on the affection of it. It looks so natural, and it makes . They were destroyed by circumstance, perhaps like her and Aemond, perhaps like her and Aegon...

Those around her continue arguing, mainly Daemon, with the others voicing their opinions or merely telling him to shut up. Mila tuned most of it out, biting at the nail on her thumb. But the jist of the argument was not lost on her.

Neither Rhaenyra nor Aegon want to inherit the company, but both Daemon and Aemond do. Oh the curse of being the second born.

"We're getting nowhere!" Daemon groans, sending a spiteful glare to Alicent, "How long will your idiot father take to slowly walk here?"

As if summoned, Otto Hightower finally turns up, his face unreadable as he slinks into the room. He sneers at Daemon, sat at the desk.

"That desk costs more than your house, Mr Targaryen. Kindly remove your cheap shoes from it."

"Ooh, someone's time of the month is here." Snickers Daemon as he stands, presenting the chair with a flourish.

Otto ignores him, placing the envelope containing the will on the desk.

"Viserys Targaryen's will clearly states how he wanted his assets divided between his family." Otto states, sitting on the newly empty desk chair, "He owned three properties, two domestic and one for business. This mansion will be left to his wife, Alicent Hightower. Dragonstone is now solely owned by Rhaenyra Targaryen. The 'Dragonpit', as he calls his place of business, will go to whoever inherits his company. His funds will be equally distributed between his five children, with seperate accounts held in place for his grandsons."

"Oh, result." Aegon snickers, crossing his arms, "Now I can get a pony."

"Shut the fuck up, Aegon." Daemon sneers.

"In regards to his company, Dragonrider Investments, he has stated that his first born son, Aegon Targaryen, will take over as CEO of the company, effective immediately."

The room is deathly silent as everyone digests this information.

And then, all hell breaks loose.

Daemon stands from his chair with enough force to send it tipping backwards, his eyes enraged as he sneers at Otto, "You lie."

"I do not lie, Mr Targaryen. It is written right here."

"My brother would never leave his company to this half-wit!" Daemon yells, pointing to Aegon. He slams his hand against the table, "You fucking snake, you changed it, didn't you?!"

"A vile accusation, Mr Targaryen. It would be wise to refrain from making baseless allegations against me." Otto sneers.

"There's no way Viserys would have chosen Aegon over Rhaenyra. He chose her years ago and would never, under any circumstances, change his decision to his second born, lowlife of a son. The company belongs to Rhaenyra." Daemon states.

"You just want Rhaenyra to have it so you could manipulate her into giving it to you in favour of keeping her own business." Aemond rolls his eyes at his uncle, leaning over one of the chairs to grab the back of it, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.

Aemond's voice is calm, but Mila can see the barely contained rage in his shoulders.

"If Dragonrider was left to me, I would not have chosen Daemon to take it over." Rhaenyra scoffs.

"Yeah, she has a whole son over here." Daeron nods to Jace

"Leave me out of this." Jace murmurs, holding up his hands defensively. He shares an exacerbated look with Mila, who shrugs at him as she gnaws on her thumb nail.

"I want to see the original will." Rhaenyra sighs, glaring at Otto.

"You didn't even want the company." Aemond bites, "You should be jumping for joy."

"All I want is for my father's last wishes to be respected. I do not believe he would have chosen Aegon."

"Because who would?" Daemon snickers, "Apart from the obvious."

The room goes quiet, and Mila looks up to find Daemon Targaryen's eyes on her. Aemond stiffens from beside her, rage radiating off of him, hotter than dragon fire. The others in the room look between the two Targaryen's, feeling the tension rise to a boiling point.

"What is it you are implying?" Mila finds herself asking, staring Daemon down.

"Oh, nothing." He smirks, "Just that you seem to have a type, She Wolf."

His tone catches Aegon's attention, who sits up in his chair. After looking bored throughout the hearing of his father's will, Daemon's sudden aggression towards Mila makes Aegon suddenly sober up. He looks ready to speak when Aemond beats him to the punch.

"How dare you?" Aemond growls, stepping forwards towards his uncle, "Say what you wish to the rest of us, but think twice about what you accuse my girlfriend of doing-"

"I'm not accusing her of anything. Just stating the obvious. We all saw those pictures from Old Town, anyone with two eyes could see what was going on..." Daemon makes an exaggerated face, holding his hand up to his mouth as he looks at his nephew, "Oh, wait!"

"Watch your tongue, uncle." Aemond warns, voice icey, "Or you may lose it."

"Oh, be quiet, Aemond. The grownups are talking." Daemon says dismissively, "it's not like you were even in the running to inherit Dragonrider, anyway."

The room soon dissolves into chaos, with Daemon and Aemond standing chest to chest as they bicker and hurl insults at one another. Rhaenyra stands at Daemon's side, trying to prevent the two from throwing punches, while Otto tries to shout louder than the other's to control the situation.

Helaena holds her hands to her ears, sitting beside her mother, who looks pale and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Jace and Daeron sit side by side by the desk, watching the growing chaos with bored expressions, and Aegon sits as still as a statue away in the shadowy corners.

Mila holds her head, standing to the side next to Criston Cole, who looks about ready to quit his job. His eyes keep flicking towards Alicent, a protectiveness on his face that makes Mila like the bodyguard even more.

"Maybe you should take her away. She doesn't need to see this." Mila murmurs softly to him, her own concern for the older woman's stress evident. He gives her a firm nod, disappearing across the room to come to Alicent's side. Alicent grabs Helaena's hand as they leave, and Mila thinks about following them out.

Across the room, Mila spots Aegon rising from his chair, heading over to another door leading out. Without another glance, he quietly slips out and away from the chaos.

"Aegon, wait!"

Outside the Targaryen estate, Aegon turns around at the sound of Mila's voice. She crosses the cobblestone of the drive, face twisted with sympathy and desperation.

"I can't do this, Em." Aegon sighs, shaking his head. He runs a shaky hand over his face, his breathing erratic, "I can't be what they want me to be. And... I can't be what they expect. I'm not that guy anymore. The delinquent freak who would roll over and do what Otto told me to. I know my grandfather had a say in this. He must have... manipulated my father into making me the heir, or something. Otto thinks he can control me, so he would control Dragonrider."

He paces as he rambles, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. Mila watches him with a pained expression, unable to help him and forced to stand aside and watch as he struggles.

Lifting his head, Aegon looks at her with glassy eyes, "I can't be apart of this."

Mila reaches out for him, and she can see his eyes moving frantically from her hand to her face. With two swift strides, he reaches her.

"I..." He starts, his voice trailing off. He clenches his jaw, looking down at her lips before back at her eyes. Mila nods almost imperceptibly, reaching a hand up to brush against his sleeve.

Aegon's hands cup her cheeks, pulling her in for a swift, loving kiss. Mila melts into him, holding his elbows as he kisses her languidly, enjoying the feel of her against him. Their lips move in a sensual dance, mapping the other out until the feel is carved into their memories.

But all too quickly, his lips disappear. With a final look into her eyes, Aegon turns and walks away, disappearing into the night.

When Mila finally returns to the mansion, Criston Cole stands waiting in the foyer, releasing an annoyed sigh when she is the only one who returns.

"Is he gone?" He asks simply. She nods, trying to blink away the tears that spilled outside.

Criston eyes her, pulling out a handkerchief and giving it to her wordlessly. She wipes her eyes silently

"Makeup smudged?" She asks, trying to sound casual.

"Just say you're really upset about Viserys' death."

Mila chuckles, giving Cole his handkerchief back with a thank you, and he nods.

Turning the corner on the way back to the office, she watches as Daemon storms out of the double doors, throwing them open hard enough so send the doors colliding with the walls, their loud thuds. The other's rush after him, in various states of distress.

"Daemon, stop being so childish! Stop this!" Rhaenyra yells after him.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I being too loud?" He screams back at her, long hair wild around his head.

"Loud enough to wake the dead." Jace murmurs around his drink with a raise of his eyebrows. Rhaenyra smacks his arm, causing the younger man to flinch and jump back.

"Good! Let's get Viserys up here, he can put an end to this shitshow!"

Alicent walks down the hallway, eyebrows raised eye as she eyes Daemon warily, "What-"

"I'm going to disembowel your father." The scorned Targaryen sneers at her, making her press her lips together with a huff.

With that, Daemon struts off, likely to throw a further hissy fit elsewhere. Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, murmuring 'pathetic' before wandering back off into the office with Alicent following. Jace downs his drink, winking at Mila before he disappears down the hallway with Luke and Daeron on his heels. The muffled voices of Rhaenyra and Alicent can be heard through the dark wood of the office door.

A small grimace appears on Mila's face when she realises she is left alone in the hallway with Aemond. Her ex watches her, his face twisted in a barely contained scowl at the actions of his family, his eye narrowed in anger.

Before Mila can utter out an excuse to leave his presence, Aemond sighs through his nose, "I need a drink."

He turns on his heel, walking away in a flurry of blonde hair and dark fabric. When he doesn't hear her following, he stops and turns his head.

"Are you coming?"

"...Apparently." Mila sighs as she crosses her arms and follows after him.

Mila watches Aemond pour himself a drink from the families lavish bar, the rest of the room dark and quiet apart from the clink of ice and Mila's heel tapping against the wooden floor.

Not a word has been spoken, neither of them being the first to speak for fear of how the other will respond. Rain distantly patters against the large windows across the parlor, and thunder occasionally rumbles ominously.

"It's late." Aemond finally comments around the rim of his glass, "It would be best if you stay here tonight."

Mila raises an eyebrow, "Oh would it?"

"You can sleep in one of the spare rooms." He sighs, "If you wish."

"But you would prefer it if I slept in your bed? If I forgave everything you have done and move forward as if nothing happened?"

"Yes." Aemond says simply, putting down his glass, "All of that. That's exactly what I want. What I need, Mila. I need you."

"Aemond I don't want to talk about this." Mila shakes her head, trying to push his words out of her head.

"But we must." Aemond says, his voice pleading. His hand leaves his side and attempts to take hers, but Mila wraps her arms around herself and turns her back on him, tucking her chin as if she were protecting herself. Aemond sighs, walking around her to the glass doors. He opens them, ignoring the rain crashing down around him as he pulls out his pack of Marlboro reds and his lighter.

Mila joins his side, watching his strong profile as he puts a cigarette between his lips and lights it. Aemond offers her his pack wordlessly, and she takes one, letting him light it for her.

They stood in silence in the shelter of the doorway, the world outside stormy, the house behind them silent and dark. Their solemn faces are illuminated by the cherries of their cigarettes, smoke escaping their lips and floating up to join the dark clouds, ripped apart in the sky by the harsh winds. Mila watches the sky, feeling a few stray drops of rain caress her cheeks.

"Did you love me?" Aemond asks suddenly, looking down at the lighter between his fingers.

"What?" Mila asks, turning to look at him.

Aemond's head lifts, staring right into her eyes. His one eye is stormier than the heavens above them, his eyepatch a black hole on the left side of his face.

"Did you love me?" He repeats, his voice softer.

Looking into his eyes, she's reminded of the first time she realized she was in love with him. Three months after their first meeting, Otto had dragged their sorry asses to Tyland Lannister's birthday bash, and the Targaryen clan spent an evening in the lions den of Casterly Rock. After a surpise appearence by Jason, Mila had instinctively grabbed Aemond's hand and fled away from the celebrations. Out of breath and finding herself in the gardens with Aemond chuckling down a her antics, Mila looked up at the Targaryen man and came to a startling realisation.

She was in love with Aemond Targaryen.

In the present, Mila stares up at him, feeling Deja Vu as the gardens surround them and his eye watches her carefully. Words escape her, a shakyh breath released from her smoky lungs.

Aemond's hand cups her cheek, pulling her closer as he finally breathes out what she always wanted to hear.

"I love you." Aemond says.

She took a sharp breath, face scrunching as her heart lurches.

For months she waited to hear those words. She craved it. Finally, a traitorous voice says inside her head, as Aemond's lips press to hers.

Mila has no idea how she ended up here.

One minute, she kissed Aemond in the door leading out to the gardens of the Targaryen manor, in the early morning after his father's funeral, after he finally told her he loved her.

Now, an hour later, he had her naked laid out on his head, his head between her legs.

Fisting the sheets at the side of her head, Mila's back arched off the sheets, a sheen of sweat across her skin. Aemond prodded her with his tongue, delving it deep within her to drink her up. His large hands spread out over her hips and stomach, holding her down as she shuddered and shook, pleasure coursing through her.

"Fuck..." Mila moaned, dropping her head down as his lips surrounded her clit, sucking harshly to bring her closer and closer and closer to her impending orgasm.

Having discarded his eye patch, Aemond looks up at her with one pale blue eye and one glistening sapphire, the contrast harsh but eerily beautiful. Mila finds herself avoiding meeting his gaze, her eyes scrunching shut

"He can't have you." Aemond growls between her legs, "He won't have you. Not after everything."

His teeth grind down on her clit, and with a silent scream, Mila's legs shake around his head, falling over the edge.

Euphoria clouds her mind as she watches Aemond crawl over her, kissing along her neck up to her jaw, where he mumbles unintelligible words against her sweaty skin.

The head of his cock brushes against her, and she whines against his face, pleading. For him to stop? For him to keep going? She didn't know.

"My love." Aemond groans, sinking into her to the halt, "Mine."

A protest sits on Mila's tongue, but it disintegrates as Aemond begins fucking her quick and hard, slamming his hips forwards and backwards like a madman. He sets a punishing pace, forcing her to feel every beautiful inch of him.

Her hands desperately grip onto him, his shoulder and his forearm. His one eye watches her, a fierce passion within its depths, the sapphire almost shining within his barren socket.

Her body sings for him, moans escaping her lips as she begs him not to stop. For a moment, Mila can almost forget everything that's happened.

A headlight outside passes over Aemond's face, casting shadows that morph his face into that of his brothers.

Aegon's name sits on her tongue, almost escaping her as the vision of her ex-boyfriend's older brother brings her closer to her rapidly approaching peak.

Something crosses over Aemond's face as he watches Mila's eyes glaze over, almost as if he could read her mind.

Her flips her over, sharply re-entering her from behind. Mila gasps, bracing herself on her forearms, her body surging forward with every harsh pound of Aemond's hips.

He threads his fingers into her hair, tugging on her scalp whilst his other hand smooths down her back.

"Tell me how good it feels." He commands, delivering a sharp smack to her ass. Mila whines, pushing back into him, "Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it? Fucking cockslut."

Mila babbles out, collapsing from her elbows onto her face, biting down onto the pillow as Aemond's thrusts increase in speed, fucking into her hard enough to make her back arch impossibly low.

"Oh gods... Aemond, I'm-" Mila sobs, feeling her orgasm quickly approaching.

"Fucking do it. cum all over my cock, that’s my good girl. My beautiful girl."

With a muffled scream, Mila arches her back, her cunt fluttering as Aemond's brutal fucking sends her into oblivion.

"That's it, there you go." Aemond grits out, panting as he fucks her through her orgasm, his cock throbbing with his impending high. With a low groan, he pulls her ass flush to his hips, emptying himself deep inside her until his cum runs down from where they meet, staining the sheets below them.

Aemond pulls out, causing Mila to groan at the sudden emptiness. The Targaryen collapses beside her, taking shuddering breaths. Mila remains as she was, her hair in her face as she stays fucked out. His fingers move the hair from out of her face, leaning forward to kiss her lips gently.

The moonlight shone through the sheer curtains of Aemond's old room, casting the Targaryen and the Stark in a sheen of white light. Aemond's breath has evened out, his one eye fluttering in his sleep, the other open. The sapphire sparkles, taunting Mila as she watched his face.

It feels like her stomach is alive with confusion and dread.

Aemond told her he loves her. He finally said it.

Isn't this what she wanted? All those months at his side, hoping that what they had was real. Hoping Aemond cared about her as deeply as she did him. For months all Mila wanted was to hear him tell her he loved her. Shouldn't that be anough now?

No. It isn't.

Because he's not the man she loves. Not anymore. Mila knows who she loves now, and it is not the man lying next to her.

Looking over at Aemond as he slept, Mila felt her stomach twist.

She shouldn't be here.

After throwing on her clothes hastily, she found herself speed-walking through the darkened mansion as her mind ran wild with thoughts of varying degrees of panic.

I fucked Aemond. I fucked my ex.

I love Aegon Targaryen.

"Miss Stark."

Mila bristles as she recognises the voice, turning around to see Otto Hightower standing in the doorway. He looks her over, an eyebrow raising in interest at her disheveled appearance.

"Hm." He hums, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Save it." Mila rolls her eyes, turning on her heel as she heads towards the foyer.

"Going to see Aegon?" His question stops her in her tracks, an icy chill sliding down her spine. Looking over her shoulder, she meets Otto's snake like gaze, a self satisfied smirk on his lips, "Tell him we'll see him soon."

"Leave him alone." Mila snaps, storming over to the man who, for a second, looks afraid, "Don't you ever try to force him into this role you made for him. We both know Viserys did not want Aegon to take over the company. You did. Because you think you can control him."

"Please-"

"It was Aemond at first." Mila interrupts him, "But now you know you can't control Aemond. That was made clear by him fucking Alys Rivers and fucking my relationship with him very publically."

Now Otto looks taken back, his usual smirk dropping slightly.

Mila smirks, "What? You think I didn't know? That you orchestrated our whole relationship to make us both look good? That went well, didn't it?"

"Whatever Aemond told you-"

"Aemond didn't tell me shit." Mila laughs, "I knew from the fucking start. Inviting my brother and I to that gala, sending Aemond off to flirt with me via cigarettes, him asking me out not two days later. You had this all planned out. But Alys wasn't in the cards, was she?"

"...No. She was not."

Mila smiles, with no joy to be found in it, "Yeah. She really fucked things up for all of us, huh? Well, her and Aemond."

Otto sits down, watching her as she crosses her arms.

"If Aemond had sticked by your rules, would you have wanted him to take over?"

"Doesn't matter what I want, Viserys was the head of the company."

"And who made the decisions for him when he became paralyzed from the waist down due to his medication?"

Otto smirks, nodding, "Alright. I yield. Yes, Aemond would have taken it over."

"And now, it's Aegons turn to play grandson of the year."

"He will ." He nods, "Larys has said he is driving down to the Beachouse. Took one of Viserys' cars, no less. By the end of this week, he will be getting dragged by his shirt collar back here, to take over the company."

"To play figure head while you take over the company."

The Hightower just smirks at her, humor evident in his eyes as he regards her. "You know a lot more than I realized." Otto says softly, quirking his head, "How?"

"Because I sit down and I listen." Mila rolls her eyes, "Figured that shit out when I was sixteen. People talk when they're drunk, when they're high, and when they think that the person listening to them is of no importance. Makes us people of no importance very powerful when they're around the right people yapping."

Otto watches her for a moment, the smallest of smiles on his lips. Taking this as her sign to leave, Mila rolls her eyes and turns on her heel, her head held high.

"I underestimated you." Otto calls after her, making her stop in her tracks, "She Wolf."

With a huff, Mila keeps walking.

Laena Targaryen was having a quiet night in, glass of wine in hand as she sat on her balcony on Driftmark.

Her daughters are on the mainland, and also both women in their early twenties, giving her nothing to worry about for the evening. Since she retired from modelling last year, she found many of her evenings were spent like this. Sitting in the sun,

Rhaenys walks out onto the patio, handing her the landline phone with an amused smirk. With a raised eyebrow, Laena takes it, blowing a kiss to her mother before she talks to whoever is on the phone.

"Hello?" Laena greets, taking a sip from her glass

"Can I borrow your car?" Mila stark asks.

AN// BEACH HOUSE, BEACH HOUSE, BEACH HOUSE.

I am my own worst enemy. My fingers had a mind of their own when they started writing that Aemond smut smh. I needed to give more to the Aemond girlies (me included), but don't worry there is still plenty more coming with bbg Aegon <3

Lula x

[sapphire-writes]

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: The night of the hockey formal. Chaos ensures of course, because nothing's that easy with this group!

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ series general language & mature themes (p in v, fingering, kissing, praise, unprotected, slight hair pulling).

note: hope you enjoy my loves 😘

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 5: Formal ~ next chapter

“How’s the studying going?” Helaena asks, looking up from her book.

You’ve been sitting with her in the student lounge for about an hour now, staring at your phone. Aegon’s text messages have been on your mind for a while now. Not that he’s been responding. He’s been MIA since the neon party.

“Y/N,” Helaena says as you continue to stare, brows furrowed together. 

Helaena closes her book loudly, but still, you fail to look up. Where is he?

“Y/N!” Helaena says, louder this time. 

You blink rapidly, locking your phone and smiling apologetically. 

“Sorry, what Hel?” you ask.

“How’s studying? With Egg?” Helaena asks. 

The feeling of his lips on your returns, the feeling of his tongue slipping into your mouth. The cool metal of his tongue ring. His lips. Fuck, his lips. An ache grows between your legs, and your mind flashes to the memory of riding his thigh. 

“Studying’s going great,” you manage to say, forcing a smile on your face.

You send Aegon another text. 

“Are you excited for formal?” Helaena asks, eyes flickering from your face to your phone, “Who’s got you so grumpy?” 

“What?” you say looking up, “No one, shit, just Sara. Um-” you rub a hand over your face, “Yeah, yeah formal should be fun!”

“Egg looks forward to it every year,” Helaena muses, “I hear he’s taking Lydia Tyrell.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you try to ignore the hot flash of jealousy that rolls through you. Helaena’s brother. Off-limits. 

“That’s nice,” you tell her, “They make a cute pair.”

“Yeah,” Helaena says snorting, “For however long Egg holds onto her.”

You frown.

“What do you mean?”

Helaena closes her book, folding her hands on top of one another.

“Aegon is a manwhore,” she tells you, “He chooses a pretty, desperate girl, lavishes her with attention, and then throws her to the curb when he’s done.”

Your throat tightens at her words. 

“He chews them up and spits them out,” Helaena continues, “My brother’s not the nicest guy to fool around with. Not that any of my friends have to worry about that. I’d kill him.”

Shit. 

You force a smile.

“You would?” you ask nervously, and Helaena nods.

“Did I ever tell you about Cassandra? My best friend in high school?”

You shake your head and Helaena sighs.

“Aegon broke her heart. Shattered it into a million tiny pieces. She never spoke to me again,” Helaena tells you. 

Your heart nearly stops beating at her words. 

“My best friend,” Helaena says, enunciating the words, “Aegon doesn’t think about anyone but himself. Love him, but he’s got issues.”

Nervousness swirls in your stomach. Helaena tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, sighing and shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry that happened, Hel,” you tell her. 

“Me too,” Helaena says, placing her cheek in her hand and reading her textbook.

It’s settled. You need to pursue this thing with Cregan. Aegon is off-limits. 

Later in the day, you and Sara get ready together doing your makeup in front of your floor-length mirror. Sara chose a skin-tight red dress that looks amazing on her. 

Your dress is in deep forest green, hugging your curves perfectly. Sara’s eyes bug out of her head when you exit your room.

“Cregan’s going to cream his pants,” she says, wolf-whistling at you.

“I sure hope so,” you say, snickering slightly. 

You look your arm through hers, grab your purse, and exit the apartment. You’re supposed to meet at the hockey house, Sara offers to drive blasting your favorite songs all the while. When you park, you feel your skin prickle with nervousness, all the hairs on your arms standing at attention. 

Some guys stand outside, dressed in suits, sharing drinks. You spot Jace and Cregan standing on the front steps as you exit Sara’s car. She calls out to Jace, waving at the pair. You notice Aegon talking with some teammates, not acknowledging your arrival. 

“We got a limo together, to take us all,” Jace tells you, kissing Sara’s cheek. 

Cregan eyes light up as you appear, scanning you up and down. A wolfish grin appears on his face and he wets his lips. 

“You look great,” he tells you.

“So do you,” you say smiling. 

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Aegon says, arm slung over Lydia’s delicate shoulders.

He’s wearing an all-black suit, his silver hair slicked back. He gives you a sideways grin before looking away quickly. 

You all pile into the limo together, knees bumping against each other in the crowded space as music blasts from the speakers. Neon lights flash and a disco ball reflect the light in all directions.

Though Cregan and you make conversation you can’t help but watch Aegon and Lydia, who sits perched on his lap, with a ring-clad hand tightly gripping her upper thigh. His fingers play with the edge of her dress, slightly disappearing underneath it. 

Your eyes flicker to his face and you meet his violet eyes. He’s looking back at you. Flustered at being caught staring, you quickly lower your gaze, cheeks burning. 

The ride is pretty quick, and you don’t look at Aegon again. 

You all start to exit the limo, walking in pairs into the hotel. It’s fancy as hell, with a huge spiral staircase and grand chandelier sparkling in the foyer. Aegon has already disappeared inside, you catch a glimpse of Lydia’s auburn hair, Aegon’s hand pressed against her lower back. 

Cregan takes your arm, beginning to lead you up the stairs when your stomach drops.

“Shit,” you mumble, slapping your side.

“What’s up?” Sara says stopping, arm linked through Jace’s.

“I left my purse in the limo,” you tell them, smiling at Cregan apologetically.

“I can get it for you,” he says smiling.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “I’ll be just a second, you guys head upstairs without me.”

“You’re sure?” he asks, squeezing your hand.

You nod, and they continue up the stairs without you.  

You walk back down the steps, goosebumps appearing the longer you’re in the cold air. You find the limo pretty quickly in the parking lot, the driver standing across the lot smoking a cigarette.

“Excuse me,” you tell her, “I left my purse inside.”

“No problem,” she says clicking the unlock, “go right ahead sweetheart.”

You give her a kind smile and continue walking to the limo. The door opens are you poke your head inside. The lights are still going, but no music plays now. It’s sort of spooky just multicolored lights flashing over the leather seats. 

You duck, but it's still incredibly spacious as you slide down the seat to where you had been seated with Cregan in the back. With no one else in the limo, it’s very roomy. Your purse lays squished between the cushions and you sling it on your arm when the door shuts behind you. 

Your head whips around, panic slicing through you until you see who it is. Aegon slouches against the seat, manspreading his legs as he leans his head back on the headrest of the seat. He watches you as he taps his fingers on the door. 

He’s wearing rings again.

Stop that. Bad girl. Go back to Cregan.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, not moving.

“What are you doing?” he playfully mimics, raising a brow and smiling widely.

You hold up your purse.

“Sure you’re not avoiding Stark?” he asks, wetting his lips.

You let out a sharp breath, laughing slightly.

“And why would I be doing that?”

“You tell me.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t have time for this Aegon, Cregan’s waiting for me.”

You start to scoot down the seat toward him. There’s no way out without passing over him. 

“Mhmm,” he answers, rubbing his eyes. He leaves his palm on top of his eyes. 

You stop scooting as you reach the corner next to him. 

“Are you avoiding someone?” you ask referring to his date. 

Aegon splays his fingers on his face, peering at you between the cracks of his fingers. 

“Maybe,” he says, lower lip jutting out into a pout.

You chuckle.

“Lydia Tyrell not doing it for you?” you ask, hoping the bitterness you feel isn’t evident in your tone.

“She’s nice enough,” he murmurs.

A moment of silence happens between you, the tension is palpable in the small space.

“She’s probably missing you about now,” you tell him.

“Told her I needed a smoke.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.”

You laugh despite feeling bad for the abandoned Lydia. Aegon watches you laugh, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“You could have come alone,” you tell him, but he snorts.

Silence again. You feel the need to keep talking.

“How’s your studying?”

“You’re seriously asking me about studying right now?” he asks, hand falling from his face to his thigh.

“Should I be asking about something else?”

“You tell me, bunny.”

You stare him down for a moment, those violet eyes looking into your soul. Don’t be a pussy, you hear Sara’s voice in your head.

“Why did you kiss me?”

He smirks then, as though he was hoping you’d be brave enough to ask.

“To help you with Stark.”

“No,” you clarify, “At the neon party. You didn’t need to, but you did it anyway.”

Aegon continues to stare. 

“Maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”

Your face flushes. He’s wearing that damn earring again. Two of them. Both hoops, the one lower on his lobe holding some animal’s tooth. The multicolored lights dance across his features and it suddenly feels warm, too warm, like you’ll suffocate.

“Cregan is waiting for me,” you tell him, moving to leave.

Aegon takes this as defeat, nodding as you begin your exit. There’s no way to get past him, not without going over him. He leans up as you move one leg over him, basically straddling him. His hand glides over your leg and you freeze, hand gripping the headrest to help your balance. Your hair is brushing against his face, and you meet his eyes. He’s right in front of you, close enough to kiss. 

Your other hand is on the handle of the door.

His eyes flicker to your lips, just once, and your thighs give, crashing you into his lap. You gasp, feeling the hardness present between his legs, before he swallows the sound with his lips against yours. 

Your hand drops from the door tangling in hair as his hands slide under your ass. One hand snakes up your back, gripping the back of your neck keeping your mouth securely against his.

He tastes the same way he did the other night, he feels like he did that night. His lips are forbidden fruit, and you’re starving. Aegon’s hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, squeezing at your breasts, your ass, your thighs, just constant pressure. His teeth sink into your lower lip and you moan into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing you closer to him. 

His hands drop only so he can reach for his belt. You watch him unbuckle it. 

“We don’t have time,” you tell him, as he recaptures your lips.

“Sure we do,” he insists.

You whimper against him, dropping your hands to assist his efforts. Once his cock is freed, you wrap your hand around him and pump his length. Aegon groans as you do so before pushing your dress up around your waist. You’re all uncoordinated, limbs flailing all over the place, and you’re not sure how but Aegon manages to wrestle you out of your panties while you’re still on his lap. 

He swipes a finger through your slick folds, grinning as you spasm against him.

“Just fuck me,” you tell him, desperate to be quick.

Aegon playfully frowns.

“We’re not being that quick,” he says, sinking two fingers into your tight heat, “what, do you think I’m not a gentleman? Huh?”

The strangled noise that leaves you only fuels the fire of Aegon’s pride. You can feel the metal of his rings pressing into you, eliciting more erotic noises as he crooks his fingers in you just right. 

“You think after all this, I’m not gonna make you come?” Aegon teases.

“Fuuck,” you whine, grinding your hips against his fingers.

“Yeah, fuuck,” Aegon agrees, mimicking you; biting his lip, and nodding his head. 

He’s such an arrogant asshole. 

Your palm slams against the window as his thumb presses against your clit rubbing even little circles around the slick bundle of nerves. Thank the fucking gods the windows are tinted. Aegon chuckles at the state of you as he works his fingers in your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, this pussy is gonna feel so good on my cock,” he murmurs.

“Aegon, oh fuck,” you squeak, walls clenching around his fingers.

“Soak my fingers, that’s it,” he encourages, unrelenting with his movements, “keep saying my name baby.” 

Your orgasm washes over you, sending you slumping against him as he moves to replace his fingers with his cock. 

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him, feeling the fat head of his cock spreading your lips.

He kisses your neck, nipping lightly.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“All yours,” he tells you, and you lift your lips before sinking onto him. 

It takes no time at all to figure out Aegon likes to be vocal, not that you expected anything else. It’s all dirty praises wrapped between grunting, gasps, and moans as you ride him. The sounds of wet slapping echo throughout the limo, the smell of sex evident in the confined space. 

“Perfect fucking pussy,” Aegon murmurs, hands resting on your ass. 

Your dress is scrunched at your middle, tits out. His head is buried between them, voice muffled as he worships them with his mouth. He alternates licking the full mounds before taking your nipple in his mouth grazing it with his teeth and sucking, sending sparks of pleasure tricking down towards your navel. His mouth never leaves you, not even to come up for air, he simply traces his lips over your tits, through the valley between them to make sure he’s giving equal attention to each one.

The sensations are almost too much for you to handle, your thighs tremble, and sharp whimpers and whines leave your bruised lips. Your pussy clenches around him, feeling every vein, every curve of his thick length.

All you can do is moan, head thrown back as you bounce on his fat cock. He fills you so fucking perfectly, better than Jason, better than anyone. 

“Oh gods,” you moan, “Oh fuck.”

The tip of his cock is curved so perfectly, nudging against that sweet spongy spot that makes your breath leave you with each roll of your hips. 

“That’s it, come all over my cock,” Aegon says, “That’s my girl.”

You’re sent over the edge once more and feel his warm release soon after, as he spills inside of you with a breathy, whimpered, moan. Aegon captures your lips once more in a searing kiss, hands tangling in your hair. 

You breathe into each other for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. 

Oh fuck.

Aegon blinks rapidly and you shy away from his gaze. 

You reach for your panties but he stops your hand.

“I think I’ll keep those,” he says smiling, stuffing the lace into his pockets.

Your eyes are wide as he kisses you once more. When he pulls away he keeps his hands tightly on your jaw, just enough so you can’t look away from him.

“Now you go in there, dance with Cregan, and have a fucking ball with my cum dripping down your legs,” he purrs. 

Your lips are parted in shock, eyes wide and dumb.

“You hear me?”  

“Uh huh,” you answer. 

Aegon drags his thumb over the shape of your lips. 

“We got to go,” he tells you, as you rise from his softening cock.

You fix the straps of your dress and pull it down to cover your ass as he opens the door. Aegon exits first and holds a hand out to help you out. You take it, rising on shaky legs. 

“Let’s go,” he says grinning. 

He holds your hand until you enter the hotel, following him up the stairs and into the ballroom. He turns, winking at you, before strutting across the room to Lydia. 

Sara comes barreling over to you.

“Got your purse?” she says, her smile faltering as she sees your expression. 

“Bathroom, NOW,” you tell her, grabbing her hand. 

She follows your lead and you hurry to the restroom. 

“What is it?” Sara asks.

You can feel him running down your thighs. Sara raises an eyebrow.

“Sara,” you tell her, “Don’t freak out.”

She freaks out.

“You fucked him? Just now?” she hisses, eyes falling to your chest, “Oh shit, Y/N your chest-”

You rush to the mirror. Dark red blotches are forming from Aegon’s attention. You pull the collar of your dress up.

“Here,” Sara says, digging into your purse, “I put our concealers in here.”

“What the fuck do I do?” you ask as she uses her fingers to apply the makeup, “Shit, Helaena’s going to kill me, Cregan is going to kill me.”

“Do you like him?” Sara asks, “Aegon?”

“Um,” your head is spinning, “I mean. Yeah. But it's Aegon! Helaena literally was just telling me how horrible he is to girls.”

“Girl yikes,” Sara says shaking her head, “I mean, you’ve seen his track record.”

“Fuck,” you tell her, “So I should just forget this right? I mean it's probably a one-time thing, he probably doesn’t even like me-”

“You cannot tutor him anymore, he’s just going to keep fucking you,” Sara tells you, “Tell him to find someone else.”

Doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal, if you’re being honest. 

“But-”

“No,” she tells you firmly, “We are not having another Jason Lannister moment. Date Cregan. Fuck Cregan. A nice guy.”

You look at her wide-eyed. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she tells you.

“It was really good.”

“Did you come?”

“Yeah,” you tell her nodding and biting your lip. 

“Fucking Aegon Targaryen,” she says shaking her head, “Okay, you’re good, let's get back out there.”

You go to the bathroom, wiping the remnants of Aegon’s release from your thighs with shaking hands. Sara’s right. 

You make your way to Cregan, he takes your hand spinning you around. You smile. He’s so nice, such a good guy. Jace and Sara dance next to you as a slow song begins to play. You loop your hands around Cregan’s neck, glancing behind him. 

Aegon’s leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets. He removes his left hand, slightly revealing the dark green lace of your panties before shoving them back in. Your eyes widen and he winks.

You have a feeling Aegon Targaryen is nowhere near done with you.

note: I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!! 😘

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[farieofshampoo]

THE WOLF & THE DRAGON (2/?)

warnings: violence, angst

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC

word count: 4.1k

tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage

rating: 18+, !MDNI!

A Lady Knight

Alarra was always fascinated with fireflies. She remembers leaving her room, late at night, when the air was cold, just to hold the fireflies in the courtyard. To watch them glow in the grass, and trapping them within her fingers. Cregan caught her one day, out at night not a guard in sight. He had yelled at her telling her it was not safe. She was only six, and did not know any better for she only wanted to see the glowing bugs. She cried as Cregan scolded her and after that night, he had made a secret promise to never make her cry again. But now, Cregan had feared he had hurt his sister in the worst way possible.

“You are to wed Joffrey Velaryon when he is of age and that is final!” Cregan shouted, slamming his hands upon the table, standing abruptly. “I am your Lord, and you will do as I say.”

“A hypocrite! You are a hypocrite! You say you want my safety- you prioritize me but now you're sending me away?”

“You will be safe with them. Daemon Targaryen is the most skilled knight-”

“I am to be locked in a castle for the rest of my life now? Waiting for the day, a child is of age to marry me?” Alarra paced the hall, her hand running through her hair.

“Alarra-”

“Am I just a hand to you? Something to give away? An export? A breeding-hole?”

“Alarra!” Alarra flinched at the tone her brother was using. He never yelled at her, never raised his voice. She must have struck a nerve. “Why would I ever send you somewhere that is not within your best interest?” He said, softening his voice, his eyes pleading with her.

“Because I am a woman.”

“No, because you will be a true princess. Not a princess of the North, but a princess of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“‘And I will tie our two houses together’- yes dear brother I get the picture.” Alarra tilted her head to the side, condescendingly, eyes shaped into crescent moons.

“Alarra you're not listening,” Cregan, still standing, walked around the table to stand next to her. Alarra knew that the responsibility of being the Lord of Winterfell from the ripe age of one and six was weighing on his shoulders. Their uncle had reigned as the Lord of Winterfell until Cregan was of age and Alarra didn’t have much memory of him besides the disdain he had for her brother. Alarra didn’t understand why because their uncle took the responsibility as if he had always been the King of the North. He was a Stark after all. And Cregan was strong; stronger than any boy she ever knew. “This is about our duty; our house; our legacy to lead.”

“And what of my legacy? What life do I want to lead? Don't I get a choice-?”

“You have every choice, Alarra. But this one is not yours to make.”

“This is my life, Cregan!” Alarra screamed, her lip quivering lightly as she pointed at his chest. “And you- you can’t just take my freedom away from me. If father were still here-” Cregan sucked in a breath, stepping towards her.

“If father were still here you wouldn't even be having this conversation with him.”

It was deathly silent before Cregan looked away from Alarra, gnawing on his mouth. There was so much Cregan wanted to say to her. But, what he chose to say remained with his duty as the Lord of Winterfell and not Alarra’s brother. His honor remained with his house, not his blood.

“My decision remains. You will wed Joffrey Velaryon. You will do as I say.” Alarra stepped backwards, in shock of her brother. She shook her head letting out a sarcastic snicker as she stomped out of the hall, the door slamming loudly on her way out.

Alarra was furious. She knew she'd end up in an arranged marriage with someone- someone kind and her age. Someone she knew and someone Cregan knew. She would be married when she was older, when she had seen all of Westeros. When she had fulfilled her wishes. She would have a say in who she married, who she grew to love. And Alarra accepted that; she was okay with it. But, a betrothal to a child? Alarra was certain she'd marry some Cerwyn boy, someone that her family trusted. A house that they knew would secure their allyship. She’d be close to her family, remaining in the North. But, a Targaryen? To be eventually sent with them, at the Red Keep. A rumored bastard of princess Rhaenyra. An unknown son of Harwin Strong.

When Alarra had first bled, she feared that she'd be sent away. She feared Cregan would abandon her, giving her away to the first man to want her. But, that day never came. And Alarra knew how much Cregan wanted her with him; wanted her around forever and to be by his side. Now he was giving her away. And she had no choice. She had no say.

And that was the worst betrayal.

During the day, Alarra refused to see her brother. He had requested that she train with him, like any day before, but she never showed and Cregan was left standing alone in the training hall staring at his shadow. After so many years of training with his sister, Cregan didn’t know how to train without her. They were never separated when it came down to a sword.

Alarra was brushing her hair, sitting at her mirror. The length was now at her stomach. Alarra loved her hair, it was one of her favorite things about herself. After the incident and scarring left on her face, Alarra took great care of her hair. She always styled it away from her face, always in the way of her duties but when she was not training with her brother or Ser Wildrow: she was a dainty flower for people to pick. She loved to be a woman. To brush her hair, wear dresses and bathe in lavender.

The moon was full that night, and it shone through her open window. Candles were scattered around her room, dimly lit.

Even in the moon's rise, Alarra was still thinking of her brother. After locking herself in her room all day, she had become more furious. Alarra the Fierce? That name now felt like nothing to her. Like words instead of encouragement. Her strokes on her hair slowly became more violent the more she let her thoughts race.

“My lady, I believe you've brushed enough.” Eyla proposed from behind Alarra, who was sitting upright in a chair. Alarra blinked, letting out a breath before dropping the brush on the table. Eyla ran her hair through Alarra’s hair, petting it lightly. Her hands were always delicate and soft, soothing the girl's sorrows away.

“Your hair has grown so much, my lady.” Eyla stopped, turning back to the girls closet, and grabbing a night gown, setting it on her bed. A knock on her door sounded and Alarra stiffened.

“Do not allow Cregan to enter.” Eyla nodded before walking towards the door, beginning to open it.

“You cannot ignore your brother forever.” Eyla stated, before she fully opened the door.

A male figure was standing at the door and Alarra refused to look. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ser Wildrow approach her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Alarra stood quickly, curtseying.

“My lady.” He bowed his head, walking towards her.

“Oh- I- Ser Wildrow.” Alarra rose from her curtsey, meeting his line of sight. “What brings you here at this hour?” Alarra smiled, her face glowing in the candlelight.

“Your brother has sent me,” Alarra’s inviting smile fell, and her arms stiffened like sticks.

“He wants to take you to Castle Black.” Alarra let out a laugh, quick and sharp, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That's a days trip!”

“Yes, my lady but your brother…insists.” There was a glimmer in Ser Wildrows eyes, and Alarra noticed it. “We've sent a raven for the Lord Commander to await our arrival.”

“I haven't even accepted.” Ser Wildrow smiled, a sly smirk. He knew she'd accept. He knew she couldn't refuse. “Besides, I have already gone to the wall and one visit will suffice.” Alarra was lying through her teeth.

“Cregan doesn't know that.”

When Ser Wildrow had taken Alarra to the wall it was a quiet affair, only the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch had known and he swore to secrecy. Thankfully, Cregan was good allies with the Night’s Watch, and easily traveled there with her companion. Ser Wildrow knew how much Alarra wanted to leave and explore so he gave that to her. Alarra had a suspicion that is why he took her in the first place. He knew she'd be trapped away in a castle for the rest of her days, producing heirs for a stranger when all she really wanted was to be close to her brother. She wasn't ready to leave just yet. But, Cregan had pulled her from the flock and now she was ready to fly. But wolves don't fly, they heard.

“Tell him I am feeling unwell-”

“My lady…” Ser Wildrow gave her a sad look, his hands at his side now. Alarra hugged herself with her arms looking at the ground. She nodded to herself before she looked back up at Ser Wildrow.

“Tell my brother I'll go,” Ser Wildrow let out a sigh of relief.

“Of course, my lady-”

“Tell my brother I will go to Castle Black with him. But tell him I wish to never speak to him after that.”

Ser Wildrow was silent.

“He said I have choices? Well I am making my choice. With what freedom I have left.”

Ser Wildrow bowed his head, a sorrowful look on his face.

“I am feeling quite tiresome.” Alarra declared and Ser Wildrow took that as his sign to leave, before he bowed and announced his farewell for the night.

The carriage ride to Castle Black was not joyous in the slightest. Alarra and Cregan had made small talk, but Alarra still refused to speak at him fully, speaking towards Ser Wildrow instead.

“Aren't you overjoyed, Alarra?” Cregan asked, his hands folded neatly, resting on his lap. It was sarcastic, meant to be a jab but Alarra didn't feel like arguing.

“Ser Wildrow, please tell Cregan that I am pissing myself at the thought of seeing unbathed criminals.” Alarra announced, looking solely at the knight across from her. Cregan grumbled, a warning.

“The lady is… um,” Ser Wildrow started but looked at Cregan unsure.

“Please, mind your manners-” Cregan spoke slowly, rolling his eyes.

“Manners? Ser Wildrow please tell-”

“Enough!” Cregan yelled, putting his hand up. “You are a child! One and six and acting like a babe begging for her mother’s tit.”

“Yes, I am one and six. I am merely one and six. I am a child.” Cregan always seemed to forget that Alarra was still technically a child.

“You said you wanted to leave Winterfell. I am giving you what you wanted, what you asked for-”

“I didn't ask to be sent off to a stranger though, did I?”

“Either way you would end up marrying a stranger at some point, Alarra.”

“This is different.” It was different. At least to Alarra it was. She didn’t think Cregan would spring upon her betrothal. She thought she’d have a little opinion on the matter. She thought her brother was different but Cregan was like every other man.

“Please. Enlighten me.”

“Well, if I may, you randomly leave Winterfell to Dragonstone without giving me any input on why you’re going-“

“It is none of your concern. Besides, you have no interest in political affairs-“

“So, my marriage is political? My marriage is none of my concern-” Alarra scoffed before finishing. “It’s my marriage!” Cregan’s mouth shut, forming a tight line. He was stunned for a moment before he spoke up again.

“Yes. It is political,” Cregan started, and Alarra scoffed sitting back further in her seat. Ser Wildrow was sitting there, still as a statue, staring ahead.

“But you have to understand I did it for you, Alarra-“

“You say you did it for me, but I do not believe you.”

“Everything I do is for you, for our house.”

Alarra stared out the window, her arms now crossed against her chest. She remained quiet, as the carriage shook. See Wildrow cleared his throat.

“It appears we have arrived, my lord.” Alarra turned her head to the opposite window, watching as a large black fortress appeared before her.

“Welcome to Castle Black.”

Alarra was bad at keeping secrets from Cregan. No matter how hard she tried or managed to think she got one past him, he found out somehow. She always thought the Gods were whispering in his ear, telling him all of her prayers, but she was just a bad liar. She got that trait from him, he was awful at keeping things from her as well. He always had a certain look on his face, as if he were going to explode at any moment.

When she was ten, Alarra had accidentally broken a vase, from running through the halls. Her face was beet red the whole day, and Cregan asked her why she broke it. She never even told him, and he somehow just knew.

Alarra and Cregan entered the Black Castle together, side by side and were instructed by Ser Wildrow to not be separated. Ser Wildrow had left them to speak privately with the Lord Commander, and Alarra and Cregan stood in silence inside the large common hall, filled with tables and seats. It was cold, freezing, even inside a barrier that was meant to keep them warm. Alarra was sitting at a table, her hands folded in front of her and she could hear the faint clashing of swords and grunts from the Night’s Watch outside. Cregan was peeking outside through a gap, most likely watching the criminals and unwanted.

“You should come watch them…not nearly as skilled as us.” Cregan muttered, turning away from the gap to face Alarra who was staring at the table.

“I can't imagine they would be…they are scoundrels.” Alarra muttered, distastefully. Cregan huffed, shaking his head.

“Not all of them. Some orphaned, some abandoned, some banished, some just boys.” Cregan glanced at the door again before he opened it leaving the hall without a word. Alarra gasped, standing from her seat quickly.

“Cregan-!” Alarra ran after him, slowly following as he stood outside, the wind blowing in his hair. Alarra let out a loud breath, standing next to Cregan now. “You can't just-”

“I can. And I will.” He said before he stalked off towards the group of men training. His feet crunched loudly beneath the dirt as he approached them and the clashing of their swords halted quickly, all of them huddled together speaking in low whispers.

“Well don't stop because you have an audience… go on now!” Cregan scanned all of them, walking in circles around them. They stood there for a moment, before they resumed their training and the wind picked up speed. Alarra’s hair whipped past her face as she stood by the door of the hall, watching her brother circle them like a hawk. Cregan’s face was growing darker as he watched them, the frustration clear as day.

“Stop!” He yelled before he approached one of the men adjusting his arms, holding the sword in an unsafe angle. They all stopped, turning to look at Cregan again. “Who’s taught you to fight? The horses?” Cregan turned from the man he was helping, to glance at every single one of the men. Then he turned around, his eyes meeting Alarra’s. He nodded his head, gesturing for Alarra to approach him. Alarra shook her head, puffing out a breath of air, her disdain clear. She grumbled curses under her breath, calling her brother names; names a lady should not be saying. The men watched her approach, smirks slowly making a way across all of their faces. They watched her, their eyes never leaving her figure, most likely never seen a woman inside or out of Castle Black.

“Unsheath your sword.” Alarra did as Cregan demanded, slowly pulling her sword out of its scabbard, the slick sound of it slicing through the air. The men’s smiles dropped, now gazing at Alarra with wonder. “A volunteer?” Cregan had a small smile on his face as he looked around the camp. None of the men moved, until one had a snarl on his face and he stepped forward.

“A woman? Showing me how to yield a sword?” A man spat as the rest of the males around him laughed, their deep cackles fueling Alarra’s anger.

“That woman is Alarra the Fierce. And you dare question the judgment of your Lord?” Cregan walked closer to the man, his face nearing his. The man backed down, lowering his head lightly.

“M’lord, I did not mean-” Cregan threw his sword on the ground, in front of the man's feet.

“Pick it up.”

“What?” The man’s head snapped upwards, his eyes wide.

“Pick up the sword.”

“M’lord I- this is Valyrian steel I cannot-” The man stuttered, obvious fear in his voice. He was meek, like a mouse, under Cregan.

“I command you. Pick. It. Up.” The man swallowed, his throat bobbing as he bent down to pick up the sword. But before he could touch it, a voice broke out against the crowd's murmurs.

“You dare command one of the Night’s Watch like some whore?” A man from the back of the crowd spoke up, pushing between the various groups. “You're not me lord.” He spat on the ground before Cregan’s feet, finally reaching him and before Cregan could speak up, Alarra stepped forward.

“I think we’ve found our volunteer, brother.”

“I’m not fightin’ a girl.” The man turned to Alarra, sneering as he spoke.

“Why? Scared?” Alarra tilted her head, gripping her sword harder now.

“I am a Ranger. You dare say I’m scared-“

“Not scared. Terrified.” Alarra whispered the last part, before the man growled under his breath, unsheathing his own sword.

“Now let’s make this even.” Alarra kicked Cregan's sword towards the man.

“Steel makes no difference to skill.” The man got into stance, a poorly strong stance, and bared his teeth. Alarra shrugged, getting into her own stance.

“Alarra the Fierce… I’ve heard stories ’bout you, girl.” The man was circling her, as was she, as he spoke in a deep baritone. Alarra grumbled from deep within her chest, glaring at the man.

“You’ll find them to be true.” Alarra gloated, before she shouted lunging at the man, her sword aiming for his shoulder. The man, unready, moved out of the way, his sword loosely catching hers. They danced back and forth, steel hitting steel, and Alarra realized she had the upper hand. She pushed him down hard, so that he was laying on his back on the ground with the sword falling out of his grip. Alarra pointed her sword at his neck, and he was breathing heavily, arms covering his face. The fight lasted ten seconds.

“And now a girl has you on your back, begging for forgiveness.” Alarra sneered, sheathing her sword and outstretching her hand to the man. The man’s hands lowered to reveal his surprised features, eyes wide and mouth agape. He stood up quickly, gathering his sword and ignoring Alarra’s open palm. His reputation had been ruined by a cub. Cregan had his arms crossed over his chest, scanning Alarra and the Ranger.

“I'll speak to the Lord Commander about enriching your skills in swordsmanship,” Cregan bellowed before he turned away from the group, heading back towards the hall. But, before he could leave, the Lord Commander and Ser Wildrow were standing at the ends of the crowds, watching. The Lord Commander's gaze was fixed solely on Alarra.

“Alarra the Fierce…good to see you, my lady.” The Lord Commander spouted, walking towards her and Cregan. Cregan’s head whipped, fast and hard, to look at Alarra. His eyes aggressively inspected her face, for signs of confusion. But he found none.

“Lord Commander.” She bowed her head, as a sign of respect. Cregan would figure it out soon. Secrets were not an unknown thing between the two siblings.

“I don't mean to intrude but I wish to speak to Cregan…alone.” The Lord Commander looked at Cregan and Cregan nodded before he turned to face Alarra.

“Don't get into too much trouble, little flame.” The two of them left Alarra alone with Ser Wildrow, to speak inside the hall. Alarra was about to turn around when she stumbled, almost tripping on a foot. She caught herself and turned around to face a ghostly faced boy, skinny and tall, his skin a dark caramel.

“Are you a knight?” The boy, not much younger than Alarra, approached her, his hands full of armor.

“I’m no knight. Just a lady.” The boy's eyes widened.

“Well you sure fight like a knight. Better than any man here.” Alarra laughed, her head tilted back towards the sky.

“I doubt that.”

“I’m no liar.”

“Thank you…” Alarra paused, giving the boy room to give her his name.

“Liram.” He said, before she threw all the armor on the ground. “Women aren’t allowed in here. How’d you manage to get in?” Alarra smiled, her head tilted to the side.

“I am certain I’m the only woman to enter here, Liram.” Liram’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“What? But how-?”

“Lady Alarra! You must not speak to the men-“ Ser Wildrow approached her, standing by her side to somehow protect her from the linky boy in front of her.

“It is alright. Liram here was just about to give me a tour.” Alarra smiled at Liram, before gesturing for Ser Wildrow to leave her. Ser Wildrow looked Liram up and down, warning him. Liram shrunk beneath his gaze and that was enough convincing for Ser Wildrow. Ser Wildrow bent down to whisper into Alarra’s ear.

“I will be your shadow, my lady.”

And then Ser Wildrow walked away, back towards his stationary spot at the door of the hall. Alarra turned back towards Liram, scanning him. He was a tiny boy, maybe sixteen, the youngest shed seen at Castle Black.

“Where are you from?”

“The Iron Islands, m’lady.”

“Hm, House Greyjoy.” Liram slightly snarled, scoffing and Alarra noticed the distastefulness upon his face. But she ignored it, opting to not push.

“Let me give you a tour, m’lady.”

Liram gave Alarra a wonderful tour, Ser Wildrow closely behind them. He showed her every part of Castle Black that he could, including the various towers and buildings. The three of them stood under Hardin’s Tower, gazing at its size. Alarra glanced at the Wall, made of ice towering over Castle Black.

“Have you been outside the Wall, Liram?” Alarra questioned, still staring at the Wall.

“No, never. I am merely a steward.” He said, watching the Wall as well. “I've heard whispers. About what's beyond. Men made of snow and ice live just outside it. Waiting.” Alarra was entranced by the Wall, she wanted to be the one to go outside of it. She wanted to slay these things outside the Wall. She wanted to be a Ranger. She wanted to defend the Wall. Go into the Haunted Forest. Be a Knight. But, she couldn't.

“My lady, I believe your brother is ready to depart.” Ser Wildrow was now standing next to Alarra, a hand on her shoulder. Alarra looked at Liram, bidding her goodbyes and thanks before Ser Wildrow whisked her away.

The carriage ride back to Winterfell was more palpable than the previous. Tensions had fallen, but Alarra still had a promise to uphold.

‘But tell him I wish to never speak to him after that.’

But, promises can be broken.

“Do you truly wish to never speak to me again?” Cregan muttered sadly, as the carriage rolled to a halt at Winterfell.

“No,” Alarra replied and Ser Wildrow exited the carriage, holding out a hand for Alarra.

She stood, taking Ser Wildrow’s hand, turning her head behind her shoulder to look at Cregan.

“But, promise me you'll write.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! I promise next chapter will be better, I feel this isn't my best work. Please give feedback, it’s greatly appreciated!

[theewokingdead]

Chapter One - Timing is Everything (Benny x f!Reader)

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader Summary: Living in Colorado, Benny struggles to deal with what happened in Colombia. A chance encounter starts to change his life - and yours. Word Count: 2.5k+ Rating: Explicit 18+ (for eventual smut in future chapters) Content: Language, PTSD, broody Benny. A/N: This series has been floating in my head since December. I can't listen to Garrett Hedlund's music without thinking about it. As always, thanks to @icanbeyourjedi and @musings-of-a-rose for offering some suggestions and encouraging me to write this. Please follow and turn on notifications for @theewokingdeadwrites to know when I update.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Benny never used to hate the rain.

As a child, he loved donning his green rubber boots and matching raincoat to jump in the puddles. He loved wrestling in the mud with his brother, Will; the constant losses he endured in his younger years fueled his growth into a young man who could complete against someone older and bigger. He loved fishing with his dad in the drizzle, the drops knocking gnats and other various bugs into the water, giving the fish a good meal and making them easier to catch. Most of all, he loved when it signaled that spring, and soon after summer, was on its way.

As an adult, Benny continued to find comfort and joy in the rain, even while crawling in the mud and running laps or completing missions in the pouring rain. The storms that frightened others made him feel energized – alive. He always longed for home, and the rain kept him close to it, the smell in the air always the same no matter where he was.

Benny loved the rain. Loved. The mission in Colombia changed everything.

Despite his intentions of making a fresh start in Colorado, as the cold rain beats against him, memories of Colombia flood his mind. It’s all so clear. The drops drenching his body as they stalked Lorea’s compound, his gloved hands gripping the gun he prayed he wouldn’t have to use. The way his wet clothes clung to him when he walked in the room to see Will injured on the floor, fearing the worst for just a moment before swallowing all emotion to focus on getting his brother – brothers -­ to safety. The chill in his bone as he shivered under the rock on the mountain, trying to focus on listening to the droplets as they hit the leaves, but only hearing the terrified cries of the innocent children on the cocaine farm, the sorrowful screams of their elders.

“You’re a good man, Benny,” Will had said to him. Yet hours later, he was quick to blame him for Tom's death, the fire he demanded they light to keep warm leading the vengeful villagers right to them. Santi denied that it was anyone’s fault, but Benny knows, deep down, that he is the reason for the folded flag on the living room shelf of the Davis’ home.

The smell of freshly roasted espresso permeates his nostrils, bringing him back to the present. Desperate to find refuge from the downpour, his feet carried him into a little coffee shop. Rain drips from the bill of his hat and his body trembles with cold. He sweeps the hat off his head and lightly shakes the water off, giving the room a quick glimpse of his golden hair.

Benny looks around, seeing the shop is small and warm. Large, plush couches fill the front, the small tables between them covered with books and board games. Wood and metal barstools line the length of the counter, where a single barista is smiling at him.

“Hello!” the barista greets, her liveliness a stark contrast to the dreary day outside. “What can I get started for you?”

Benny isn’t sure what to order. He’s not much of a coffee drinker and isn’t in the mood to venture trying one of those fancy coffees everyone seems to rave about.

“I’ll, uh…” He glances up at the menu for a moment before looking back at the barista, her smile friendly, warm, and patient. “I’ll have a small dark roast, please.”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Neither, thanks,” Benny replies. In his mind, there’s a joke about how he likes his coffee like his soul: dark and bitter. But she’s probably heard it a million times, and, truth be told, he’s not really in a joking mood.

“Anything else? We have all sorts of baked goods. Croissants, bagels, cake pops…”

“Uhh…” He briefly examines the glass case, not wanting to disappoint the barista by saying no. “How about a cookie? Chocolate chip?”

“Not much of a risk taker, are you?” she playfully jests, reaching into the case to pull out a large, gooey cookie. She places it in a small paper bag then slides it across the counter toward him, adding with a wink, “Good choice.”

After paying for his order, Benny turns to find a spot to sit, choosing one of the small tables lining the far wall of the shop. Taking a sip of his coffee, he catches a glance at his surroundings. The rain seems to have kept customers at bay, the shop surprisingly empty for the time of day. There are only a few people here, working away on laptops or reading from textbooks and notebooks scattered in front of them, clearly students from the university down the street.

Benny envies them - they have their whole lives ahead of them, not yet spoiled by the brutalities of the world. He was their age when life brutally taught him just how fragile it can be – too fucking young to know it. Too young to be tricked into fighting someone else’s war, to watch the soldiers – his friends ­– get blown to bits.

He evaded far too many close calls, and every single time he was asked the same question: How’d you get so lucky?

Lucky. The word always made Benny internally scoff. Is it really lucky to be in the right place at the wrong time? Is it lucky to be the one left behind to wonder why it was them and not him?

Guess it wasn’t my time, he’d always reply with a shrug and a grin, always using his boyish charm and sense of humor to mask the pain within, not letting anyone see that he was constantly wondering Why?

Cradling his coffee with both hands, Benny watches the steam rise out of the cup and into the air, lost in thought. He thinks of his eighteenth birthday, of the phone call with Will when he told him his plan to enlist. Stay where you belong, Will had said, all but begging him not to follow him into the military. But Benny’s mind was made up and he was too bullheaded to listen. I go where you go, Will.

He can’t help but wonder where he’d be in life had he listened to his brother just the one damn time. Things wouldn’t necessarily be better, just different. Different than the hell he’s been living the last three and a half years, brought on by the mental war he fights inside himself nearly every damn day.

As it always does when he gets too deep in thought, Benny’s mind spirals, a series of what-its seeping in and taking over. Emotions flare from the dormant images that flash in his brain. Benny feels himself slipping into the abyss, spiraling back in time toa nother place, and he knows he has to ground himself.

Rising to his feet, he moves to the counter. “Excuse me, ma’am… Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” the barista replies with a smile, finding a pen near the register and holding it out for him to take. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

In the months since he returned to Colorado, the past has increasingly creeped into his mind, his thoughts harder to contain than ever before. He never knows what the catalyst will be – the blood oozing from an injured animal, a gunshot ringing in the distance, the backfire of his father’s old farm truck, the rumble of thunder, even the smell of fresh paint. He feels like a fucking child again, always afraid – except now it’s not the boogeyman lurking around the corner, but his past.

Though work around the farm keeps him physically exhausted, it doesn’t help him move through his feelings the way fighting used to. Fighting required him to be completely present and focused, forcing him to learn how to quiet the negative and judgmental voices in his head. It allowed him to forget his problems – at least temporarily. Benny had to find a new outlet, and it quickly became writing.

He keeps a journal tucked under his mattress, his old hiding spot for Playboys that Will used to sneak him now a safe space for all his deepest, darkest thoughts. His English teachers always commended him in school for his writing, but it was never something he cared to pursue, staying away from what others boys deemed “sissy shit.” But now it’s the only thing that helps him make sense of his emotions and ease his pain; the only thing that helps him communicate what he’s feeling – even if it’s only the four walls of his bedroom that hears the lyrics he wrote as he strums on his old guitar.

Benny doesn’t know how long he sits there, pouring his soul onto white coffee shop napkins. He purges the words from his brain, bold black ink furiously spewing the thoughts that poison him. The more the pen moves, the freer he feels. He doesn’t stop, writing until his fingers are numb, his hand cramping.

After filling two napkins with his thoughts and ideas, Benny stops to peruse what he wrote, circling and making notes near keywords before moving onto a third napkin to create some sort of order out of the chaos. He jots down lyrics, crossing out wrong words and replacing them with ones that seem to fit better. It pours out easily at first, a couple verses about luck and fate and how they’re bullshit – put in less harsh words.

But he loses steam as quickly as it had come, finding it hard to get the words to rhyme or flow properly, not even able to find the right words. Just about everything feels off; it just doesn’t work. He’s not even sure what direction, if any, the song is headed in. Maybe that’s the problem: it lacks direction.

Sighing in frustration, Benny sets the pen down and checks the watch on his wrist.

“Shit,” he utters, realizing he stayed too long at the coffee shop. Now he’ll need to hurry to his appointment at the Driver’s License Office – something he’s already put off for far too long. Something about updating his license makes it all feel final, like there’s no going back to Tampa or his life as an MMA fighter. It should make him excited to close that chapter, but he has no idea what the next chapter holds. For the first time in his life, that scares him.

After scrambling to gather his things, he sets the borrowed pen down on the counter and hastily thanks the barista once more while quickly walking the remaining distance to the door. Using his shoulder to nudge the door open, he stops to peer out at the rain, drops beating heavily on the awning above him. Before taking another step, he hears a voice, which causes him to pause.

“Wait! Wait!”

Benny’s head snaps in the direction of the noise, his eyes locking on a figure running through the sheets of rain in his direction. He’s confused, watching as the figure emerges from the gloom and stops after reaching the safety of the awning. He sees that you have one arm tucked into the front of your coat, the other stretching the material to keep whatever you appear to be smuggling safe.

“Thank you!” you say breathlessly, knowing you would have struggled to open the door if he hadn’t come out at the right time. “Thank you so much, uh-”

“Benny,” he replies, a hint of confusion in his voice as he stares at you, water dripping from your clothes and nose.

“Benny,” you repeat, flipping a piece of wet hair out of your face, revealing a pair of the most beautiful eyes, a mix of colors that make him want to look closer. The face surrounding those remarkable eyes is just as stunning.

Letting your coat out of your clutch, you remove your arm, revealing a stack of papers in your hand.

“Would you like one?” you question, offering him a flyer. “Hot off the press, and, somehow, perfectly dry.”

“Thanks,” Benny says, accepting the paper with his free hand, looking down at it with confusion. “I’ll, uh… I’ll do my best to keep it that way.”

“Be ready for a very thorough inspection the next time I see you,” you tease in a serious tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” Benny replies, which forces your mouth to twist into a smile, small but pretty enough to bring a man to his knees. Benny would do anything to never see it leave your face. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

You softly stare up at his bright blue eyes, eyes that draw you in and seem to hold you captive. A flush creeps up on to your cheeks, ashamed of the scenarios your dirty mind instantly conjured up. Just the sound of those two simple words sends blood pumping to your core. Are you really so sex deprived that you’re thinking about a stranger attending to your needs? You curl your lips inward and gently bite down while dropping your eyes to the ground, hoping he doesn’t notice how flustered you’ve become.

“Well… Thanks again, Benny. Hope to see you again soon.”

Benny’s gaze follows you as you cross the threshold into the shop, watching as you walk up to the counter and drop the papers. Then, he turns and looks out into the rain, trying to processes what just happened, missing the glance you give over your shoulder. A soft smile on his face, he runs into rain. Somehow, the drops feel warmer than they did earlier that day.

As he walks into the driver's license building, he mindlessly hums the melody of a song that he’s not yet written.

After dropping the stack of freshly printed flyers on the counter, you disappear into the back of the shop to change into fresh clothes that you keep tucked away – you lost count of how many spills and other various mishaps happened before you learned your lesson to keep spares on hand.

Once you reemerge, you immediately get to work, using the lull in customers to tidy up the space. Bending down to pick up a discarded napkin on the floor near the tables lining the far wall, you see that it’s just than just garbage. It’s filled with handwritten notes, the handwriting beautiful, neat, and unique, almost like a font. The first letter of each word and every ‘A’ is capitalized. The words themselves are just as beautiful, the lines seeming to read like a poem – or maybe a song? A few words are crossed out and replaced with another, arrows drawn to indicate that parts should be moved, but you comprehend what’s intended.

I’ve had close calls

When it could’ve been me

I was young when I learned just how fragile life can be

I lost friends of mine

I guess it wasn’t my time

When you look up, wondering who could’ve written something so beautiful, tears swim in your eyes. Even though you don't know the author, it feels like you’ve peeked directly into their soul, and for some unknown reason, you feel compelled to share your own in return.

[megamindsecretlair]

It Started With a Whisper - Chapter 11

Chapter 10 Chapter 12

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Some sentences are intentional AAVE. FLUFF. ANGST. Cursing, mentions of grief, violence against Black men, Soft Sam. Sorry if I missed some!

Summary: A year after dating Sam, things began shifting in your relationship as you two grow on this journey through a superpowered world. You go to the Avenger's party after the opening scene of Age of Ultron and later on a date with Sam where he shares devastating news.

Word Count: 4,491k

Masterlist

A/N: I mentioned there was ANGST so don't throw tomatoes at me LOL. Thank you so much for your patience with me. When a fic isn't speaking to me, I have to let it lie for a moment. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I love hearing your thoughts! I block ageless blogs.

Taglist: @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby @leahnicole1219 @capswife @anghstybean @targaryenvampireslayer @sheabutterbabes @browngirldominion @theunsweetenedtruth @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap

You were freaking the fuck out on the elevator. You were in Iron Man’s house. Technically, not yet as you were still in the elevator on your way up. But still. You were in a place only a few were privy to. 

Sam stood next you, looking as dashing as ever in a red shirt and black jacket, keeping it casual. You decided to do the same, wearing a simple blue dress and flats. You were not going to fall on your ass in front of these people. At least not from heels.

The doors slid open and a wall of noise greeted you. You tried your best not to bug your eyes out looking at everything. It was so opulent, shiny, and new. The space was huge, obvious since Iron Man had the entire top floor to himself. But still, this place could fit five of yours and it still would be big. 

Sam placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, took a deep breath with you, and joined the party. He smiled and nodded at people, seeming to open up further inward. You pinched him every few moments every time you saw an Avenger. A freakin’ Avenger!

Hawkeye stood off to the side talking to a few people. Iron Man was dressed in a dark suit as he schmoozed with people around him. There were a few veterans down by the pool table laughing it up. 

“Sam! You made it!” You both turned to the right to see Steve making his way through the crowd. He wore a blue shirt and a brown jacket and you couldn’t help eyeing the similarities in their style.

No wonder they got along so well. They were both old men stuck in the body of thirty year olds. You couldn’t help but smirk as Steve and Sam greeted each other.

“Gorgeous as always,” Steve said, nodding to you. 

Your cheeks heated and you giggled. Sam looked at you like you were crazy. Could he blame you? You were on a first name basis with a superhero. Your life was officially nuts.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Enjoy the party. Try to at least,” Steve said. He smiled and moved away but you got the sense that he was unsettled. 

Throughout the party, Sam stuck to your side like glue. He introduced you around to the few people he did know. You saw Natasha speaking to a Black lanky man in a suit. Natasha turned her head to you and you waved.

Natasha excused herself and floated over to you. Her red hair was stark against her white dress and she looked dropped dead gorgeous. You told her as much and she waved you off. “I love to dress up when it’s on my terms,” she said.

“I’m stealing her, Sam.” Natasha looped her arm through yours and you turned to Sam. He lifted his eyebrows, asking if you were good. You found the one other person you knew here, so you weren’t completely alone. You nodded.

“Go grab a drink and catch up with Steve,” you told him. Though you were here to help celebrate their win against Hydra, you knew that Sam had to talk to Steve about Bucky. After a year of looking, you weren’t sure how much longer your man could continue. He placed so much stress on himself trying to impress Steve, it was worrying you.

“Come on, drink time,” Natasha said. She dragged you towards one of the bars. Yes, one of them. Iron Man had multiple. You grabbed your favorite drink, sipping it and letting it give you some liquid courage.

You and Natasha talked about your interview and how you took to the job. “I just hope I get it. I will strangely miss the front desk,” you said. You didn’t think that those words would ever cross your lips, but it was true. 

You liked working with Ariel and you could hide at the front desk. Running meetings, you were front and center often. And you’d have to defend yourself to a group of people who had been in combat where you hadn’t.

“Hey, outside perspectives are just as important. Everyone could benefit from that,” Natasha said. An Avenger was trying to cheer you up. You really had gone to Loony town. You thanked her and asked about being an Avenger.

“It’s…something,” she said, getting a smile on her face that you couldn’t decipher. “Someone’s got to do it right?” 

“Would you like to do something else?” You asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Never had a chance to consider it.” 

You got the hint that there was more but you weren’t going to pry. You sipped your drink and scanned the room. Sam found his way to the pool table, playing with Steve and some veterans. He looked so in his element, you wished you could take a picture. You were not going to be one of those people.

A booming laugh sounded from across the room and you shrieked a bit. “Got a taste for hot Nordic gods?” Natasha asked.

If you could sink down through the floor, you would. “He’s just so…” You didn’t have the words. He was big, charming, and a literal god. Like…who wouldn’t be obsessed with him? 

“Want to meet him?” Natasha asked.

“Absolutely not, I’d die,” you said with a laugh. You may regret it the rest of your coming days. You tried really hard not to let anxiety define you. You refused to end up like your mother, jumping at every single shadow. She had genuine issues but she refused to get any real help for it.

“Come on,” she said. She pulled you by the hand anyway towards that side of the room. You caught Sam’s eye as you did and he followed your path. He grinned and shook his head, noticing exactly where you were going. You mouthed for him to help you and he threw up his hands.

Asshole. You were so going to get him back for that later. Natasha brought you around some veterans by the couches. Thor sat there, telling a really wild story about something called…Frost Giants? You didn’t want to know.

Natasha introduced you as Sam’s girlfriend. Thor threw up his hands like you were long lost buddies. “Sam is a great man,” he said. 

Oh god - god- that accent. You only smiled and bobbed your head. So many things you wanted to say got twisted in your mouth, forming a little ball of nerves that made your tongue stop working. Thor, a god, just smiled at you.

“She will be a counselor soon,” Natasha said.

“I don’t have it yet,” you corrected.

Thor smiled. “Ah, I’m sure you will be a fine…counselor,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, finally able to speak like you had some sense. “And thank you for…all that you do.”

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl into a tiny hole and never get out. You sounded so stupid. Natasha was enjoying every second of it. She leaned against a couch as you spoke and Thor clapped his hands together. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it sounded like thunder.

“Team effort all around. I’m only glad I could help,” he said.

A veteran came to punch Thor in the shoulder. “Let me tell you a story now, son,” the man said. 

You smiled and waved to Thor as he excused himself and sat down to talk to the veterans. You were sick to your stomach, yet glad that you did get to speak to Thor. He was so gorgeous in his red jacket, long hair pulled behind him. If you weren’t with Sam…you’d be dating some loser. Because Thor already had a human girlfriend who was a friggin’ genius. And there was no way you would even attempt flirting with the man.

Besides, you didn’t want to compete for shower time when wash day came around. 

You joked with Natasha and tried to keep an eye on Sam but he was too far gone in the swing of the party. You decided to relax a little. You were not a little kid with a security blanket. You were capable of relaxing and enjoying the party.

Natasha introduced you to a few more people, someone named Rhodey was the same man she had spoken to earlier. Another man named Bruce. You shook his hand. He was adorable with curls and a nice suit. He looked even more uncomfortable than you did at this party. There was also Maria who was also tall and gorgeous, with a beautiful red dress.

You managed to relax as you humanized these people. Yes, they were larger than life and taking on threats no one even knew about. But they were still people. Or human-like in the case of Thor. They were just people who had power who chose to fight for the human race. It was admirable and made you love these people even more. Not only as a fan but now as a…friend? 

Were you friends with the Avengers? Was that a thing? They knew your name. Surely, that qualifies as friends right? 

A snatch of movement made you look up to see Sam on the top floor, looking out over the crowd. He was in a deep conversation with Steve, sipping on his glass. Probably bourbon of some kind.

He didn’t see you so you were content to look at him, your eyes always drawn to him. He was so damn sweet and kind. This was beyond anything you had imagined for your future. But you couldn’t imagine your life without Sam now.

He was such a huge part of it, you weren’t even scared anymore at the thought. You just wanted to see where else you went and where else you found yourselves. He had been all over the world already, but he said he wanted to explore it again at his leisure with you.

The party was starting to wind down and Sam had come back to your side. You were still talking to Natasha when strong hands circled your waist. His chin came to rest on your shoulder with a deep sigh. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long,” he said.

“That’s okay. I hogged Natasha all night,” you said.

She smirked and shook her head. “You’re way better company than these boys,” she said. She said good night and left you two alone. 

You turned in your seat at the bar, facing him. He cupped your face and brought you closer for slow, deep kiss.

It took a moment for your eyes to blink open, but when you did, you looked up into his pretty brown eyes. “You are amazing, you know that?” He asked.

“You are,” you said. 

“Home?” He asked.

“Lead the way,” you said.

Sam grabbed your hand and led you from the party. You giggled a bit as you saw an old man being escorted out. He looked like he partied a bit too hard. You ended up yawning on the way down from Avengers Tower, feeling a bit like Cinderella. 

You rested your head on his shoulder as all the adrenaline left your body. You naturally felt so safe and calm with Sam, it was like he shooed all of your fears and worries away. On the way home, you barely kept your eyes open as Sam entertained you with his thoughts on the party.

Somehow, you made it to his place and in one of his T-shirts. You closed your eyes for half a second, and he was climbing in behind you, wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you into his chest. 

It was exactly where you wanted to be, forever.

One month later…

You giggled on the phone with Ariel while you got ready for dinner with Sam. Even though it was approaching a year and half with him, he still took you on proper dates. He wanted to see you dolled up. 

By now, he’s seen you in your bonnet and still thought you were hot enough to snack on. He’s seen you at your absolute worst, sweating and heaving that time you got food poisoning. And he’d seen you at your absolute best, for your sibling’s graduation and how you clapped and whistled with pride.

Ariel was telling you about Ruby. They had almost been dating as long as you and Sam. “Ya’ll make me so sick,” you said, teasing.

“We make our own selves sick,” Ariel said, full of affection. “I still can’t believe I’m living somebody. Me!” 

“I know. Miss Fuck These Hos,” you said.

“Right! That fuckin’ part there!” She screamed and you laughed. You held up two sets of earrings up to your ear, trying to decide which one went better with your tawny brown dress. You felt like being extra fancy, even going as far as to get a manicure and pedicure. 

Tonight felt no different than any other night, but if he was going to keep asking you on elaborate dates, then you were going to continue getting pretty for no reason. The dress was a tad too short, showing off your thick legs, but Sam would love it. That’s all that mattered.

The doorbell rang and you told Ariel that you would talk to her later. “Tell Sam to have you home by eleven sharp. I don’t know why you think you grown all of a sudden,” Ariel said.

“Bye!” You cackled as you made your way downstairs with your shoes. Your dad was shuffling towards the door. It seemed like he got slower and slower every day now. He got winded walking up the stairs. Still, you begged him to go to the hospital but he was too afraid to leave your mother for anything other than work.

He opened it, greeting Sam and shaking his hand. Sam talked to your dad, his voice already doing wonders on your body. You descended the rest of the stairs and came around the landing. Sam’s face instantly lit up, taking in your outfit.

You twirled a bit for him, walking over to him and hugging him. “I don’t even know what to say. You are so gorgeous,” he said.

You smiled and patted his chest. “You charmer,” you said. “Dad, take your medicine, please? If you don’t, I’m driving you to the hospital.” 

Your dad waved you off. “Son, will you remind this young lady that she is young and should be worrying about herself?” Your dad kissed your temple and shuffled back over to the living room chair. 

“Yes, sir, I will.” Sam laughed and escorted you out the house. 

“I’m worried about him.”

“I know,” Sam said and kissed you on your temple. “He worries about you too.” 

You climbed into the car and soon you were off to some restaurant that Sam picked out. You talked about nothing and everything. You talked all day long and yet when you got in the car with him, you found more and more topics to talk to him about.

You talked about everything. Superheroes, life, the fate of the world, politics, religion. There was no subject off limits between you two. Though you tried hard to stop, there was always something in the back of your mind waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You weren’t expecting Sam to let you down. It was more that you couldn’t trust something that made you this happy. After a lifetime of cleaning up other people’s messes, it was a wonder that you got to keep something for yourself. Sam made you this happy. 

After parking the car and holding your hand right up to the front door of the restaurant, you couldn’t help studying him.

“I got something on my face?” He asked.

You giggled and shook your head. “You just make me really happy, Sam,” you said.

He grinned at you, planting a soft kiss against your cheek. “You’re my happy place,” he whispered against your cheek.

Settled into your seats, the evening passed in a hazy like way. You talked and giggled and made fun of each other’s plates. It was like you were watching a montage of the greatest hits in your relationship. You paid attention to the vibe and atmosphere of the place.

Cozy, intimate. The pasta was good and delicious. You ordered your favorite one and spent the night defending it to Sam. He only chuckled and said he still liked you despite your weird choices.

You were perusing the dessert menu, wondering what you could take home. You always found a second stomach for dessert but tonight you were stuffed.

“I need to tell you something,” Sam said slowly. You looked up at him. He wasn’t really looking at you, playing with his napkin on the table. 

Butterfly wings flapped painfully in your gut. Was he going to…propose? It had only been a year! You took in your surroundings. It would be a pretty nice setup for it. But, it was too soon right? Right? 

“Okay,” you said. Your voice was small, breathy, fear clogging up your vocal chords. You wouldn’t be able to speak had you wanted to. You hadn’t even exchanged I love you’s yet. Did you love him? Could you marry him? Should you be panicking this much?

“It’s about the Avengers,” he said.

You loosed a sigh. Thank God! You didn’t know what you would do if he did propose. Now that he wasn’t, you weren’t that relieved. Did that mean something? Shit, you were turning into your mother.

The last you heard of the Avengers, they had been overseas involved in a huge conflict regarding some kind of sentient robot? The news coverage had been spotty and you weren’t sure you wanted to know. 

Watching the news these days has started to break your heart. There was always something major going on in the world. And with these superheroes becoming more frequent, so did the bad guys. Sort of like a chicken and the egg situation. Did the villains come first or the heroes? Who spurred the other to action first?

The devastating effects of what happened in Sokovia was too much for you to comprehend. An entire country had dropped in on itself, killing thousands. The Avengers had stopped that ordeal, but barely. And with so much loss of life. You shivered.

“I do not envy them that job,” you muttered to Sam. You placed the dessert menu down and gave him your full attention. “What’s up?” 

Sam took a deep breath and finally looked at you. “I have decided to join the Avengers,” he said.

You stared at him, your head cocked to the side, trying to decipher what he just said. You giggled nervously and shook your head. “Sorry, it sounded like you said you joined the Avengers.”

Sam nodded. “Steve asked me to join. With Tony retiring, Barton retiring, Bruce off world, Thor back in Asgard…he needs a new team. I said yes,” Sam said.

You licked your dry lips. A tickle in the back of your throat burned with a repressed cough. You drank some water. Tears pricked your eyes. Your chest thundered with your heartbeat. Beating wildly against your rib cage.

“Please say something,” Sam said.

You scoffed. “You took me to fucking dinner, knowing I can’t blow up like I want to,” you snapped. 

“That’s not why,” Sam said.

“Are you kidding me? Like are you actually joking?” 

“No, I’m not. I have a chance to do good in the world. Way more than I did as a pararescueman. I can help people on a global scale,” he said.

“Fighting aliens and robots and shit? Are you nuts?” Your voice was getting higher, drawing attention from nearby tables.

Heat burrowed through your chest. You felt explosive. As if you could simply burn from the inside out. You stared at Sam, desperately trying to figure out what was running through his mind.

“I know it’s dangerous, but it’s not anything–” 

“So you just make this huge ass decision and say nothing? A year together and I supported you going off to hunt down you-know-who. I supported you working with Steve because it meant that you would come back. We talked about how you didn’t want to join the Avengers, that it wasn’t your thing. And now? What changed?” 

“Steve asked me-”

“Oh, Steve asked you. That makes all the fucking difference,” you said. You couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe that he would just…accept it and not say anything. What did it mean for you? Did he expect you to join him? The hell were you going to do at an Avengers compound? Play mammy? 

“Let me finish,” Sam snapped, a sign of his own anger. It was rare to see it. Rarer still that it was directed at you. “Yes, Steve asked me and I wrestled with this decision alone. Before you start, I’m not asking for anything to change between us. I know how you are with your family. I’m not going to ask you to move with me or give up the opportunity to become a counselor,” he said.

“How I am with my family?” 

Sam sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that-” 

“How did you mean it, Sam?” Your voice was deceptively calm. You were so furious, you could toss him through the wall and not give two shits about it. The tears in your eyes turned annoying. You swiped them away from your face. Sam saw the gesture and his mouth turned into a frown.

“I meant that I know you take care of your family and I’m not trying to rip you away from them. The compound is not that far from here. We can take the train to see each other. You always said you wanted to take more train trips.”

“With you! With you by my side. Not on my fucking way to see you,” you said. 

“You have every right to be mad,” he said.

“Don’t shrink me, Sam. This is bullshit. You ambushed me,” you said. You couldn’t even inject any venom in your words. You were just hurt. So fucking hurt, your heart was on fire. He set it ablaze like a wildfire through your veins. 

You knew this was too damn good to be true. Here was the shoe drop. Really, this was your first real fight and it was turning ugly fast. “You didn’t fucking trust me enough to make this decision with me. You just made it. Ever since you went on your little adventure with Steve, you’ve been chasing that high.” 

“What?” Sam asked. “I don’t get high doing this.”

“You like feeling useful. Sticking up for this bullshit ass country that doesn’t give a shit about you!” You didn’t care if you were yelling. You didn’t care that you were making a scene. You didn’t care that you had become one of those cliched Black couples that fought in public and made it everyone else’s problem. 

You were a funny story now in someone else’s life. While your world was crumbling around you, disappearing before your very eyes. Marriage, picket fence, some kids running around. All of it was snatched away with a few simple words from him. 

You were about to ugly cry and you didn’t want him to see it. You stood up from the table and threw your napkin down. “I’m going home.” 

You walked out of the restaurant into the bitter cold of DC. The cool air could not dampen your anger. In fact, it made you rage. Bubble over with it. Consumed by it. It swallowed you whole. You pulled your phone out of your purse with shaky hands. You could call Ariel but you didn’t want rationality right now. You wanted to throw something. Hit someone. Tears fell freely away from prying eyes.

Your temper has always scared you growing up. How your little body would fill up with so much rage. You would punch walls, break things, toss things. When your mom got on your case enough times, you internalized that rage. You listened to music too loudly to hurt your ears, you bit your lip to the point of bleeding, you picked at scabs to leave scars. You didn’t cut yourself, you didn’t want anything too obvious. You didn’t want people to worry about you. You had bombs quaking in your bones whenever you were angry and you wanted to minimize the fallout every time.

You had worked so hard not to be this person. To push your emotions away until you could trot them out in the safety of your room. Dole them out and feel them one at a time so you aren't overwhelmed. 

You hated being ambushed most of all. There was no way to guard against that. No way to prepare and stick your feelings in tiny boxes to be unwrapped later. Away from others.

Fuck him. He knew that. You had no indication that he wanted to join the Avengers. How could he ask you to live with that uncertainty? In the military, he dealt with human villains. Human scum who committed acts of violence on others. That was one thing.

With the Avengers, there was no telling who or what he would go up against. And you were terrified that you’d get a call one day telling you that he didn’t make it home. You couldn’t lose him. Not like that. It hurt too much to think about.

You called for an Uber and waited away from the restaurant. Why couldn’t he be more selfish? Why couldn’t he protect himself? Hadn’t he done enough for this shitty ass country? When was it enough? When would Black men stop shedding blood for this cruel country? 

“Wait!” Sam jogged out of the restaurant. You held up your hands. 

“Not another step, Sam,” you said. You sniffled, the tears making a mess of your makeup. 

“Baby, please,” he said. He was out of breath. Tiny clouds escaped his mouth as he stared at you. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Fuck you! Now you want to talk? When your mind is already made up?” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

Your heart cracked. You could feel the jagged crack splitting your heart in two. You wanted to run into his arms and hold on tight. But you also wanted to kick his fucking teeth in.

“I’m not safe to be around like this, Sam.” 

“Let me take you home,” he said. He stepped closer and you stepped away. Your phone dinged with your approaching Uber. 

The small sedan pulled over to the curb. You confirmed the driver details and license plate and climbed in. “Wait!” Sam called after you.

You told the driver to move and you didn’t look back. You let the tears cloud your vision on the way home.

Masterlist | Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

[awesomerextyphoon]

Realm Discoveries While Hangry

Summary: Ife's not herself while hangry, especially on a mission. Luckily, this one worked out for the best.

Pairing: Slight Steve Rogers x Black!Alien Warrior Princess OFC Ifekerenma aka Ife

Characters: Natasha, Steve, Ifekerenma, Nick Fury, OFCs, mentions of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner

Rating: 18 + / Mature

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Dark Comedy Bordering on Absurdity, Ife being a Badass Glutton, Some Violence, Some Fluff

A/N: This is the start of something a little different. I want to make some short stories that will tie back into the main series whenever I'm between chapters. I'm still working on the main series and the next chapter will be published before the end of 2023. Thanks to @firefly-graphics for the dividers!

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

What was with these supposed 'geniuses' always wanting to rule the world?

The amount of hubris one needed to go through with it never ceased to amaze Natasha. This week's version wanted revenge on the science community for calling him 'stupid' and 'crazy' over his theories on creating titan fauna and megaflora.

Someone, please shoot me.

If Nat had a dollar each time she heard some version of the 'Why I must hold the world hostage' speech, she'd be able to bribe Tony to let her control the music for mission trips.

Steve wished they would drop the speeches already. He just hoped Ife was almost done with the power cells so they could drop the charade and go home.

"Now! Watch as I claim what's rightfully mine!" the mad scientist finally finished his speech by pressing the detonation button, but nothing happened.

" What's happening? Why isn't working?!"He pressed the button another three times to no effect, "Why aren't the missiles firing?!"

The mad scientist was about to radio his henchmen outside of the main chamber when he heard bullets pouring like rain outside the hangar followed by frantic shouts from his men.

"SOMEONE STOP HER!!"

"NOTHING'S WORKING!!"

"GET THE TANKS!!"

"FIRE AT WILL!!"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE?!!"

"SHE'S AN ABOMINATION!!"

"What on Earth is going on out there?" He wondered as he carefully made his way to the entrance, only for a downright beastly roar frightening nearly everyone into silence.

"What the" A soft knock at the hangar doors broke his concentration.

Ife was pissed.

She FINALLY had some decent food after not getting a chance to refuel after expending her energy reserves from her last mission, but it was barely a morsel. It took no time to devour all of the titan fauna the henchmen unleashed on her, unaware those were inferior albeit still tasty versions of food from her homeworld. She even found some yummy megaflora.

It was a bummer Ife was famished. She would've prepared them better to bring out their flavors.

Another tank shell bounced off of her.

When will these fools learn that this is pointless? Conventional Earth weapons are nothing to her. Well, at least the energy from their artillery aided with digestion. Also, the power cells were tasty; they had a refreshing tropical fruity taste with notes of mint.

Now the scientist refused to open up, even after she knocked, "Guess I'll have to let myself in."

The scientist tried his best to steel himself, only for the two-meter thick air hangar doors and part of the solid stone walls to rip off like cheap wrapping paper.

His eyes almost bugged out of their sockets at the intruder — a tall woman — casually lifting both doors in one hand and a 250-ton tank in the other. The woman turned to two tied-up Avengers, smiled, and threw both items 1500 meters away with a flick of her wrists.

"Hi, Captain, Black Widow. How's it going?"

"Can't complain," Steve answered.

"Why haven't you escaped yet? It would've taken you two seconds to get out," Ife queried rubbing her growling tummy. Her telltale sign of hunger.

"We were waiting for you," Nat retorted while raising an eyebrow.

This will be fun.

"What happened to your comms link?"

"Well…I was preoccupied."

"With what?"

The woman's eyes brightened, "I found some yummy food not unlike Avlenia, but they barely did anything for me. I ate everything the goons unleashed and then some, but I'm still hungry! Which sucks cuz I wasn't able to properly prepare them-"

That can't be right.

That chamber housed hundreds of exotic beasts and flora with a combined weight of 312.5 THOUSAND TONS!! There was no way a single person could eat one of those behemoths, let alone all of them.

"MONSTER!!"

"Huh?" Ife finally noticed the scientist and his remaining goons.

"Do you have any more? I'm STARVING!"

"No one should eat one of those beasts, let alone all of them!"

Ife raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Maybe not possible for humans, but, "she strolled towards the scientist and started unzipping her combat suit, "that was only a snack for me, and it left me hungry for more."

The scientist cried out in horror when a belly 3x the size of an exercise ball surged forth.

How is she moving?! His eyes darted over to her comrades but found them lightly chuckling with the spy sporting a smirk.

"So, do you have any more food? Don't leave me in suspense."

The monster rolled her eyes at the rude man's silence, "So you still don't believe me. Okay. Let's see. One of the beasts was this large six-legged alligator…"

She started listing the various beasts and megaflora that were now digesting in her rapidly shrinking belly.

Galala Gator: 90 tons each, Ox Chicken: 15 tons each, Giant Turkey: 75 tons each, Volcano Weathercock: 10 tons each, Five-Tailed Giant Eagle: 45 tons each, Demon Devil Serpent:100 tons each, Elephantsaurus: 125 tons each, and so on.

Every 'food item' this monster blithely listed horrified everyone besides her teammates who were trying not to laugh. Each of these specimens took elite teams to capture; several men died in the process.

Yet this Eldritch Being glutted all of their hard-won gains as a 'pitiful snack'!

"How? How is this possible?" The devastated scientist barely choked out a whisper as her enormous belly was nearly flat.

Unfortunately, the monster's sharp ears heard the whisper, "All of those delicious beasts, flora, and the energy from the power cells barely made a dent! Tell me where you got this bounty! I'm Starving!"

As if to make her point, the monster turned her head towards the hole she made and let out a near-deafening roar of a belch demolishing what was left of the wall and pushing back all of the remaining men and tanks outside.

What is this monstrosity?!

"Shit!" Not only did the wimp not answer Ife's question, but now he's slumped on the floor.

"He's out cold, Ife."

"I can see that, Nat. All I wanted was some more food!"

"Some?"

"Fine. But you know he didn't make them from scratch. He had to have gotten from somewhere."

Some of the stronger-nerved goons were able to recover from Ife's Roar, "Damn, that woman's scary!"

"Nah, man. She's a monster in human skin."

"Which is a shame, too. She's fucking hot!"

"I know, right?! Wouldn't mind going a few rounds with her."

Steve scowled as he marched up to six of the trash-talking goons inside one of the still intact tanks, ripped off the tank's hatch, and yanked four of them by their collars."I'm only gonna say this once. Never, and I mean never, say that crap about my team. Especially the 'abomination', got it?" his voice never rising above a calm, measured tone.

"Yes!"

Steve felt he needed to drive this home, "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good."

Nat rolled her eyes at Ife's bashful body posture at Steve defending her. They weren't fooling anyone.

Ife was able to pick up the scent of more delectable beasts and flew off to satisfy her voracious appetite. The scent came from a fortified bunker not far from the main base. She ripped off the building by the foundation in her haste to fill her hunger void.

It led her to a heavily fortified manmade cavern with a huge portal at the opposite end of the entrance and containment units housing even more of the delectable beasts lining the sides.

She licked her lips in excitement but stopped when she got a good look at the animals. That craven of a scientist is lucky she's too hungry to revisit him.

"I should probably tell Nat and Steve."

Nat peered into the last unlocked containment unit. She found a giant garden snake-like creature that seemed to take a liking to her. Its scales were the color of twilight at its height. She wondered if-

"You should name her."

Nat nearly swiveled her head, "What?"

"She likes you. You should name her."

"How can you tell?"

"I just know," Ife shrugged.

"Hmm. How about сумерки (Sumerki: twilight)?"

The snake affectionately rubbed her head against the reinforced glass containment wall.

"See? She loves it!"

Sumerki was the last beast on this side of the portal and was about to pass through but turned and playfully poked Ife's midsection.

"You want me to come with you?" The snake nodded.

Ife turned back to Steve and Nat, "Umm, can I-" her stomach roared asking the question for her.

"It's alright, Ife. You can go, but don't be long." Steve rubbed his hand behind his head. Neither of them wanted to deal with a hangry Ife.

Ife flew into his warm embrace, "Thank you so much!" She kissed both his cheeks, "I promise to document everything I see!"

When will those lovable dorks admit they love each other?

It wasn't long before Ife and Sumerki came back smiling and sporting enormous food bellies. Ife sped off before she could say anything. The next thing they heard was a five-minute sonic roar of a belch causing mini-tremors and cracks forming on the ground.

Sounds of her epic belch were heard 15km away.

They were glad that the scientist was stationed in the middle of nowhere.

Ife flew back into Steve's arms, "Thanks again!" Ife smiled as Steve returned the hug.

Both Natasha and Sumerki shook their heads wearing the same expression.

Ife pulled out her tablet and personal interface, "Okay, so my hunch was right and this place is incredibly vast. I was only able to explore .25% of the place."

Even Natasha was taken aback by the amount of information Ife had, "Just how big is this place?"

"So this new 'realm' is called Guloxity?"

Fury turned the last page of Ife's extensive report. He had a laugh at her devouring over 300K tons of food and was still famished.

The whole team had a laugh riot. Tony even joked about how much he'd save on grocery bills—even though she provides most of her food. It's the least he could do since he blackmailed her into joining the team.

Thanks to her, SHIELD has access to a new realm. Plus the snake she and Natasha befriended has been a delight. However, he did wonder how Ife and her friends were able to create a habitat and a size modulator so quickly.

"Do you find the terms agreeable?" Aliza looked back at Fury's desk. The deal stipulates that any findings and all findings SHIELD makes involving the new realm must be free and open to the public. This means that all patents and research can not be owned by any single nation or corporation including Stark Industries.

Banner had consoled Stark when he read out the terms.

No matter. Fury had his best people on this new venture. Even managed to rope in Banner and Dr. Cho. Ife was able to recreate the unique energy signature from the mad scientist's power cells as a source of renewable energy.

In the end, he was glad it worked out.

Now what's this about Ife showcasing new dishes based on what she found in Guloxity?

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @lookiamtrying @angrythingstarlight @gotnofucks @saiyanprincessswanie @navybrat817 @plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms @idorkish @sgt-seabass

[casspurrjoybell-28]

Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 18

*Warning: Adult Content*  

If there's one thing I notice when I see Daemon and his brother, Theo, standing next to each other, it's that they look nothing alike.

While Theo is paper-white pale, Daemon's skin tone is darker, tan and sun-kissed, with a golden warmth to it.

Theo's blonde hair is slicked back with gel, a stark contrast to Daemons, which is dark and kind of shaggy and honestly he's in need of a haircut but somehow the rolled-out-of-bed style suits him.

And while Theo is freshly clean-shaven, Daemon's stubble forms a five o'clock shadow on his jaw.

They both have dark eyes like Lucien but they just don't look like brothers at all.

As I stand in the entryway with the three insanely tall Alphas, it's a bit intimidating.

Especially with Theo inspecting me like I'm a cell sample under a microscope.

I just keep my head down like Daemon told me to because yeah, this dude is intense.

"So this is the Omega you took in from Blood Creek?" Theo asks skeptically.

"Yes. This is Ash," Lucien places his hands on my shoulders. "And Ash, this is my son Theo.

"N-nice to meet you," I stutter out meekly.

"I just find it kind of strange," he ignores me.

"What use does he have? Why take in an orphan all of the sudden?"

I'm a bit put off by the way he says it, noting the disapproval in his tone.

But it's not surprising with the way he's looking at me like I'm a bug.

I see Daemon's jaw twitch as eyes his brother with disdain.

Lucien sighs as if he expected this.

"Theo, do I really have to explain my choices right now? It's a sensitive topic for Ash and I really don't think..."

"He's telling you to fuck off, Theo. And I second that," Daemon interjects, a smug look on his face as his brother glares at him.

"I don't believe I was talking to you, dunce," Theo huffs.

"But I suppose imbeciles like yourself don't understand what a tête-à-tête is."

"Shut the fuck up. Stop talking like you think you're Harry Potter."

I'm mortified when I let out a small snicker at Daemon's comment, quickly trying to cover it up with a cough as I restrain the smile that threatens to surface on my lips.

But as I look up at both of them, at Theo who's scowling as his face reddens and at Daemon who wears a shit-eating grin, looking proud that he's amused me, I know my 'cough' isn't believed. 

I feel Lucien's grip on my shoulders tighten ever so slightly.

"Boys, behave," his voice filled with warning toward his sons.

"You're both adults, so act like it."

Daemon wasn't exaggerating when he said he and his brother don't get along.

After a painfully long dinner, while Daemon and his brother go back and forth as Lucien looks like he's about to lose his shit, I'm finally able to escape to the living room as they go to the study for their pack business, whatever it is.

Apparently, they need to aid the Blood Creek Pack, which is having some conflict with a rival pack.

But that's about all I hear before they are off, leaving me to my own devices.

As I sit down on the sofa, I try to recall what we ate but I can't remember whatsoever.

Probably because all I've been doing is replaying the moment I had with Daemon in my room earlier.

If Lucien hadn't interrupted us, what would have happened?

And do I wish something  had happened?

Does Daemon?

I just don't know.

I have no idea what he's thinking or how I should act around him now.

I mean we're still not on the best terms.

But it's all so confusing. Ugh.

I should talk to my friends about this.

That reminds me, I wanted to call Wren and check in on him.

So I pull out my phone and do so.

It rings three times before he picks up, sounding confused.

"Ash..? Why are you calling?"

"I just wanna talk with you..." I say, not knowing how to address the situation.

If there even is one.

"Look, if it's about how I was at lunch today, Lylah already called me out on it. But I'm fine, really. I'm just going through it right now."

"You are? Wren, you should've told me. I've been so worried about you."

I hear him sigh into the microphone.

"Ash, I don't think it's something you'd understand."

"Of course I will!.Tell me what's bothering you," I prod, wanting to be the support he needs.

"I don't think so."

My heart drops, disappointed he doesn't want to confide in me.

Does he not trust me enough?

But I want to respect his boundaries so I don't push any further.

"Alright. I didn't mean to bother you..."

"It's okay Ash," he reassures me "I'm not bothered."

There is finality to his statement, signaling I should drop it but I don't want to end the call so soon.

So I decide to bring up another topic.

"Oh yeah, Jay wants to hang out with us outside of school. Isn't that awesome?"

Wren is quiet for a moment.

"He wants to hang out with us? Or just you?"

His passive-aggressive tone makes me nervous, worried I've said something wrong.

I thought Wren would be happy about hanging out with Jay.

He seemed excited about the Alpha during lunch, at least before he suddenly left.

"W-well I think he meant with all of us. And I would be more comfortable if you and Lylah were there anyway."

"Ash, I don't have time for this. My mom's calling for me so I have to go," he hangs up abruptly, leaving me at a loss.

I can't help but feel like I've just made the situation worse.

He didn't seem like he wanted to talk to me at all.

And that makes me sad because I want to talk to him.

He's one of my best friends but he just feels so distant and I have no idea why.

Is he already tired of me?

Just like I was worried about when I first met both him and Lylah?

That could be what's happening.

But I really hope that's not the case.

I won't be able to bear it if it's true.

I need my friends more than anything.

They accepted me and showed me kindness and I can't let them go now.

I'm just going to need to work hard to get on Wren's good side again.

I text Lylah a few minutes later, telling her what happened with Wren and she tells me she hasn't been able to get anything out of him either.

Just what is going on with him?

Feeling down, I decide to turn on a show.

I flip through the channels, getting mesmerized by a cartoon with bright flashing colors.

I'm still watching when Daemon and Theo walk in, presumably done with their meeting.

Embarrassed, I quickly turn it off but the remote fumbles in my hand and I drop it.

Shoot. I snatch it up, sheepishly turning to see Theo giving me that inspecting look again.

"I see you've become quite comfortable here, Omega."

"He has a name, dipshit," Daemon snaps at him.

Pshhh.

It's not like Daemon ever calls me my name either.

It's always "Omega this, Omega that" but I guess to him it's only okay if he says it.

One thing I can say is that I'd take him calling me Omega over Theo calling me it any day.

The way Theo says it makes my skin crawl.

Theo scoffs at his brother.

"Quit being so touchy, Daemon."

"Quit being an idiot then."

A small smile comes to my lips as I watch them argue.

Two grown Alphas getting on each other's nerves is pique comedy to me apparently.

Daemon notices, of course, giving me one of those narrow-eyed smirks that has me shyly looking away.

I almost want to stop him as he starts to get ready to leave but what would I say?

He's not anything to me and I'm not anything to him.

We're just two people that have to put up with each other.

But as I watch him leave through the entry, staring at the closed door for a minute, something possesses me to stand up and go after him.

I rush outside to the porch, breathless, only to find Daemon and his car have already gone.

Awe man.

What was I hoping for anyway?

I sigh disappointedly, about to head back in when I hear the clearing of a throat beside me.

I jump as Theo steps out of the shadows, scaring me half to death.

Was he there the whole time?

"Oh, I didn't see you there," I say, trying to be friendly but it just feels awkward.

And he definitely doesn't look like he's in the mood for friendliness.

"I'll get straight to the point, Ash Willow. You've got my father wrapped around your little finger and I don't like it. I don't know if you're trying to worm your way into inheritance or want to influence him because he's the Head Alpha but you'd better not try anything. Because I'm watching you," he accuses, lip curling threateningly.

I blink once.

Twice.

What did he just say?

"I... that's not..."

Theo holds up a hand.

"I don't want to hear it. Just think about what I've said. Because all the odds are against you, little rat."

He leaves me on the porch, utterly speechless.

That was not what I had in mind for the first meet with Daemon's brother.

And I can't believe he thinks I have those kinds of intentions with Lucien.

That's absurd.

And to even call me a rat... that's just rude.

I hope I don't have to see him again anytime soon.

[stories-mostly]

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x Son!reader

=Masterlist=

Finally! This took me so long to write like what the hell. Anyway enjoy :)

Words: 2044

Warnings: None

Chapter 18

"Can I help?" You looked over your dads shoulder as he opened the first case and dug through it.

"Don't you have homework? Do that first and then we'll see."

Begrudgingly you sauntered off and got your school stuff. It's not like it's that important anyway, at least how you saw it.

You sat down in your room and solved some easy math, wrote a few sentences about an animal that you liked (Mr. Krabs) and you were done.

You took the papers and wandered towards the lab to show your dad your work.

"What're you doing?"

You almost jumped out of your skin when Phil's voice suddenly sounded beside you.

You totally forgot that he was even there.

"I'm going to show dad my homework so I can help him!"

You held out the papers for him to see. Phil took them gently and looked over them with interest.

"This is all correct. Did you write about the Spongebob character?"

You chuckled and took your homework back.

"No! Mr. Krabs is my crayfish! Do you wanna see him? He's an old boy!" You lead the man to one of the lounge rooms off to the side where Krabs' big tank was housed. The tank had a lot of plants so it was sometimes hard to see him. You looked through the little plants and saw him in one of his big hides, only his head sticking out.

"Look there, that's Mr Krabs. He's already two years old! Crayfish don't live very long in tanks, but when they get treated nicely they can live for up to 8 years! That's older than I am!"

"Really? What do they eat?"

"Everything! That's why he doesn't have any fish friends, he'd just eat them."

"I don't think they eat everything."

"He does."

Phil chuckled but didn't argue further. You talked a little longer until you remembered what you wanted to do before and scarpered off towards the lab.

"Dad I'm done!" You shouted as you pushed the door open. Your dad was sitting in his comfortable chair reading through the books of his dad.

"Great! Show it!"

You handed over your homework and your dad let his eyes wander over it.

"Looks like it's all okay. Grab yourself a notebook and get to reading." He praised and pointed to the open case.

You did as told and sat down on your dads lap to read the smelly old book.

There were some really cool drawings in there, and some math you hadn't seen before. When you showed your dad he said it wasn't anything important. So you read and you read and you got bored. As seven year olds do when a task isn't fun anymore.

You put a piece of paper in the notebook and walked back over to the case.

You dug through it til you found something that looked interesting.

A little model airplane. Your dad said you could play with it so you did. Making loud noises and basically setting up a racetrack in the air.

Meanwhile your dad was back to digging through the case. Another handbook for the trash.

He only peaked your interest again when he put up what looked to you like a camera and put in one of those really long tape rolls you had only seen in TV.

"What're you doing?"

"Setting this up so we can watch what's on these films." He said as he put up some speakers.

"But it says it right here on the case," You said and grabbed the round casing, "these are outtakes! From a commercial? For Stark Expo!"

"Yes yes but we don't know what's said on them until we watch."

You shrugged in agreement and made yourself comfortable in your dads chair.

"Hey! Shoo. That's my seat." He chuckled and made a shooing motion with his hand.

You shook your head and crossed your arms in a teasing manner.

"Well, I guess I'm gonna have to sit on you now." He shrugged and turned around.

"Nooooooo." You said and pushed him away with your hands and feet laughing. You got off the chair and let your dad sit down just to plop yourself on his lap. Leaning into his chest as the clips started playing.

The man on the screen talked on about stark expo until he messed up, swore, and another clip started. He looked very weird in your opinion, not at all like your dad. So that was your grandpa. A person who swears a lot and has a really weird beard.

You settled further into your dads chest as you continued to be fixated on the screen. You had never taken a good look at the old pictures your dad kept. It hadn't interested you at all.

You knew he was dead so there was something entirely weird about seeing him so alive on screen talking about things that still exist today. While he doesn't. And while you knew what death was you couldn't yet grasp the concept of it entirely.

With these sort of existential questions you fell asleep snuggled against your dads chest facing the screen. It took Tony quite a while to notice you being asleep. Too concentrated on the books and screen to see you half snoring with your mouth squashed open and drooling out of the corner of your mouth.

Carefully he picked you up and brought you to bed without waking you at all.

After having delivered you to the bed he went straight back into the lab. Still continuing to search for.... well something.

Phil was on school bus duty as he put it. He was driving this really big black car with tinted windows. Your dad told him the name of your school and said goodbye to you.

A few minutes into the mostly silent car ride Phil started talking.

"So. How do you like school so far? You're in second grade, right?"

"It's okay. I like playing with my friends a lot. But the classes are boring. I already know all of the stuff they talk about."

"Really? Maybe you're a little too smart for second grade then? What are your grades like?"

"Good I think. But my dad says that grades don't actually show how smart someone is."

"That's true. But they're still important."

"For what? I'm only 7."

Phil fell silent. That was true. And so he quickly changed the topic until you were dropped off onto school grounds.

School, as always, was pretty boring. At least the classes were. Your friends and you had played hide and seek on break and in the second break you sat around and talked while eating your food. Mostly about videogames. Jason, who had sort of taken up the leader position really liked that topic. And so you stayed on it.

Your homeroom teacher gave you a note to give to your dad and with that the schoolday ended and you got into Phil's car again.

"How was school today?" He asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Like normal. Mrs. Foster gave me a note for dad."

"Really? What about?"

"I don't know." You shrugged not having read it at

You and Phil guessed what the teacher could've written on the letter all the way until you were home.

Walking into the house you immediately knew something was up as there was a big hole in the floor reaching through to the lab.

You walked down not knowing what to expect, leaving your bag near the hole and Phil to follow in a normal pace.

There definitely was something going on. As there were giant tubes taking up most of the space in the lab.

"What's this?" You asked excited at the thought of a new project.

"Welcome back. This will help us finish what your grandfather started." Tony said ominously but completed his statement soon after. "We're going to create a new element"

You were dumbfounded, you could do that? Just go out there and create a new element? The hell? You knew that people could discover new elements but create them? That's so cool.

Today was a day you decided that your dad was most definitely the coolest person on earth.

"That's so cool! You're the coolest, daddy!" you said and gave him a hug.

Just then Phil entered the lab.

"Can you hand me the spirit level?"

"Yeah!" you said, happily trotting over to the pile of tools laying next to and even under a box. The spirit level was right on top so you didn't have to pull or wedge it out of that mess. Handing your dad the spirit level he placed it on top of the tubes and sighed. Its uneven.

Just then Phil pulled out what looked like a Captain America shield prototype and asked what it was doing here.

"That is exactly what I need." Your dad took the shield and Phil lifted the coil so he could wedge the shield under it.

"Perfectly level. What do you want?"

Just then Phil told the news of his reassignment and your face fell. You liked Phil. Despite not knowing him all that well he was fun to be around. So when he turned to say goodbye to you you hugged him.

"Can you tell me what you were doing when we see each other again?" You asked jutting out your lower lip and drawing your eyebrows together.

"Sure thing sport. I'll send you a postcard." He smiled and with that you let go and let him leave with a wave.

The new element was created not long after Phil had left. It was a great spectacle to watch. The laser had left its mark on the wall and the element shone brightly as it was created.

Your dad took it for testing to the computer and plugged it in.

"This'll take a while do you have any idea what we could do while we wait?" he asked turning to you.

You had just the thing.

After several hours of intense playing with your dolls and action figures your father had to go to New York. Stark Expo and all of that. You would have really loved to go but he said no.

So you had your own little concert in the living room. Singing along loudly to all the songs Jarvis played for you. Pretending you were on a big stage being the best singer to ever live on your world tour.

"LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS! TO DEFEAT thE hunnns"

"This ain't a sCeENe it's a GOD. DAMN. ARMS-RACE"

and so on.

After your throat started to feel a bit sore you stopped and started doing whatever came to mind.

You had recently gotten a bow and technically you're not allowed to shoot it inside the house but who is going to catch you? Jarvis never told on you before and everyone who could be is in New York.

You placed some plastic bottles on a table which stood at the opposite side of the room and shot at them.

First without the force but you got frustrated when you didn't hit anything so you got help in aiming by your little powers and then just shot the arrows without the bow.

All was fun until the doorbell rung. Your stomach dropped. Everyone was in New York. So who was at the door..?

"Who's there Jarvis?" you basically whispered.

"It's a pizza delivery, Mr. Stark had told me to order you some food as he won't be back until late. There is money on the kitchen counter."

"Oh, okay!" you said and ran into the kitchen relieved that it wasn't a bad guy coming for you. You were pretty much out of breath when you reached the door, money in hand.

"Hello! Is this my pizza?" you asked right after having opened the door.

"Uh, yeah a Pepperoni one right?" The man looked a bit taken aback, obviously not having expected a child to Open the door in the kind of house you're in.

"Yes! Thank you!" you took the carton out of his hands after giving him the money.

"You can keep all of it. Have a nice day!" you said and basically slammed the door shut in his face.

You had just given him a hundred dollars for a maybe 15$ pizza. You probably made that guys day and didn't know it.

You ate the pizza and watched a Disney movie before Jarvis told you to go brush your teeth and go to bed. You ignored him and took a bath too. Spending most of your time playing in the water rather than actually cleaning yourself.

You fell asleep around 11 pm on your father's bed. And woke up the next day right next to him. And Pepper on your other side. Huh.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @tater-thotties @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild @actualcringetm

Have a fantastic day ;)

[ov105]

Pool Party

Wrote this to take my mind off the stress of semester’s end. I’ve been thinking about this after going to a pool since August. Since then I’ve gone through a million powerpoints, and created a billion more. It’s not easy being a social sciences student. And I’m here, writing 7,600 words paying attention to my horniness. Humans truly are an odd bunch.

7,644 words 

Enjoy.

"Oh yeah, Yujin's inviting you to her pool party later."

Ah, eighteen. The crossing of the Rubicon. Well, when you were seventeen, at least. I just nodded in reply, slipping out "yeah," to a friend while rolling through our textbook. Having forgotten to review the entire chapter, now I have only a thousand won note slipped on its opening page while rushing to reach the conclusions at the back of it. I probably just pushed everybody else's noise behind my head as I scanned the chapter before everything started. I barely memorized anything as I went and fell back to the classic tactic of letting keywords decide my answer. Everything else was a blur after that. The blue hues way above became darker, with the orange light breaking through the window panes as we all waited for 3:30 pm. Before that rang, Yujin came up to me, asking.

"Hey, what's your score?"

"22, you?"

"Higher," she replied, saying it with such proud conviction I almost shared it myself. I knew well I wouldn't score high, yet my brains made it in one piece. 

"Good job," Seeing that my little website referral made her life easier earlier. 

"Oh yeah, about later, who's coming along?" I asked, a bit puzzled. Perhaps trying to gain more comfort knowing that I may know everyone there, in any case, I get drunk. 

"Well, you know, the usual. You're the only other guy there, plus him," she replied, looking in the direction of a friend of ours. A credible crowd and a pool party, nothing can go wrong, right? It will. I was already betting that somebody would jump in the pool in their casual clothes, which was me at the last birthday party I attended. 

"Alright, tomorrow's Saturday anyway," I just said, with Yujin nodding in reply as she went back to her seat. I guess she did have a party planned after all. 

After that, the bell rang. The bug of getting home had bitten us as our class scrambled to get out, some briskly walking, and some going slow as they caught up with their friends. I had a few conversations about the more mundane things come Monday. I caught the metro on the way home as I saw other batchmates of ours try to crowd themselves into the bus and inevitably get stuck in traffic. It wasn't precisely as stark a difference trying to catch the train, though. Both were still close to jam-packed, even if it's been a year since every whitecoat advised us to stay at least a meter apart. I checked my phone as I clung on while the railcar rocked slightly at a hundred kilometers per hour. Being the fashion terrorist I am, I typed up "casual wear pool party" into the search box, trying to make sure I didn't look like I dressed up last minute, which was what I was going to do.

Coming home, I first jumped into my bed, having an hour or two before the sunset. Getting a good nap before I rolled out of bed, took a bath, and started to make a mess of my cabinet. If I had taken out the time I spent checking my phone, ten would've only been two minutes. The last thing I (or any guy) would do is always stand in front of the mirror, give ourselves a quick scan and pat down. Now is the year of birthday parties for people my age, all of us are turning 18, being in the 12th grade. It's pretty surreal we are to finish high school being seen as adults, but well, we already seem to think we act like one. 

Heading into the party, I took what probably was the same train there, though now with a lot fewer people that I could actually take a seat and maybe thought about things for a second as we went over the Han with a view of the 5 pm sunset going through the bridge's beams—matching my thoughts with the thunderous rolling sound of the rail over the girders. I guess now being invited and going alone to Yujin's birthday party wasn't exactly too different when she had her first blowout when she was seven. The last thing we would worry about is if we got our fractions right instead of filling in redundant pages of college application forms. 

Though I guess neither is a challenge for Yujin. Her energy never seems to fade. Such is Yudaeng. 

But now we were all much older, probably put some booze, and for others, cigarettes and vapes, into the mix, so might as well make the party last tomorrow. 

Now, Yujin and I were "equals," as our English tutor told us, that I was her and she was me. I guess it was because I did a lot of the heavy hauling in our more academic and reading-heavy classes. She was a somewhat faster runner and a more coordinated dancer than I was, though. The thing was that I could count more times we were classmates than we weren't, and while commonality wasn't something I would completely describe us, I was almost always her go-to "smart guy" to make sure she wasn't getting another F or D for that matter. Thankless, sure. But I don't complain. It gives me some purpose from time to time. My introspection ended itself as the PA announcement rang, and I had my cue. 

I was taking my time walking towards the party, now at some quieter neighborhood across the river, far out of where we lived. It wasn't shady or anything, but it was more subdued. Though I imagined nobody would want to go home later, I imagined what the place would look like at night. As I turned the corner and asked for directions, the lady I asked at the street pointed two floors up a faded white building. The pool was a part of the balcony above it, and what I assumed were the bedrooms below. I knew she was pretty rich, but not this rich, I thought to myself as I paced up the stairs, messaging her on my phone and slipping it in my short pocket.

Turning the final staircase, someone opened the door, and I looked up. It was Yujin, having swapped out the stuffy uniform for a more casual fit, shorts, and a tucked-in loose shirt, but nothing too extraordinary.

"You're a bit late, come on!" she beckoned me as I got up the stairs. I was greeted with a hug and saying another happy birthday as I returned it. It indeed was a chill atmosphere there. The same friend who told me about this was bent over the butane-flame grill trying not to mess the meat up. At the same time, her girlfriends were closer to the pool, an L-shape block of rooms behind it, the kitchen being right beside the staircase, with the pool and kitchen separated a bit by an open area where everybody was. It was comforting knowing every face. Taking a seat and was handed a cola before my neurons even linked to grab my phone and text home that I may just come home late.

Later, I stood up to be the 2nd man on the grill. The music wasn't too loud nor too obnoxious. I'd imagine none of the six of us wanted to confront an angry local breaking the party up. So that was it, two guys and four girls in their conversations as purple skies turned black. Yujin led the girls in laughter, being the fun and the hyperactive person she is. Meanwhile, I was just in banter with my mate while we waited for the meat to cook. We all kept it down a bit and just relaxed after midterms week, the test earlier being a last-minute addition.  

"You're almost done?" Yujin asked as she came up. 

"Almost, I mean, maybe?" I shrugged before reaching for chopsticks and offering it, "Wanna try?"

"Alright!" she replied with glee as she grabbed it from my hand. She was excited at the prospect of being the first one of us to eat, taking one of the middle pieces and eating it. She approved of it, and about fifteen minutes later, we began to stuff our faces full, maybe with some laughs and banter in between, but soon dying down as we got some more on our bowls, and later the banter came back again. It's been happening more and more now that we're getting back into things, getting used to how people talk and hearing them for who they are instead of conjuring voices that make me sleepless.

Later on, we all decided to take the beer out, though these were of the weak kind. Not that they tasted terrible, but much in the vein of would be called pisswater. Having that right malt taste, but otherwise, the only saving grace was that it was ice cold. I'd rather have an undermixed iced tea, but I digress. It was almost getting late. Ironically it must be the alcohol getting to me. After sitting down for about two hours, we all began to stand up and split up into our corners. 

The two girls went by themselves, talking as loudly as usual, then retreated to watch Netflix by themselves. Sliding doors shut, locked—two out. 

The lovebirds began the same way, and then a little frisky, then quite handsy. Then one of them just whispered into one another. I just sighed. I just hoped the rooms were soundproofed, taking another sip as their sliding door locked. 

I was then alone, taking out my phone and switching data on as I leaned back against the railing. 

"You wanna eat?"

"Again?"

"What else are we supposed to do?" Yujin said. To be fair to her, I wanted to ask the same thing. Maybe watching YouTube or sending memes to each other's phones would do. 

"There are leftovers, right?" I asked. Putting my leg down as I made the few steps to the kitchen, sliding the door open as Yujin went and probably got something for herself. Taking a seat as the microwave buzzed to life, I was a little surprised when she came back in. She had this smile on her face as if she had uncovered something. 

"Dang, you hear them?"

"What about it?"

"They're not having...sex? Right?" she said as she came close and pulled a seat beside me. Oh, you sweet summer puppy.

 "They are," I flatly replied, with a chuckle to voice both disbelief and surprise.

The microwave dinged after that, and as I put my fingers under a towel to open it, Yujin decided to test my remembrance of sex education at the worst time possible. She dropped the bomb on me as I put the noodles on the table. 

"How does it feel?"

"What do you mean by feel?" I said, air quotes as "feel" left my mouth. 

"How'd I know..," I replied, trailing off as my brain started to scramble and cover up the images of months past. I just sighed as Yujin waited on me. To think I was getting nervous being asked about my sex life by an analog nonetheless was just outrageous!

"Well, it feels good, I guess. Everybody's a little nervous at first." I replied, in hindsight, sounding more like a confession. Yujin just sounded wowed. For some reason, perhaps hearing it from a friend does sound different. 

"Good? What do you mean by good?" She prodded further, flashing a shy smile as if to trap me.

"Alright, I'm not a writer for nothing," I began, "You know that feeling when almost every hair on your body is raised, not because you're scared, but between it. The point of being nervous, but it feels so damn good. Your brain just gets caught up between feeling that and going instinctively that it, pretty much, freezes."

Her playfulness, having rolled over into curiosity, was only natural. And the honeytrap of asking about my budding sex life had hooked me by that point. Now I had little choice but to continue, though, in my defense, I asked. 

"Why are you even asking me this? I'm the worst guy you could ask," I calmly replied, though slightly defensive in my tone.

"What?" she replied, quite ridiculing me, "Haven't had a classmate ask you?" 

"The guys, yeah, but the girls? No." 

Yujin nodded, then left me hanging, scratching her nose as she looked down on her phone. She was thinking about something. Reaching for the chopsticks and pulling the noodles to me, not long after, I took my first slurp of it. She leaned back in, placed her hand on my thigh, looking quite shyly at me, she asked. 

"You want to join me in our room?"

What was, at our age, an odd request, something only someone more scared of the dark, or just feeling lonely, would ask. I was betting my choices, but if I knew anything, I immediately lit up my alarms. Questioning Yujin was not the course to be taken. 

"Sure."

Tapping my thigh to signal that she wanted me to come with her now, I put my food away and just laid my chopsticks on it. The pantry became quiet just as quickly as we left it. Trailing behind Yujin as she walked off to our room, it didn't feel too awkward. Looking around a bit, I thought I heard one of our friends moan again; it kicked back to a flashback to my first time myself. 

Mine was similar to tonight, but it was a far stranger companion, one of my cousin's friends. She wasn't much older than I was, but not far off. Yet anything I experienced as she toyed with me with her lips, hips, and just how she used her body against mine that night will always stick to me. I would admit my endurance was miserable at best. Whatever, I had sex anyway. I got sent to Hong Kong that one night and back. This was just my second time tonight, I was taking the lead, and I was nothing more than a jungle of nerves. 

The sound of lightly screeching metal and a lock turning split us from the rest of the world now. Our shoes remained outside, some of the lights were on, and the aircon was just winding up. Those were a giveaway that perhaps maybe, something was up. I turned around and pulled the thick curtains over the blinds, facing about to see Yujin standing there. Approaching her as the statuesque woman she was, we were equals, after all. Putting her hands on my chest and scaling up, her neck craning forward as if to kiss me, but I wasn't just about to get on with that. Moving back a bit, she stopped. 

"Save it for someone you like," I told her, though I needed to say something quick not to kill her spirits. 

"But, can I kiss you on your neck?" with Yujin softly lifting her chin as she allowed me. I went just right below her jaw with a few soft yet admittedly dry kisses. Moving down and having just put my lips, Yujin giggled, probably tickled as she slightly pushed on my chest. 

"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling back a bit. 

"Nothing, just getting a little tickled," she replied and so proved me correct. 

I told her to sit on me to save us the awkwardness of keeping standing against each other. I assured her that I wouldn't do anything "stupid" as she put me between her legs. She put her weight on me as she sat on my lap, both of us completely awkward. Though before I could put my hands on her hips to pull her close, she reached down for her shirt, pulled it up, and took it off. 

Now Yujin's body was normal, at least if being as tall as isn't accounted for. But now that the only thing keeping me away is a mere few inches of air and pinned down on this bed. It was a sight to behold from the well-matured woman she was. The way her thighs, built on the same bones that made her stand tall, stocky but toned, to hips that, while broad enough, were made discreet with a torso that matched it. It was an unreal, daringly perfect physique. She looked back at me as I gave her a look, though I was just trying to trace where my lips would go. She was just about to reach behind for her bra, so I stopped her. 

"Not yet."

I said before moving back onto her neck, trying to remember everything I was told months back as I trailed downward, my kisses on her skin far deeper and more playful. I wasn't there to tickle her. A quick diversion over her collarbone before marking my checkpoint at her mole, just as I gave it a second kiss, I heard a faint, shaky moan. So there it was. Pulling her slightly closer as I gave it a deeper kiss, and I listened to her breath get shaky. 

As I moved down, I could feel Yujin just watching me. Perhaps we were thinking the same thing as I came right down, leaning and pushing her forward, my lips just above her cleavage. How the hell did we get here? But before I could rationalize an answer to that, her hand clasped on my wrist and placed it close to her right tit. I took her cue as I wrapped it in my fingers and squeezed. She remained silent throughout, still shy and holding her moans in, but I felt her getting warmer as my lips and hands softened the awkward mess we were now. Thinking that it would only get more uncomfortable if I kept leaning forward, it was time to get more serious. 

"Lie down," I whispered to her as I sat straight. I moved aside and stood up to let Yujin get on the bed. By the time I had turned back around, she, too, was facing me. Trying to copy a sex scene I've seen in my head, I took a few steps forward, got into bed with her, and had my lips right back on her neck. Though we just crashed on the mattress but luckily didn't slam right into her. The tension broke as we laughed at the face of erotic disaster. Nope, that was no reenactment. 

 Continuing as my left hand now reached up to her left tit, softly squeezing and rubbing it as I continued kissing down her body. I puckered my lips and sucked on the soft flesh of her tits before kissing down her tummy, as far down as my lips took me right before her shorts. I was done. 

The only thing missing now was that Yujin wasn't naked. 

"You're okay taking everything off?" I asked. She just nodded in reply. Taking that, I went back in, now with both my lips and tongue doing the work as I have heard again and again; keep up with the foreplay. My hand was instead trying to get behind her, feeling my fingers poking her sides. She lifted her back up and let my hands slide in. It was a little awkward as I tried to unhook her bra, getting after a few seconds or so then hovered above her. Yujin moved her shoulders and slid her straps off but kept her forearms close to her chest. I had a long way to go. 

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I don't know. I've never done this before," Yujin shyly replied, rubbing her forearms. Well, I was too. I was just in the same position a while ago. And well, I had little else to say. 

"Hey, I don't know this either," I told her. She just lightly scoffed at me.

"I don't know, my ass, I'm not almost topless for nothing," she replied, and with me between her legs and my arms already straining as I hovered above her. She was anything but wrong. I was a neuron away from telling her we should just back off, but Yujin beat me to it. Putting her forearms away, she slipped a finger into her bra and swung it to nowhere as I remained fixed on her.

They hung free, a perky pair of tits with well-colored areolas. My face immediately went for them as I wrapped my tongue around Yujin's nipples and tugged at them as I began to suck, my lips puckering right against her areolas. As if to respond to my tugging, Yujin slightly lifted upward. As I flicked on her nipple, she moaned. Then I slipped my free hand between her legs, pressing down hard on the fabric of her shorts as if to knock on her. After all, It was only two layers beneath. And to only drive my libido even higher, my fingertips only feel her warmth.

Then I began drawing circles with my fingers, and she cried out and squealed. It was a more sensual, not erotic release as she writhed, biting her lip but still moaning loudly. With my mouth clamped shut on her left tit and fingers bearing right against her pussy, she didn't want to push me away. But just like I was, I could do nothing in the face of pleasure. Just right after, I moved to her right tit and kept a good eye on her. Yujin's hands moved under me and unbuttoned her shorts, but before she could hold the hem of it, I softly squeezed her forearm to tell her that I'd do it. 

Giving one last suckle on Yujin's tits and a few kisses on her stomach later. My fingers found themselves hooked between her shorts and panties as I pulled them back, her legs straightening to get them off cleanly. As the final piece of clothing dropped on the edge of the bed, I dove low and between Yujin's now bare legs. In the first place, she didn't precisely close them. As I parked right in front of her pussy, it looked a little shy of a few weeks of shaving. Being as gullible as I am under nerves, I asked.

"This isn't your first time being eaten out, right?" She's had a boyfriend before, so I expected a nod. However, Yujin shook her head. 

"I see it in porn a lot. I tried rubbing myself a few times, felt something, but never really came," she dejectedly stated. That didn't seem too believable, but alright, now I had something to do.

"You ready?" I then asked.

She just nodded, and down I went. 

As I gave her the first lick, I remembered that eating Yujin out wasn't on my mental schedule, nor ever on my fantasies since I had hit puberty. After all, she was only a good friend. Now was a little more than that. And I've only seen the stuff I'm doing now in adult videos. Though if there was anything different from the way I was licking upward and drawing circles around her clit, it was that she sounded far quieter, more bearable, and gladly, more regular and human than the actors I'd seen. On the other hand, the sight of her friend eating her out had us forced to be a lot less sensible and just be simply horny. 

Tracing around her folds as Yujin continued to moan. But because it was her first time to be touched like this, she might as well have gone insane. She bit hard on her lips as I continued eating her out, beginning to taste salt not long after as she writhed ever so slightly. I thought of fingering her, but at the moment, I thought I'd rather save penetration for my penis instead. For now, my hands held her and traveled upward to keep squeezing on her tits as I put my tongue against her pussy. Now I put my all into it as I pressed my tongue against her clit, but I continued to trace her folds with the tip of it.

Her hips moved, jerking right up against me and inadvertently driving me deeper against her clit. It didn't help that her smaller jerks pushed her hips against me while my tongue did the same. It only multiplied the friction for herself. She just moaned and whimpered as she began to leak. That's one way to hasten your first non-solo orgasm. 

Licking past the fluids the Yujin was secreting, she was getting more vocal and pronounced in her movements. Her thighs began to close in on my ears as she rumbled back and forth on the mattress. Not to mention the drippings I had to wipe off my lips ever so often as she let her body speak for itself. My tongue is the suspect of it all.

In a matter of a few seconds, she was hitting an almost uncontrollable fever pitch. Her eyes shut, her mouth hung open, the release of her lustful moans filling the air as her torso waved and her hips and I struggled to keep her from completely flying away. It was only delaying the inevitable. 

"-fuck," Yujin weakly said, biting her lip but immediately letting out a moan that only told the obvious.

Continuing my assault on her senses, I rounded her clit faster. Yujin had slipped into orgasm, her moans drawn out and erotic, her entire physique rocking the bed as my deeds paid themselves off. Calling my name out as her legs folded back and her feet, much like her hands, scrambled to hold on to something as her toes curled, with fingers grabbing my hair and the sheets. Her thighs were just about to crush my head as her hand suddenly grabbed on my hair and hung on to me for her dear life. Arching and throwing her head back as her juices leaked as she shook herself loose. She just sighed as her orgasm passed. Plopping down on the bed as she finished, having had her few seconds of high heaven as her chest pumped itself of air, her body had turned into jelly from a powerful release. 

I slowly pulled myself back to watch the orgasmic mess that was Yujin. After wiping my lips clean of her, I asked.

"How's that?"

"Fucking amazing."

She was breathless, hands moving around her face as if she couldn't believe what had just happened. I just let her be. I was just as tired with my tongue. That's it. I just made a friend cum probably a little too hard on my second sexual encounter. 

"Well, what do you want to do next?" I said. Now fully taking up my role as the guide.

"Blowjob?" Yujin said. Her lips were moistened from her lip biting earlier. Our gazes met to tell me that she was eager to try me for herself. But unlike eating pussy, I knew what I wanted with a blowjob. I just beckoned to her to come over as I unbuttoned my shorts. The only thing she had to do was pull it down. I just waited as she rolled off the bed and then stood right in front of me. 

A naked, glowing Yujin was an image that left me without words; what a woman. 

Kneeling and taking my shorts with her, the sight and touch of her hands wrapping my penis sent a slight shot of electricity up my body. It's been a while since it wasn't me touching myself or touched at all. Held it as she began to stroke, or at least try stroking it. Telling her that it'd be better to sit, and I did. Yujin seemed like she knew what to do. 

She took a shy lick on the tip, tugging it upward as she tried copying whoever actress she'd seen. Though once her lips wrapped around my glans, I was split whether I was feeling pleasure or pressure to tell her to get it right. For a moment, I thought she had it under control as I felt my tip getting wetter but was dashed the moment my shaft was uncomfortably squeezed, and I shrieked.

"Don't squeeze it too hard. Just keep stroking, and be gentle," I told Yujin, and before I was even done, she was already getting the hang of it. Keeping her gaze at me as I approved of her, and then I appreciated how soft her hands were. It was better than any fleshlight I threw money at or any fully erotic masturbation fantasy I would dream up at 2 am. All Yujin had to do was keep doing what she had to do, and I was trying to get used to her giving me pleasure as I slowly got erect, my butt slightly clenching as she went. 

"Do I spit on this?" she asked not long after, having begun to feel like some assisted handjob rather than anything. My cock was already hard enough, but that looked a little too lewd for my taste, so I decided to take it even further.

"Slowly wrap your lips around it," I told her instead. I coached her as she leaned forward. Kissing the tip of my cock before pushing herself forward, her lips parting around my tip and tongue sliding under it. It looked a little awkward at first as she kept waiting on me. I just told her to start. Though I left "start" on a vague note, Yujin began to bob up and down slowly. And with her tongue placed right under my supposed sensitive spot, I suddenly twitched inside her mouth. She just giggled and stopped before continuing, and now she knew where to hit. 

There wasn't much to be done after that. Yujin just softly bobbed her head with my cock on her mouth. Beginning to suck as she got a little deeper, yet I kept telling her to do it as far she felt comfortable. Comfortable, however, rhymes with daring in Yujin's mind, going deeper and pressing her tongue against my cock as she did. After trying to control myself and not react quickly to the way she slid and wrapped me. I couldn't hold it anymore and let out a moan. I sat back as I felt my world shaking under a virgin's mouth. 

That only told her to go faster, maybe a little too fast. She didn't know she was bringing me into an orgasm I didn't want. 

"Don't you want to save me for later?" I quipped as I laid my hand on Yujin's shoulders. She took me out of her mouth, and after wiping her lips, replied. 

"Oh, sorry, I was almost carried away," and after taking a look at my slobbered member, asked, "That felt pretty good, didn't it?" 

I just scoffed and nodded. Yujin smirked and got a bit bashful. To be fair, it isn't the norm to compliment anyone for giving amazing blowjobs the very first try. 

"You have a condom, right?" she then asked me. I just pointed to my pocket. A little bit of rummaging in the slots, she pulled out the sachet and tore it twice. Had she bit down a bit harder, the whole plastic would've been ripped, and we'd have to walk the wire. Giving my cock one last lick of her tongue for, in her words, "insurance."

"This feels so weird," Yujin said as she slowly rolled it down my cock, "Do you even feel anything under this?" she asked. I just shrugged. 

She paused as my cock stood, covered, ready to penetrate her. Haywire, that's what our minds were. I'm going to have sex with Ahn Yujin, and she's going to let me into her. My thought process was just scrambling and going code red as she led me to the bed. I reached for the switches and left only the bed lights, bathing us in a golden shower of light, looking to the side to see our shadow, man atop woman. As I planted my knees, she opened her legs and pulled me towards her. Both of us looked down as I brought my cock closer. 

It was so quiet we could hear each other breathe. The silence only broke as Yujin gave me a warning.

"Be careful." 

I just nodded, oddly solemn, like I was going down to a dark basement and had to run back without my candle going out. After all, Yujin asked me to penetrate her now; there's no more excellent comparison to being led into the dark. 

I placed the tip of my cock against her folds. It was a warm, slippery opening, folds parting, and I pushed inside in an instant, barely able to feel anything. Yujin whimpered, and I pulled back. She nodded as I gave her a look. I felt the plastic on my tip get moist as I pushed myself against and back inside her. Inch by inch, I broke into her, feeling the choking, mind-numbing warmth and pleasure that I couldn't help but let out a moan as I stopped. 

"You alright?" I asked. 

"Just keep going," Yujin ordered me. Moving slowly enough but not from inserting my entire shaft and probably undoing everything. She also began to moan as soon as I did, though pained as her walls were parted. I kept it to that pace, trying to control myself from going ultimately ape as I let her become comfortable. As she did, I bent down and let that paceMy hips had a mind of their own while her hands moved from around me, coming right to my shoulders and pulling me close. My face was right against her shoulder, hiding my lip bite, as our brains were barely struggling to keep up with our sensuality. 

There was nothing more but the sound of sex after that. Yujin's moans slowly converted from pain into pleasure. She loosened up from under me and got wetter as I slowly continued. Even if I had plastic over my cock she was just so wet I could feel her through it. Her hands slid down as if to tell me to go deeper, and not long after, I was moaning too. Having had to close my eyes to take it all in. 

"Ah, fuck, that feels so good," Yujin said, biting her lip as I thrust into her. She was getting the hang of it. She looked at me and probably expected a reply as she could read the pleasure on my face. I just had to conjure something.

I just smiled and thrust deep as I could. Yujin broke her gaze, moaned, and threw her head back. I kissed her on the neck as she presented it. Coupling that with deep thrusts had her shaking right under me, pulling, sucking me closer into her. I wish she gave a warning next time; that felt too fucking good. Then I thought of something, thinking I only had a minute left in me. Giving her neck one last kiss, I straightened my back and put my weight on my legs, looking down to see my member thrusting in and out of her. For a second, I thought I saw a smidge of blood on the condom, so she wasn't lying after all. However, we were past that now as her body and face shifted, mired and tangled in the welcoming, intoxicating embrace of sex. 

"You wanna switch?" I whispered, just nodded, and I pulled out. 

Yujin slipped a finger between her legs to see how wet she'd become. Rubbing her fingers as she was, for lack of a better word, shocked by her sticky fluids. 

"I guess this is why it feels good, huh?"  

"Yep, we have to keep going so it'd feel better, come on," I told her as she turned around and bent over. For a moment, I remembered how she always made most jeans look skinny, even when they weren't meant to be. That ass right before me is why. I caressed and felt it for how thick it was while Yujin grabbed a pillow, then discarding it as I coached her into the "perfect" position.

Hands firm on the bed, back slightly bent down, and legs comfortably wide apart, I lined up into Yujin. With her pussy giving itself away, I pushed myself back inside. I wasn't one to wait as I did, grabbing her hips as she gasped and began and thrusting slightly faster than earlier. I was more confident that I wouldn't bust. Though that was quickly disproved when I felt a single twitch shoot up electricity and feel my fingers digging into her skin, and like an idiot, thrust and twitched again, now moaning in unison with her. 

Yujin turned to look at me as I slowly settled into a rhythm. Both of us gave mischievous looks as I kept fucking her, having to turn away and moan into a pillow as she got used to the sensation. The thing is, even when she was loose, she never lost her tightness. She was painfully tight but kept me coming back for more. The perfect ounce of flesh enrapturing me yet barely keeping me from losing myself. I felt like I couldn't go any faster without cumming myself, but I wanted her to feel good. And from the from the moaning, shaking, moaning, dripping mess that I was penetrating. I have more than succeeded.

Plopping face-down on the bed, hands clinging onto the sheets to it as her body pistoned against me. Yujin must've just kept her eyes on me the entire time, just watching and, when she wasn't, feeling me inside her. Though whenever our eyes met, she was smiling or smirking at me oddly, like I was some maniac. She spoke up not long after.

"You're having quite a time, aren't you?"

"Because I'm fucking you," I managed to say between breaths. Around five more thrusts later. I stopped, tugged on Yujin's arm, and told her to come up to me. Yujin processed it for around five seconds before I got a better word, "put your back up to me," and she did. I was just trying to follow something I vaguely remember. Once she did, I slipped my arms up against her tits and pulled her close to me. Her hands then unexpectedly found themselves on my neck and wrist as I began to thrust again. It was a lot more awkward without any kissing, but she held on still. 

Now we didn't just feel each other. Now we could hear every last sound of ourselves. A carnal chorus; Though like every other one, never lasts enough to leave one fully satisfied.

I lasted just shy of half a minute before our hands got tired, and the position got a little harder to maintain by the millisecond. I stopped when I couldn't go anymore. And amidst huffing breaths, I asked. 

"You wanna ride me?" I asked. Yujin, also catching her breath, nodded. I pulled out of her and sat back. Not only was there a sheen of her fluids on my cock, but a faint sheen of sweat on my forehead, wiping it with my wrist as I lay down. I was spent by that point.

Yujin then straddled me, with the light illuminating the inside of her thigh, which was dripping wet as it got closer to her crotch. She didn't need to be told as her palm put itself just below my tummy, the other hand guiding my cock towards her. As she put me back inside, her eyes went wide, then shut and exhaled, moaning as she sat down and filled herself with my entire cock—something I hadn't done. My breath shook in unison, and fingers fumbled to hold on to something as she began to move on top of me. 

"We should've done this earlier," she said, beginning to bounce on me sloppily. Arms to the side, giving me the freedom to put my hand on her hips and the other to squeeze her tits. She was moaning far louder now, but I couldn't blame her as I was stifling myself too. My cock was just sliding perfectly against her, and she had some magic that was slowly making me lose it.

We were watching one another as she continued to fuck me, her hand sliding through her hair as it began to mess itself up. There was a problem as Yujin was going too fast for me, finding myself far more challenging to control. I told her to slow down as I sat up, with her surprised a bit as her hands wrapped around my shoulders. At that moment, I twitched inside her. It was soon game over for me. 

"Did you cum?" Yujin asked. 

"Soon," I replied. Now it was a question of whether or not Yujin would cum again, but I knew I was due soon. Feeling that tightening pit in my lower regions that were only subject to a single flick to spill. 

"Just go slower, let's not fuck this up," I told her as I dove down, her leaning back so I could get to her nipples. As she began to roll her hips again, I was far more aggressive with my tongue on her nipple, bringing up and squeezing her tit with my hand and hoping I could last long enough. That was despite already outlasting my earlier guesses. It was ironic that I didn't want her to fuck it up but keep fucking me still.

Quickly changing tactics as I put her up straight again, now just kissing Yujin's neck as she rolled her hips slowly against mine. Knowing my ear was just next to her, I could hear her whisper one thing as she discreetly, then dramatically. While her entirety, her soul shook, she whispered; I think I'm cumming. 

I held her closer and kissed her neck deeper as she wrapped her hand around my nape, tugged me closer, and sang me her sensual swansong. Just when we thought we had control over our young bodies. I pulled away a bit and filled my lungs with air as I was soon to empty myself. It was just enough to glimpse Yujin's face as she looked down and brushed her hair. She gave me that shy look as if she felt bad that I was under her mercy. I took my chances and went for her neck. Just resuming the same thing we had done a moment ago, 

The way Yujin and I slowly slipped away and was just driving her hips and pressing her chest against mine on the mere instinct of a creeping orgasm, knowing I was to go down with her. Her walls tightened as her movements became more pronounced. I swore I could feel juices dripping down my balls as she used me to reach cloud nine again. Even I let out a moan as we both shook, slowly unraveling myself as she reached her peak. 

After an unintelligible whisper, Yujin's body froze, and her fingers dug into me, her jaw probably unhinged itself as she let out a moan that was all pleasure, relief, and a tinge of pain at once. As she did, I followed too. Shutting my eyes, seeing white as I got seared in her heat, jaw silently dropping as the proper shocks shot down into my cock. Shaking and almost biting into her neck as I stiffened and twitched violently, squeezing her tits as I shot thick spurt after spurt of sperm into the condom as she rode against it, giving me, until that point, the hardest orgasm of my life. She was pulsating a bit as she came down from her orgasm, only forcing every last drop out of me. It was a short moment, not more than a minute, as neither she nor I were there. Both of us ended up shocked, revived, exasperated, and exhausted at once. 

We were just in an embrace after the fact. Perched on each other's shoulders as we huffed and puffed. Speechless. I couldn't feel much of my lower regions as our libido withered away. Of course, as a result of our shared orgasm, that'd make nuclear fission blush. I wouldn't expect a second go at it. 

Neither of us made a peep as Yujin got off me. Her juices trickled off her the moment she pulled herself out. That was when we broke. She was genuinely shocked she could've gotten that wet, even more so with the filled condom that it left behind. I knew I shot a lot, but not by that much. I volunteered to take it off myself as I moved to the edge of the bed, pulling it off in a wet snap. The blood I thought I'd seen earlier was almost overrun with the rest of her juices. 

"Damn, I'm gonna remember the last ten minutes for a long time," I told her as I held it up. Yujin became bashful as she couldn't think; during her first time, she'd fuck the guy probably a bit too hard. It was more erotic for me. 

Being the humans we were, and knowing Yujin and I both cleaned and dressed up, and left the room to get food. We just decided to change the bedsheets after we'd eaten, as it was stained with us. As I turned to lock on the sliding door, I just remembered that we were supposed to eat, but instead, we had sex—what a night. 

"That wasn't too painful, wasn't it?" I asked Yujin as I came alongside her. She just shook her head and turned to look at me, shyly smiling.

"I'd rather have you do it again," she answered. 

[jedifarmerr]

When Javier Met....(Series)

Chapter 9: Laredo

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n & no physical description)

Chapter Rating: E!!!! (18+ blog)

Word Count: 8.7k (This is the longest chapter I've ever written, so I think it makes up for how long it took me haha)

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Mentions of Parental Loss, Pining, Sexual Situations, Sexual Thoughts & Smut.

“Hey…hey…wake up,” Javier’s lowly voice slipped through your dozed state.

The summer sun bled through the bug-stained windshield, it’s golden heat bubbling against your skin.

Slow and resistant, you blinked awake from the impromptu nap to find the scenery changed from highway towns stuck in the Wild Wild West era to industrial yards.

“How long till we’re there?” You asked - groggy - kneading the area between your neck and shoulder. Why does sleeping in a car have to be so uncomfortable?

Javier tapped on the steering wheel, checking the dash and the road marker before answering. “About - 15 minutes or so.”

“What?” You startled upwards, fumbling around to grab the travel-size makeup bag from the backpack at your feet while simultaneously flipping down the visor. Popping your head up, you winced seeing the tiny reflection - totally disheveled and topped off by crusted drool strings.

It horrified you to imagine the what if of him not waking you up; Chucho’s first impression of you squashed against glass with a ring of fog around a wide open mouth.

Giving a quick tousle to your hair and scrubbing the dry dollops away, your focus shifted to your wilted-looking eyes. With quick circles, you attempted to restore them back to life but to no avail. You pulled the mascara from the bag and pumped the wand along the tube, completely banking on a coat or two to work some magic.

“Are you tryin’ to impress, Pops?” Javier smirked, watching your slack jaw focus as you wiggled the wand up and blinked.

“What can I say?” You said - throaty and mumbled. “He is a cutie.”

“Better not tell him that. He’ll get cocky.”

You scoffed. After a repeat on the other eye and a smidge of tinted lip balm, you thumped the visor back into place.

Johnny Cash’s syrupy voice fit the aesthetic of the scenery, cattle grazing along the straw grass. Hawks perched on the fence posts. It was probably peaceful. Serene.

But you felt nothing of the sort.

Your jackhammering heart, the rushing of blood drowned out all sights and sounds until all your focus centered on the looming question.

What exactly did this trip mean for your relationship?

Anyone else, and you’d never give it a second thought. But Javier? No. All week, you spent contemplating, gnawing at the bit. You tried to tell yourself he was just being a good friend, but something about the explanation fell short. There had to be more, right? Or maybe you were just projecting, making this into something more than it was.

“Well, here we are,” Javier said as he turned onto a copper dirt road marked by a lone mailbox with Peña decalled on the side.

The tires crunched along the path lined by cedar elms and a worn-down wooden fence, a red-brick modest ranch, well-cared for, sitting at the end. Lush emerald shrubs, petunias bursting in an array of bright pinks and oranges framed the front steps that led to the stark white front door.

You peered over to observe his reaction, his lips curling into a sentimental smile, shoulders loosening as he warmly looked upon the home of carefree days. He appeared younger in the moment, lighter.

The sheer cream curtains of the front bow window swayed, an older gentleman with a thick mustache and an oversized pearly cowboy hat - Chucho - whistled as if it was happenstance that he wandered out onto the skinny front porch at the same time you arrived. His eyes blew wide with the act, an O turning into an infectious smile as he gripped his hips in a stance that mirrored his son’s.

Before exiting the car, you checked over your shoulder one last time; Javier nodded, reassuring you with a smile.

“Hey, Pops,” Javier yelled over the slam of the door. His voice sweet and silvery, a tone reserved for only his father. “Stay where you are, I got it,” he added before Chucho could shuffle over to help with the bags. Popping the trunk, he introduced the two of you, a formal meeting that beat out the technical one on the phone.

“Hi, there,” you said with a charming smile that covered your nerves. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Chucho looked you up and down, but not to analyze, more to take in. It seemed that Javier didn’t just inherit the round shape and dark brown color of his eyes from his father, but the emotive quality. The twinkle in Chucho’s gaze expressed his appreciation, his happiness for your presence here, more than any words could express.

“Well, you just gonna stand there?” Chucho’s warmly teased at your frozen state a foot away from the car.

The trunk slammed, and Chucho waved you over. “After you,” Javier said, adjusting with one hand the strap on his shoulder, as the other gripped the handle of your bag.

Chucho opened the creaky storm door that led to a new threshold; a tile entryway that carried a distinct homey scent - one that still lingered on a handful of Javier’s items - and a family portrait of the Peña’s on the front wall, coordinated in navy and burgundy tones that complimented the solid mauve background.

The picture had to be taken when Javier was approaching puberty, his head resembled an overfilled balloon on his lanky body, the striped collared long-sleeve wasn’t helping the matter. It was nice to know that even someone like Javier suffered an awkward stage, even if it only lasted a few months.

A twinge of sadness settled in your chest when your attention drifted to the warm and wide smile of his mother, the sharp bridge of her nose and tall lean stature, the features that provided a daily reminder of her when he looked in the mirror.

“So, how was the drive?” Chucho asked as he led you out of the cramped space and around the corner into the main living area.

“It wasn’t bad at all,” you chirped back.

“Easy for you to say, you slept the past two hours,” Javier huffed from the rear.

“Exactly,” you said over your shoulder innocently, “It wasn’t bad.”

Chucho warmly chuckled, he plopped himself down in the recliner and then swiveled to face you.

“Well, is there any chance you kids are gettin’ hungry?”

“Pops,” Javier looked down at his watch as he fiddled with the strap digging into his shoulder, “It’s only 5:30.”

“And? You’re father’s getting old, Javi. It’s my dinner time.”

“Well, I guess I’m gettin’ old too,” you added. “I’m starving.” Chucho shimmied into his chair, boasting in the tie breaker with a sly smile at his son. Javier sighed in defeat, knowing this was his life for the next couple days.

“Fineee. Let’s set this down, then we’ll figure out where we wanna go.” Javi turned on the balls of his feet, with his back turned you threw Chucho a wink that made him stifle a giggle before following him down the narrow hall scattered with pictures of the family. Their wedding day. A very angry looking baby. And a picture of them at Javi’s high school graduation.

The first of three doors on the left wall was the guest room, Javier set down your over-packed bag as you quickly glanced around. A queen sized bed was situated between golden oak night stands. Each with a table lamp, their shades matching the burgundy comforter. Rounding out the room was a mirror in the corner and a small dresser in the same stain that sat underneath the window. Following his lead, he showed you the bathroom that separated your room from his, which just so happened to be the last stop.

It was simple. A desk, dresser, and queen size bed crafted in hickory oak filled the space. The walls were pale blue and marked from ripped down posters and taken down photos. All that seemed to remain of his childhood bedroom was the cluttered built-in shelves above his desk.

Upon closer examination, you realized they were filled with baseball trophies, shiny ribbons hanging from the edge, and you thumbed the blue and green satin. “First prize in the science fair? First place in the Southern Texas Spelling Bee? Are you serious?”

“What can I say?” He leaned against the door frame, “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Or a dork,” you retorted at his cocky attitude with a tiny laugh.

He smacked his jaw at the quip, and offered no response. Too entranced by the way you moved around his room. “Whaddaya think?” He finally asked, “Everything you imagined?”

Realizing you were gawking at the room as if it was a display at a museum, you immediately stopped and turned to him.

“Bold move to assume I spent my nights imagining this,” you twirled your finger around the room, leaving the question unanswered as you walked towards. “Now come on, we can’t leave pops waiting.” You drummed the center of his chest as you slinked into the hallway.

---

After a quick dinner at Javier’s favorite restaurant - a quaint Mexican place at the edge of town - Chucho took what he considered to be a small detour on the way home, as he put it, just a few stops to show off Laredo.

By Laredo, he meant Javier’s life, and the first stop was his elementary school. Pointing to the front steps, Chucho told you all about a little boy in striped overalls and a fresh bowl cut, bawling his eyes out on the first day of kindergarten.

The next location was a park at the center of town, the red windy slide - now a safety hazard - that Javier ruined his whole summer on by jumping off the top and breaking his arm.

Every location in between had a story. The ice cream shop he frequented in the summers, spending hours under the red and white striped umbrellas with John, trying to pick up girls. A theatre where his parents took him to see his first movie - 101 Dalmatians. Even the location of Javier’s first job - a busser at a chain restaurant.

Rounding out the tour was the baseball field, Chucho proudly pointed at the dusty plate, the exact place where he hit his first home run.

By the time Chucho arrived at the lamp-lit ranch, the cicadas were in full song. Javier needed a shower, but he felt somewhat reluctant to leave the two of you alone. Both mischievously smiling and all too eager - but he didn’t have much choice as you shoved him into the bathroom.

Each time he heard your laughter drift through the steamy water, he thought about all the photos his father prepared for the visit. Definitely a couple of classics, like cheesin’ in a bubble bath and t-ball days. Those weren’t his main concern, the embarrassing ones you’d never let go were, for instance the time he was the donkey in the nativity play at church and when he and John dressed as James Bond, equipped with finger guns.

Remembering a few others, he turned off the water and rushed a towel through his damp hair, stepping into a pair of loose sweats before tugging on a plain t-shirt. Your snickering filled the hall, he peeked around the corner to glimpse at what awaited him.

Sitting on the couch, engrossed in the album placed in the middle, Javier stared at your matching grins, the picture of happiness right in front of him. It dawned on him that Chucho finally had someone to tell all the stories about Javier, never having the opportunity to do so with a stranger that cared deeply for him, that drank in every detail like it was water in a desert.

A salty taste began to well in his throat as he secretly watched, thinking back to the times his father daydreamed about a bigger family, long ago when Javier’s plans still involved Lorraine. The grandchildren he imagined running in the same fields Javi once did, the holidays and get-togethers spent with more than just two.

Once again, the world offered him a glimpse of what could have been and just like before an ache settled inside him. He wasn’t sure if he could fill Chucho’s wallet with grandchildren. But for a fleeting moment, a scary second, he wondered if he could fill a picture frame with a bride and groom.

Just then you looked up to see him. “Javi,” you beamed, “Get over here,” you patted the seat next to you. With no resistance, he settled beside you, his father shooting him an approving glance.

“Oh. My. God,” your head dropped back in laughter as you pointed to his prom picture. Taken right on the steps, in a powder blue suit with thick black lapels and a massive bow tie, his arm swung around Lorraine’s waist with a feeling himself smile.

Chucho sounded like a bad engine as he held the laughter in his throat.

“Okay, Pops. Really?”

“What?” He feigned innocence, “I think it’s a good picture.”

Javier shook his head. He mentally prepared himself for a long night of laughter, all at his expense.

---

The next day, he awoke from the intruding light that slipped through a crack in between the curtains. Judging by the tone, he knew Chucho was awake and preparing a big breakfast. The thought of pancakes and coffee made his stomach grumble, his feet moving towards the door.

The sound of your fan - the one you never slept without - echoed through the walls as he brushed his teeth. With a soft pad, he made his way past your door and into the kitchen.

“Hey, dad. Need any help?”

Chucho turned from the oven, dough dripping from the spoon onto the hot range with a sizzle. He was dressed and ready for the day with a chipper attitude. “No, just sit down, coffee's hot.”

Javier reached for a mug, “You sure? It’s your birthday -”

“My birthday isn’t till tomorrow, and besides, I’m turning 70. The last thing I want is people waiting on me hand and foot when I can still do everything. Now go sit.”

Javier poured himself a cup before he took a seat at the breakfast table, a piece of furniture they hardly used when he lived at home, it was too small for two people. “Your friend still asleep?” He accentuated the word friend with a disbelieving tone. Javier nodded as the dark brew warmed his throat. “I like her,” he added, ready to discuss the topic now that you weren’t around.

“Yeah?” Javier dragged a coaster over, setting his mug down, “I thought you would, she’s pretty easy to like.” The last part slipping out in the comfort of his own home, his father, Javier took another sip, avoiding his father as he glanced behind his shoulder.

“She is,” Chucho said knowingly as he slid a pancake on top of a large stack. Just like when he was growing up, Chucho always made far too much food when they had guests. “Very easy to like. She’s polite, sweet… and makes you happy.”

“Dad…” he shook his head. Did everyone see it? Steve. Chucho. Would everyone at the party tonight? Would Joe? He felt his feelings overflowing, growing each day. Did they seep from his pores for everyone to see? Everyone except for you. “It’s not-”

“I know,” Chucho said, his soft voice barely audible over the oven fan. “It’s just nice to see you -“ The sentence abruptly ended once he heard the sound of your door opening, much to Javier’s relief. “Wanna help me get this on the table?”

Javier moved the dish of bacon and eggs from the counter to the already set dining table. Chucho brought over the pancakes and syrup, and Javier brought over an extra sauce bowl. “What’s that for?” Chucho asked.

“She’ll want her syrup on the side,” Chucho creased his brows, “Trust me.”

---

The afternoon flew by. After breakfast, Javier offered to show you around the ranch, which you gladly accepted. Dressed for a part, you wore jeans shorts and a suede button up with the top two buttons undone, the crimson color matching the boots you borrowed from Marie.

Javier led you from the barn, through the dandelions and chickweed to the creek behind the live oaks. He talked about his mother, how she used to bring him out here and hum Bible hymns while he picked out weeds and offered them to her like a bouquet.

Javier knew his mother would’ve liked you, he wished he would’ve told you that.

After returning, you went to shower and get ready while he helped Chucho with ranch projects that required two-hands. Covered in dirt and sweat, both men cleaned themselves up. Running a quick comb through his damp hair, Javier threw on a flannel - rusted orange and navy blue - and a pair of jeans, with one last look in the mirror he went to check on you.

Using a two-finger knock, Javier waited to enter until you yelled all clear. With your brow drawn together, mouth tight, you swayed from side to side in the mirror. Your floral sundress flared on the sides as you assessed, four others laid out on the bed, waiting in the wings.

Stalled in the doorway, Javier looked you up and down, calves up to the inch past mid-thigh cut, round ass covered in baby pink and robin blue flowers. Gulping down the thoughts of fucking you in the mirror, he offered a shaky compliment that made your head dip and body twist with a different emotion as he led you out to the car.

Magnetic. He felt himself being pulled to you, needing to see you. Angling the rearview mirror on the backseat, he glanced back and forth. His heart clenched in your unknown grip; your laughter at Pop’s stories a symphony to his ear.

He needed to touch you. Once parked and out of the car, he reached for you, instantly cooled by the drag of cotton on his fingertips. When you smiled up at him, the golden hour reflecting in your eyes, bathing you in light like a message from above, his breath caught in his throat, punched back once the crowd yelled surprise.

Friend. The word burned his tongue like cheap, black coffee - hot and bitter. By the tenth introduction, the lip of his beer was glued to his lips, taking a swig by the time he uttered the last letter of your name.

Everyone gawked at you. His unmarried cousins. The ladies luncheon posse. Others he never met. They leaned in, whispering to each other with what Javier assumed to be either shock or want depending on the person.

After making the rounds with his family, Javier’s stomach grumbled and his attention turned to the dwindling line of the buffet. He filled his plate with tamales, birria tacos and stuffed peppers; this was one of the things he missed most when he moved to Austin, his aunts cooking.

“Your family did a great job, this place looks amazing,” you said, looking around the room as he zig-zagged around the tables towards Chucho. Too focused on you to stare around the room, he nodded once he looked around at the stone walls and bantering decorations.

The party was being held at a popular bar in downtown Laredo, an attached wide open back room that was reserved for parties. It wasn’t a place that Javier regulared during his time living here, it lacked that stale cigarette air and sticky whiskey floors. This was a far better place for Pop’s birthday.

“Hey, Pops,” he smacked him on the shoulder, pulling out the two chairs next to him. Chucho acknowledged him with a smile before turning back to finish his discussion. Chucho was a staple around Laredo, born and raised in the city, watching the city grow throughout the years. So, while Laredo wasn’t small, he seemed to know everyone somehow.

“Hey, Javi. It’s good to see ya again,” One of Chucho’s oldest friends said, his wife smiling as they got up from the table. His mouth full of tamale, he nodded with a stuffed smile.

“How’re you enjoying the party?” You asked Pops before taking a bite. “Holy, this is amazing.” Chucho and Javier laughed as you shoved another bite into your mouth.

“I can’t really complain, it’s a party dedicated to me,” Chucho laughed, pleased with the turnout as he looked around the room at all the guests. He pushed his empty plate aside to rest his elbows on the table. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been quite a hit,” Chucho not so subtly glanced at Javier.

“Really?” Your eyes lit up, fist covering your mouth.

“Mh-mmm, his cousins haven’t stopped talking about you,” Chucho nodded his head over to a group of three in the corner, stealing glances every now and then. Javier smacked his lips together before finishing off the rest of his drink.

“I’m gonna get another,” Javier said, abruptly lifting from the chair “Want anything?” Chucho shook his head, and you asked for another. Javier caught his cousin's eyes when he turned to head towards the back wall with the bar, their faces lighting up at the prospect of getting some time alone without him around.

Weaving through the crowd of hi’s and how are you’s, each met by the same answer - a plastered smile to conceal the war in his mind. It wasn’t jealousy. Per say. Sure, he hated the idea of watching you flirt with his cousins. Not that he had any right to, you weren’t his girlfriend. Besides, shouldn’t he get used to it? If he stayed in your life, if you remained friends, seeing you in a relationship was inevitable.

He had been lucky that you seemed to be taking a break from dating these past few months, spending time with him instead of on dates, he was able to ignore the future. But the little bubble you existed in wouldn’t last forever. He suddenly felt sick, the idea of seeing you with another, walking down the aisle to someone else as he just stood there. Javier gripped the edge of the bar top, launching himself forward to rest his elbows on the smooth wood. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he stood in wait for the bartender.

“Javi?” His head shot up at the familiar voice - Victoria’s voice. Her plump lips were stained in the usual red, body cut-in half by a bar top, her hair still that soft brown, but cut to her shoulders.

“Vic? What - what’re you doing here?”

“I work here now, have for a few months,” she emphasized the last point, pointing out how long it’d been. Tucking a loose strand behind her ear, she grabbed for a glass and poured the whiskey, sliding it towards him. “How’ve you been?”

The scratch of crystalline glass against wood made his brain finally catch up to the moment. “Good, good. How’re you?” He asked - earnestly - remembering the last time he saw her.

“I’ve been good, actually.” She nodded. The air stalled in an awkward pause as Javier tried to think of the right words to say, but before anything came, she leaned forward and spoke again. “So, is that the girl?” His brows creased, and she scoffed. “Come on, Javi. Everyone’s been talking about her. Javier Peña bringing a girl to Laredo is big news.”

Javier gulped, he didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Vic-“

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. I knew what our relationship was, now tell me. Was I right?”

Javier took a long drink, once again at a loss of words. How could he tell her? You were the reason, but you were just a friend. Oh, it sounded pathetic.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been dating someone. Jason, down at the auto shop on 13th. Yep, 3 months now.”

“I’m happy for you, Vic.” He felt relieved that she held no ill will towards him, never intending on hurting her or using her. “But, we’re…we’re not together,” swirling the liquid in his glass, he notched his head to the side.

“Really? Hmmm.” She scrunched her face together, clearly taken aback by the information. “Well, Chucho seems to like her,” she nodded behind his shoulder. Peeking behind him, he saw you and Chucho at the desserts table, grabbing a piece of cake.

---

The rest of the night was much of the same. Their table was a revolving door of family and friends, a few brought up Javier’s time in Colombia, getting all shiny eyed at the hometown hero. Every time, Javier smiled with his lips, turning to his whiskey - which switched to water two hours ago. When his cousins stopped by for a second time, you swore Javier tightened his grip on the back of your chair, the men turning more sheepish in his presence. But the highlight was definitely Chucho’s two younger sisters, their fun personalities mixed with shot after shot. Suddenly, you were one too many deep and Chucho was snoring in the seat next to you.

After that, Javier decided it was time to call it a night, the party was already dwindling and the hour late. With the help of his aunts, Chucho was buckled into the backseat and fast asleep. Both of them wrapped you into a hug, telling you that you were welcome anytime.

Bright-eyed, but loose-limbed, you sunk into the passenger seat with a wide smile.

“Did you have fun?” Javier asked, driving through downtown - sidewalks bustling, bar signs lit up on the warm summer night.

“Are you serious? I had a blast,” your voice was higher-pitch, fluctuating and exaggerated from the alcohol. “Watching your cousin’s husband robot all night was the highlight. What about you, did you have fun?”

“Yeah, but I think Pops has us beat.” You peered around the console and giggled; his body slack, mouth wide open with the cowboy hat in the seat next to him.

“The birthday boy is plum-tuckered.” Javier chuckled at your attempted old western movie voice.

You propped your elbows on the console, palms cradling your face. Dull orange spilled from the street lights, igniting his silhouette in dwindling embers.

“Javi,” you marveled, buzzed on the remnants of his cologne, “I don’t think I told you earlier - you look very handsome tonight.”

“Don’t go overboard,” he scoffed, a smile slipping through; he wasn’t great at accepting compliments.

“I’m not!” You playfully slapped his arm, “If anything, I’m downplaying it,” chin tucked down, last part mumbled, you traced the hard plastic console. Missing the way his eyes lingered a second too long at the crown of your head. “Also, thank you for bringing me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he glanced over, face shadowed. “Did it do the trick?”

You nodded, “Like I said earlier, once the initial shock went away, I was fine. Honestly. It was just… a lot to take in. Like, seeing him again and then to meet her - his fiancé. Like - fuck.” Your body bounced against the seat back. “I’m sure if I was alone, at home today I wouldn’t be great, but I haven’t thought about it…like at all. Probably, because I’m with you.”

The leather steering wheel twisted under his grip. “Glad I could help,” he said, voice strained. Pulling into the drive, Pops jolted awake as the car wrestled along the path. Slow and steady, Javier shuffled Pops to bed, leaving a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand before joining you in the bathroom.

“Hmm?” His toothbrush hung from his mouth as he lifted the tube of toothpaste in offering.

“Yes, please.” You smiled up at him, bare faced as he squeezed a dollop onto the pink bristles.

Humming toothbrushes provided background music to the domestic scene playing out in the oval mirror. Lips shifting into odd lines and exposed teeth. A dribble of white foam slipped from his lips, down to his chin.

After a succession of spitting and water swishing, Javier and you stood in cramped space. Neither of you quite used to departing for the night in the same house. His hand rested on his hip, the other gripping the edge of the tile vanity.

“Well, I guess this is good night,” you said - reluctant - squeezing the cosmetic bag to your chest as you peered up at him.

His dark eyes were steep, full of - Desire? Friendship? Longing? Hope? Too tipsy, the emotion tingled the tip of your tongue, but couldn’t quite be placed.

He dipped down to your mouth, holding you breathless as he teased his petal-pink lips with his tongue. Bathed in crisp white bath lights, his eyes shiny and pupils blown wide, you took a baby step closer. Wide-eyed and inviting, you never left his intense gaze. His fingers tightened around the cold navy blue tile. The unspoken lingered on the seam of his parted lips.

Your lids fluttered in anticipation, but before your neck craned he looked away. “It’s late,” he said - pained - mouth twitching flat, tongue pressed against cheek. Stung by the rejection, your body jolted back. Gaze dropping to the bath mat, too embarrassed to look at him. “We should get to bed.”

The walls were closing in, the room suffocating. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why couldn’t there be a rewind button? You only needed to go back a few minutes, just to skip off to bed instead of wishing and hoping for whatever the fuck that was. What’d ya think he was gonna do? Fuck you on the sink? God, you needed help.

You tried to look at him, but stopped at his chin. Too scared for the pity you were sure was swirling around his dark eyes, the same ones you convinced yourself were full of desire mere moments ago.

“Night, Javi.” You spun around, basically running out the door and into the bedroom.

---

The next morning you awoke to the bird chirping. Slamming the pillow over your head, you attempted to sink into the bed - hoping it would somehow teleport you to another dimension or back home.

You weren’t mad at Javier for rejecting you, just dreading the outcome of the event. Would it be awkward? Would he say something? Had you messed everything up?

After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, you returned to the scene of the crime, brushing your teeth alone and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation in the dining room, the only words you could make out were Paula, tequila and snoring.

Deciding the best course of action was to act like it never happened, you greeted the birthday boy and Javier with a plastered smile. Filling your plate with biscuits and fruit, as you sat down across from Javi.

Your nerves and tendency to overthink were to blame for the initial awkwardness, but it washed away after a few minutes, the night forgotten, much to your relief.

With it being Chucho’s birthday, Javier and you spent most of the day in Laredo. Running a few errands and getting an early dinner. Bags packed, Javier went to load them into the trunk as you turned to Chucho.

“Thank you so much for having me.” Chucho couldn’t help himself, he pulled you into a hug.

“You’re welcome anytime,” he said as he pulled away, looking you dead in the eye, “You’re good for him.” You glanced as he hurled the stuffed bag in. “He probably doesn’t tell you much, if ever, but I know you mean a lot to him.”

Your cheeks tightened at his words, a smile pulled at your lips. “He means a lot to me, as well.”

Chucho nodded, he saw the way you looked at Javi, the way he looked at you. He wanted to scream at both of you, but it wasn’t the time. Not yet.

With a slam of the trunk, Javier slapped the dust off his hands, and onto his jeans. Hugging his father and wishing him a happy birthday, you waved goodbye and settled into the jeep. Taking one last look around at the ranch and at the man, sitting on the porch.

---

The Austin skyline lit up the night, the stars disappearing in favor of light pollution as you reached the final stretch.

“Would you rather have a third nipple or an extra toe?” You lounged in the reclined chair, bare feet tapping on the dash.

“How big’s the nipple?” Javier never expected a question like that to come out of his mouth. “And where is it?”

“Quarter size,” He shrugged, “And let’s say, it’s in the center of your chest.”

“So, like a line of nipples?”

You cackled, “Precisely.”

“What about the extra toe? Is it just on one foot? Or both? How big is it?”

“Holy, I’ve never met someone that asks this many questions during would you rather,” you teased, “I guess, let’s go with an extra pinky toe - on both feet.”

Javier thought about his answer for a moment, “Extra toes.” You nodded in agreement, then looked at him expectantly. You’d been playing the game for the past thirty minutes or so, and he was running out of questions. “Would you rather fly or be invisible?”

“Booo. That’s so boring.” Your head rolled around the headrest, pouting.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize an extra toe and three nipples was so interesting.” You looked out the window to hide your smile, but the reflection of dash lights in the mirror gave it away. “Why don’t you go again?”

“Fine, I will,” you boasted, sitting up in the seat. “Would you rather, be able to speak with animals or speak every foreign language.”

“How do you come up with these so fast? You play this game a lot?” Javier asked - honestly curious. You shrugged, an embarrassed smile pulled down the sides of your lips. “Well, that one’s easy, speak every foreign language.”

“No way!” His neck snapped, expecting you to be looking out the window, but your mouth was wide open, staring at him in shock. “You’d give up the ability to speak to animals?” His brows creased, he slowly nodded. “Why?”

“Are you serious? Speaking every language is a useful skill-“

“And speaking to animals isn't?” You interrupted.

“No. Not really. Maybe if you’re a vet.” You rolled your eyes. “What’d you use it for?”

“Everything?!” Your head shook with the implied duh. “You could talk to dogs and cats. Lik, if saw a deer or something on a walk. You could be like hey what’s up? It’d be like, just trottin’ around.”

“No offense,” he shifted the gear into park outside your place - an old tudor home turned three-plex. “But that’s useless.” He concluded the statement by shutting the door.

“That was just one example, there’s other uses.”

“Okay. Name one.” Javier kept his hand on the open hood, holding your bag at his side.

“You could use them as witnesses for crimes.”

“Ah, so you’re an animal interpreter.” Javier slammed the trunk, “That’ll stand in court.” Your face dropped. With nothing left to argue, you stomped away, Javier in tow.

“Guess that means I win.” Javier said, as you slotted the key into the red wooden door.

“This time, Peña,” you smiled over your shoulder. “This time.”

A ray of moonlight shot down the middle of the pitch black entryway hall, casting a shadow of the console table and lamp on the wall. With your massive bag, it would be a tight squeeze to fit both of you, Javier ventured inside first, flicking on the lights at the end of the hall - illuminating the living room and entryway. Your keys clinked in the bowl as Javier dropped your bag by the couch.

Reaching your arms above your head in a stretch, you leaned against the propped door. “Well, I guess it’s officially over.”

Javier wanted to nail his feet to the ground, toss away the key to the empty apartment awaiting him. Even after 48 hours straight with you, he found himself craving a little more time, even if it was only a few more minutes. Looking down, he searched for an excuse, but he reached the entryway mat empty-handed.

“Honestly, I can’t thank you enough, I had the best time. Who knew that Laredo could be so fun?”

He chuckled, shoving on a smile as he forced himself to do the inevitable - to say goodbye.

The words lodged into his throat at how angelic you looked under the soft yellow lights, eyes clear - sparkling like the night sky on glassy water - your smile glowing, a beam of light straight from heaven and directed up at him, only him.

His heart stuttered, triggering the alarms to ring, the voice inside his head awakened, screaming at him to leave, to walk out the door before he ruined everything he fought for. The silence weighed heavy on him, built with bricks of suppressed want. He tried to force the words out, but your gaze seemed to be beckoning him closer. His restraint was so thin and threadbare - torn and tattered from last night and all others before.

Suddenly, he moved a single creaky step closer. He could smell your shampoo. Fruity or flowery? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. It was his forbidden fruit. Sweet. Intoxicating. And fuck, it made his mouth water.

No.

No.

No.

He knew he needed to fight harder. Now wasn’t the time to make a rash decision, not when he felt so confused about his future. It embarrassed him to admit at his age, he didn’t know if he wanted or even could be a boyfriend, let alone one you deserved.

But fuck. He wanted - No. More than that; he longed for you, to touch your soft skin, hear you moan his name as he fucked you over and over again, even if it was only for a night.

“Javi.” It was breathless - wanting - and it crashed into him like a tidal wave that scrambled his thoughts and consumed him entirely.

Suddenly, he crowded you, palms flat to the door, fingers splayed along red wood. He dipped down, his lips skimming your ear, “Say it again.” The husk of his words ignited your tender flesh in goosebumps.

“Javi.” The needy obedience made his cock surge, he hadn’t even touched you yet and you sounded wrecked.

His lips trailed with whispers of your name along your supple cheek; he savored the sharp inhales and whimpers it drew from you. “Tell me, you want this,” the desperation, the year of restraint, stained his every word, he dragged the tip of his nose along your bridge. “Tell me, this is okay.”

“I want -” you stammered, his nails dug into the wood - forehead resting on yours, breath mingling together. “Ja-,” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to roll your hips against his jean-clad thigh. “I want this - I”

Javier cupped your cheeks and crashed his lips to yours; you stumbled back, nails digging into his shoulders as the door boomeranged off the stopper.

With a steel grip, he tore you away from the door, the tips of your toes dragging on the wood as he grabbed the edge of and slammed it shut with one hand. He would’ve taken you right there, but if he only had one night, he was going to do it right; spread you out and worship you.

The shuffle scoot to the bedroom was a mixture of discarded shoes and hasty kisses; you worked in tandem at his buttons, leaving a cotton blue puddle on the living room floor.

Cradling the back of your head, he shoved you flat to the door with a messy kiss - tongue brushing the seam of your lips and eagerly licking into your mouth. Your fingers combed through his hair, and he went dizzy - all the practiced moves vanishing in the intense hunger for more.

With a gentle suck to your tongue he slotted his thigh between your legs, the moan that vibrated off your tongue made his knees almost buckle from the toll it took on his aching cock.

Fuck, he should’ve masturbated in the shower earlier, he could feel a pre-cum stain forming in his jeans.

His free hand stroked the side of your neck, down the center of your chest; he bunched the soft cotton hem, grazing his fingers on the fiery skin of your stomach. You broke the kiss to discard your shirt down the hall.

Wild eyes stared back into his - pupils blown with lust. His hungry gaze wandered to the top of your breasts, he groaned low in his chest as his pointer finger traced the cups of your black bra - down to the center band. You shuddered under him, head rolling back with a thump on the door.

His lips settled back onto yours, fervently kissing you as he wrestled with the knob - he guided you inside. The palm of his hand skimmed until he reached the edge of the switch and flicked it up.

“Not that light,” you said in between kisses, the room darkened once again. “The lamp.” He smiled against your lips, even in the heat of the moment the details mattered to you. He couldn’t care less as long as he was able to see exactly what he did to you.

With a chaste kiss, you pranced over to the nightstand and twisted on the lamp. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands skimming the comforter, legs crossed - nervously swaying your foot back and forth.

He leisurely strided over, a devour of the other’s newly exposed skin; you lingered on his soft tummy and him on your breasts - his imagination running wild. Soon, he soothed himself, staring down as your gaze leveled with the bulge in his jeans.

Sweeping your lashes up, you innocently blinked and carefully pinched the zipper between your fingers. Heaviness pulled at his lids and his body begged to buck into the touch - but he fought. Enjoying your hungry gaze even as you dragged away the denim friction.

“May I?” After his small nod, you fixed yourself on the notch by notch reveal. “Oh. No boxers,” you seemed pleasantly surprised at the dark coarse hair.

“Personal preference.” He spoke through his teeth as if his arousal wasn’t evident and about to smack you in the face. He caught the edges of your lips curling into a proud smile, pleased with the reaction you caused. With a little assistance, you tugged down his pants.

Your eyes crossed as he stepped out of his jeans. His long, thick cock bobbing in your face - a fresh bead leaking onto his belly from the angry red tip. It was his turn to hide his pride as you licked your lips.

As much as he wanted to feel that pretty pink tongue wrap around him, he desired something else even more. Taking advantage of your analysis, he dropped to his knees before you could even touch him. Instantly, your legs parted, dropping to prop yourself on your elbows as if it was an automatic reaction.

His palms ran up and down your thighs, teasing the seam of your shorts as his mustache scratched the same path. It was euphoric, finally feeling your skin on his and he moaned.

He moved upward, applying a hint of pressure at the apex of your thighs with his thumbs. You let out a pitiful moan with a roll of your hips, he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband.

“May I?” He peered up - smug. You eagerly nodded - eyes dangerously low, breath held on your parted lips. “Words, baby.” Your eyes shot open at the pet name, but fluttered shut again as a kiss landed on your thigh.

“Fuck, Javi.” He placed a kiss on the other, tracing your hip bone with his thumb. “Yes - God - Yes - Please. Oh -“

His hips surged into the mattress, he could’ve cum from your begging alone. Quickly, he took off your shorts and panties and threw them behind his shoulder. Gripping your thighs, he spread them apart.

“Fuck, baby,” he soothed, breath hot on your glistening slit. “You’re so wet, so fucking wet.” He marveled as he teased your swelling clit, drinking in the sharp sinful moan that escaped you.

“Fuck, I gotta taste you.” He licked his lips, drawing circles on your clit - slick pooled around your entrance. “Shit. Can I taste you? Please, fuckin’ please.” He didn’t even recognize his own voice - it was pathetic.

“Javi, oh yes. Yes - ahhh!” He dove in, frantically licking around your slit, mapping all of you with his tongue. He memorized the spots that made your hips jerks and breath catch. The tangy taste tantalized his tongue and he snapped - smothering his face into your cunt with a depraved moan.

Your hands flew to grip at his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as he devoured you with his tongue. Babbling moans electrified his spine, pre-cum smearing his purpling tip. He never felt this - untamed - adrift in someone else’s pleasure.

He was about to burst. Unable to take the shame of cumming untouched, he fucked his own fist; hips bucking into the mattress.

“Holy - God. Are you - Are you touching yourself?” He peered up through your thighs with shameful - big - eyes and nodded into your pussy.

Your head dropped back with a lewd moan at his confession, and he buried himself further into your folds - growling. He was close. So so close. Sparks of pleasure shot up his spine, his pace quickened and with one final tug his hips jerked against the squeaky bed.

“Oh fuck - did you just -“ His eyes were pussy drunk, release dripping on his fingertips and stained on your comforter - the image sent you over the edge. He drank in every last drop - craving more.

Cum-covered fingers glided up your thigh - a mark that led to your belly. “You taste so good baby, so good,” he slipped his finger from your clit down your sensitive folds to tease your entrance. You mewled as the tip of his finger dipped inside, the needy sound shot straight to his cock - already twitching back to life.

He drew his finger back to admire the wetness in the lamp light, he hummed in approval and watching his thick digit slowly work in and out of your pussy - adding a second.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gritted - two fingers knuckle deep and circling your pulsing walls. “You think you can give me one more? Can you do that?”

Javier looked up, his heart stuttered - he’d never seen anything so beautiful. You were nodding eagerly, staring down at him with glossy bright eyes. There was no shame in your display, legs wide open and his gaze level with the most perfect pussy he’d ever seen. Your hips surged - impatient for more. But he didn’t give in. He flattened his palm on your stomach, pressing you into place as he spent his time admiring you - everything about you.

This time, he wanted to slow things down - worship you like he intended. The world outside disappeared between your thighs. He swirled your clit with his tongue, offering teasing and tender flicks here and there. Dragging his fingers languidly through your soaked walls - your pussy molded to him.

“More - more.” He obliged with a steady buildup. Lips latching to your clit with a suck that matched the pace of his hooked fingers.

“You’re so fucking wet. Fucking soaking my fingers.” Each word was accompanied by an audible thrust into your soaked cunt. You grabbed the back of his head, smothering his face into you; his guttural moan vibrated against your clit and you spun into a breathless chant of his name.

After working you through your orgasm, he stood with a pop and crack of his knees. The slight ache was worth it to see you blissed out and boneless on the bed. Your puffy folds shimmered with wetness and spit. In his tunnel-vision, he’d completely forgotten to discard your bra and lavish your tits. The thought had his hard cock twitching.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” The question snapped him from your body, to your face and he watched you shift to lay against the pillows - legs spread wide in an invitation. The visible strain of his cock made you smile.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, crawling on top of you. You handed him a condom from the nightstand.

“Mh-mmm. Do you wanna fuck me?”

Ripping the wrapper, he rolled the rubber on. “Of course, I do,” he whispered in your ear, and he heard you sharply inhale. He kissed your collarbone, over to your bra strap “but first, let’s get this off.” He thumbed the strap, and you quickly tore it off.

“Fuck,” he said - very eloquently - as he cupped your breast. With the soft, full flesh in his hand, he surged down and kissed you hard on the mouth - swallowing your pitiful moans as he teased your hardening bud.

His hips rocked, the tip of his cock sliding around your folds and bumping against your dripping pussy. You lifted your hips, catching the tip inside.

When he pulled back to look at you, your gaze pierced into him. He couldn’t remember if anyone looked at him like you did. So full of adoration - care - like he was delicate, precious and worthwhile. It physically pained him, the way it stirred something inside him - it was like his body was burning with you.

His cock delved further and further into your soaking wet heat, and he couldn’t get enough. It left him greedy. He wanted more. More of you. Or this.

You consumed him, legs wrapped around his waist and cupping his cheek and he gasped at the feeling. Every neuron in flames with you. He wondered if this was intimacy, true and raw and real.

Whatever it was, he was lost in it. Basking in every part of your skin. He kissed your face - cheeks, chin and jaw - down to your breasts; he lavished each nipple with attention, his forehead rubbing along the supple flesh. It was heaven, bliss at his fingertips.

Whispers of your name accompanied each thrust, spearing his cock into the spot that made you see stars. You clamped around him again, latching onto the base of his neck - holding him impossibly close - as you caressed the shell of his ear with praises mixed with his name.

It overwhelmed him; he felt like he was drowning in it all. Your words - the squeeze of your silken pussy - the finality of giving in. There it was. Three frightening words building in chest as his thrusts turned sloppy. They seared his throat, and he wanted to say them, but he lost them as he crushed his lips to your neck and groaned as his body erupted with a peak he never knew existed.

---

Your room was bathed in pale gray, the sun had yet to fully rise as you stirred awake. The warm tangle of limbs you fell asleep in was gone and you reached for it back. Only to find the other side of the bed empty and a stirring in the living room.

Something was off, there was a pit in your stomach as you swept around the warm empty side of the bed. You kicked off your covers and jumped out of bed.

He wouldn’t. He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. Maybe he’s thirsty or was going to the bathroom.

Wrapped in a big puffy robe, you peeked around the doorframe. Your worst fear came true. He was hopping on one foot, putting his other shoe on, his pants still unzipped and shirt thrown over him - unbuttoned.

“Javi?” His name sounded different in the morning light compared to the darkness. You winced at the memory, at the small sound of your voice.

You caught that his back straightened immediately, like your voice sent a shiver down his spine. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious in his presence and you pulled the robe closer - not wanting him to see a hint of skin.

“Where’re you going?” He didn’t have to answer the question, it was written all over his face.

A/N: I'm sorry this took forever. Between overthinking it and being sick, it was not going hot. But I hope you liked it! Also, I tried to keep the kids topic open to interpretation since this is reader insert. Thank you again for reading!

Taglist: @seasonschange-butpeopledont @furious-rogue-stuff @catchallfangirl @honeyofthegods @athalien @peoniarose @phandoz @littlemisspascal @0celesteisthebest0 @hnt-escape @nymphwriting @adriiibell @snowqueen09 @whatodair @oliviajdjarin @iblogtopassthetime @paintlavillered @hotchlover @bruxasolta @southotheborder @kirsteng42

[wiypt-writes]

Rawhide

Ch7. Heart And Soul

Episode Summary: The team are playing a waiting game as they prepare for Hydra to show their hand. Meanwhile, something is bugging Bucky…

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Episode Pairings:  Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader.

W/C: 6k

A/N: One of the pics in the MB (the Bucky one) is an edit done by NixAkimbo which I asked permission to use before she left Tumblr. She’s still on Insta, so please check her out. And if anyone is able to message her for me (I can’t, as she doesn’t follow me, please tell her I thank her for letting me use it!)

Rawhide Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 6

Despite the troubling news, you slept well that night, wrapped in the security of Steve’s arms. You woke the next morning with an uncontrollable hunger, so you gently untangled yourself from the koala bear that was draped around you and you headed downstairs.

Twenty minutes or so later, a huge stack of pancakes was on the side of the counter and you smiled as you felt Steve’s presence.

“Hungry, ‘Mega?” his low timbre hit your ears as his strong arms circled your waist.

“Yeah, like, really hungry.” You shrugged, twisting your head round to press your lips to his.

Steve chuckled, “well, it smells good. Almost as good as you.”

At his comment you felt your cheeks heat and you scoffed, “down, boy!”

Steve laughed and stepped away, moving to the coffee pot. All of a sudden, you felt his jovial nature slip into a more brooding one and you took a deep breath.

“Steve?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about everything we found out last night.” He leaned against the counter, running his head over his beard. “I need to speak to Fury, but there’s also a lot that needs doing on the farm.”

“So delegate,” you looked at him, “I’m sure a few of us can manage the chores around here whilst you do what you gotta do.”

Steve looked at you before he chuckled, “I keep forgetting you’ve worked a ranch before.”

You popped a shoulder, “I used to run it, actually. I was the one with the organisation skills. Colin, well, he was more of a do-er.”

Steve pondered for a moment as he took a sip of his coffee. With a nod, he stepped forward and set the mug down at one of the places you’d set at the large breakfast counter. “Okay, then in that case I’ll leave it in your capable hands and tell Bucky, Clint, Sam and Pete they’re at your disposal. The rest of us can speak to Fury.”

“Sure.” You nodded, “but first, you need to eat as well.”

Steve merely cocked a brow at you and sat down as you took your seat, Commando tucking into his bowl of kibble as the pair of you attacked the pancakes. Steve watched with a little curiosity at just how much you wolfed down, you ate more than him and that was saying something.

Your appetite finally subsided, you pushed your plate away and gave a contented sigh. Just as the pair of you had finished, the door opened and Bucky walked in, followed by Sam.

“Mornin’” Sam tipped his hat to you both and you smiled.

“Hey, coffee's on if you guys want some.”

“Don’t mind if I do…” Bucky grinned, heading to the pot. “So, Steve, what’s the play?”

“I want you two and Pete to stay here, help Y/N on the ranch. We did nothing yesterday so there’s a bit to catch up on.” Steve ran his hand over his beard, “I’ll get the others to meet me at Starks and we can call Fury, tell him what we figured out and see what he wants to do.”

Bucky looked at Sam, who gave a shrug, “what you lookin’ at me for? I just do what he says, only slower.”

Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky simply raised a brow, sipping from his mug. After a little pause he inclined his head slightly, but you could sense he wasn’t entirely happy with the plan. That said, to his credit, he didn’t argue.

Less than an hour later, you kissed Steve goodbye as he climbed in his truck, Commando once more remaining with you, although this time by choice much to Steve’s disgruntlement. Sam merely sniggered at the fact the large dog seemed so attached to you, but out of the corner of your eye you saw Bucky merely looking at you, with a blank stare that made you a little nervous.

However, you pushed it to the back of your mind and the four of you spent the morning sorting out the barn and giving care to a few of the longhorns who needed their feet looking at. Bucky and Sam, being the two who had the most physical strength wrestled the large animals to the ground whilst Peter helped you apply the topical treatment and spray that Banner had left. Once that was done, you herded them on foot to a paddock a little further away and made your way back to the barn.

“You feeling okay?” Peter looked at you and you wiped your brow, nodding.

“Yeah, just a little hot. And I’m hungry, again.” You mused.

“Well, it is lunchtime.” The Beta grinned, “my favourite part of the day.”

“You mean other than breakfast and dinner time?” Bucky raised a brow and Peter shrugged.

“You missed out snack time and supper,” Sam folded his arms across his chest, “and when he gets a juice box!”

“Oh, leave him alone.” You reached up and ruffled Peter’s hair, “c’mon, I’ll rustle us something up.”

“There’s no need,” Bucky shook his head, “we can all sort ourselves.”

You frowned, “I don’t mind.”

“I said it’s fine, Y/N.” Bucky’s tone was firm and it made you recoil a little.

“What’s got into you?” Sam looked at him, and Bucky shook his head, but you could feel a myriad of confusing emotions barrelling off him.

“It’s okay, Sam, I’ve probably overstepped. I’m just gonna go up to the house, I’ll see you in a while.”

You hastily made your retreat, blinking back the tears in your eyes. Up until now you’d always gotten on with Bucky. Yes, he could be a little withdrawn at times, moody even, but he’d never shown you any animosity.  Commando followed you up the steps and through to the kitchen and you held the fridge open, trying to figure out what you wanted.

Half an hour later, after a huge tuna sandwich followed by a bag of chips and four cookies, you settled yourself in your new found favourite spot in Steve’s cabin, the little window seat and suddenly felt a pang in your heart that your Alpha wasn’t there. You felt a strange urge to surround yourself by his smell, so you grabbed one of the throws off the sofa and tucked it around you as you snuggled down surrounded by the cushions. As soon as you’d done that, Commando hopped up, laying his head on your lap.

“I know, I’m being ridiculous.” You stroked his soft fur, “Bucky’s probably just tired, huh?”

Commando replied my giving a large yawn and you chuckled, before you erupted into one of your own. “Us too, huh. Well, guess a little nap can’t hurt anyone.”

**** “So you think they’re gonna supercharge the Alphas they have?” Fury repeated, his face stony as he sat at a table in HQ, flanked by Coulson and Hill.

Steve nodded. “Y/N made a good point, Rumlow is egotistical. We know that newly presented Alphas are unpredictable and very strong and he wouldn’t want to risk anyone else in that army challenging him for his status. Plus, they left the Omega Genome behind and we know they need both parts to make the conversion work.”

“The obvious question is do we think Erskine told Hydra what they wanted to know before they killed him?” Bruce asked and Steve took a deep breath.

“The fact he turned up dead doesn’t leave me with much hope.”

“Cap’s right,” Fury nodded, “Hydra wouldn’t have killed him otherwise, because they needed him.”

On the screen, Fury glanced at Hill, then Coulson before he gave a shrug. “Okay, Cap, so how you wanna play this?”

“Well, we think Shield should take what we have learned to the WSC.” Steve spoke, having agreed this with the rest of the team earlier, “I know that Hydra have Hawley in their pocket, but the rest of the WSC so far have given us no reason to doubt them. We need to try the diplomatic route first, see if we can avoid an out and out war.”

“Agreed,” Fury nodded, “I doubt it will do much good…”

“But at least we tried.” Steve shrugged.

“What about your insider?” Natasha asked, “anything from them?”

“Word has it that Hydra’s troops have been stood down.” Fury shrugged. “Which leads me to conclude that they’re using diversion tactics, trying to confuse us so we don’t have a clue what they’re up to.”

“Good plan, it’s working.” Tony sniffed and Fury took a deep breath.

“Hill is due to make contact with them later. At the moment it’s just ears to the ground.

Steve took a deep breath as the room fell silent. “Okay, I think we’re done for the day. Keep us up to speed anything you find. The rest of us, stay alert but until further notice, it’s business as usual.”

Fury nodded, “I’ll be in touch.”

 “Long John Silver, pleasure as always.” Tony sniffed, saluting Fury as he leaning back in his chair, his boots resting on the table. Fury shot him a look, before the screen went blank.

“Well for now it’s a waiting game.” Steve broke the silence, “Natasha and Clint, stay close to Fury, make sure we’re in the know, so to speak. Tony, keep Happy up to speed and have him monitor the usual channels.”

With a final round of mumbled acknowledgements to their Captain’s orders, the team all rose and filed out of the room.

**** You felt Steve’s presence before you saw him. The unease you’d been feeling all day evaporated almost instantly as his scent invaded your senses. Immediately, you looked up from where you were sat in the office, filing and sorting out a few invoices and receipts. Seconds later, he strode into the barn and through to the office, where he paused, his broad form filling the doorway as Commando jumped up at him, his large bushy tail wagging.

“Hey,” Steve leaned against the frame as he scratched the dog behind the ears, a soft smile on his face.

“Hi,” you smiled back, “so, how did it go?”

“As well as can be expected. Have you been in here all day?”

“No, we dealt with the longhorns this morning and then, well, I had lunch and took a nap then came out to make a start on all this whilst they went out on a ride.”

“You missed a trail ride for paperwork?”

“Well someone has to do it, Steve!” you snapped, before letting out a sigh as you rubbed at your temple.

“Doll?” Steve questioned, his brow furrowing a little. “You’re uneasy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, just you know, all this stuff with Hydra.”

“Y/N.” Steve’s voice was stern and you took a deep breath, before you looked at him.

“It’s probably nothing, but Bucky’s been…well, a little moody. He was just quiet all morning and then when I offered to make lunch he was snappy. I think I’ve done something to upset him, so I just tried to stay out of his way.”

Steve took a deep breath as he pushed himself off the door frame and walked towards you.

“Moody how?” He perched on the edge of the desk and looked down at you.

“Just snappy,” you shrugged, “and I can sense he’s brooding about something, but what…I don’t know.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, don’t, like I say, it’s probably nothing.”

“Maybe, but he shouldn’t be making you feel uncomfortable.”

You shrugged, “I’m likely just being overly sensitive. It’s an Omega weakness…”

“No, it’s not a weakness, at all.” Steve shook his head. “It makes you you.”

You gave him a small smile and wrinkled your nose, “but anyway, it’s not important. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“He gets a little broody from time to time,” Steve nodded, “probably pissed I left him here. I’ll talk to him.”

“Please don’t make a fuss,” you blinked, “It’s really not that big of an issue.”

“No, but it’s made you feel uncomfortable, and I don’t want that. This is your home, as much as it is his.” Steve replied, calmly but firmly. “Now, how about you finish for the day and we head back up to the house. I’m going to brief everyone on what happened and you should be there. You’re part of the team now.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded. “Erm, can I make dinner for everyone? I’d like to.”

“Whatever you want, ‘Mega. And if Bucky doesn’t want it, then you have my full backing to launch the plate at his head.”

“And waste food?” you looked at him, and Steve chuckled at the affronted expression on your face, “no way, I’ll eat it myself.”

“Huh, you still hungry?”

“Starved, mind you, I’ve been eating all day,” you shrugged, before you grinned, “must be the additional exercise I’m doing.”

Steve laughed and shook his head as he stood up straight. “Maybe I should ease off you, give you a night’s rest.”

“Well, I can stay in my cabin tonight, I mean…”

“Hey, that was a joke,” Steve shook his head, “besides, even if we’re not…well, whatever, you can still stay with me. In fact, I’d kinda like you to do that all the time.”

You frowned, looking up at him as you felt his wave of nervousness. “You want me to move into the Ranch House?”

“Well, only if you’d like to. I mean, if you…”

You bit your lip. You’d lived in your own space for a good few years now, and had enjoyed the solitude. But everything inside you was screaming now to surrender that, to make your home with your Alpha.

Yet, he wasn’t your Alpha. Not fully. You weren’t bonded. And right there and then, for some reason, that suddenly bothered you.

“What is it?” Steve asked a little, and you shook your head.

“It’s nothing, errr, can I think about it? I mean, it’s not a no, I just…”

“No, of course, there’s no pressure, at all.” Steve shook his head. “If you don’t want to…”

“No, I do, I just…”

“Words, Omega.”

“We’re not bonded,” you blurted out. “Colin and I bonded before we lived together and-“

“You want me to bond you?” Steve replied, his voice even, despite the sudden spike you could feel to his hormones.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, “I like the idea of it.”

“Well, until you more than ‘like’ the idea, it’s not happening. I want you to be sure.” Steve gently shook his head.

“How will I know if I’m sure?” you whispered.

“How did you feel with Colin?”

“It just kinda happened,” You shrugged. “I don’t remember it being this conscious decision that either of us made, but it didn’t feel wrong. God, sorry, I’m not explaining this very well.”

“Somethings you can’t explain, Sweetheart.” Steve shrugged, “like the tie we seem to already share without the bond.”

You looked at him for a moment, “What do you mean?”

“I spoke to Thor yesterday, about what happened when we…” Steve paused, “he thinks that we might, errr, we might be Soul Mates…Jesus that sounds so corny out loud.”

“What do you mean, Soul Mates? Like suited for one another?”

“It’s a little more than that. A bond shared between two Soul Mates is everlasting, it can’t be broken, not even by death. It’s a Soul Bond. Again, this is all conjecture. He can’t remember ever having seen it before.”

You blinked, your mind processing what Steve had just told you. There was no denying that whatever there was between you was special. It had to be to be so strong after such a short period of time, and before you had both bonded.

But the idea of the whole Soul Mate thing, being an actual, physical and tangible thing…well, you weren’t quite sure if you actually believed that or not.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” You shook your head before you closed the laptop and stood up. “Shall we head back?”

“C’mere.” Steve spoke gently, reaching out for you. You obliged and stepped into the space between his legs, your hands falling to his shoulders, “don’t think about any of that, please. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s probably a load of crap.”

“It’s fine, honestly.” You shook your head. “And I’m glad you did tell me. Full disclosure, remember?”

Steve gave a chuckle as he raised his eyebrows, “touche.”

You smiled as you dropped a kiss to his lips. You meant for it to simply be a quick peck, but as you made to pull away, Steve’s arms circled you possessively, his lips seeking yours out. His tongue was soft and warm as it flicked against your bottom lip, before tangling effortlessly with yours. You could sense the desire rolling off him, and it heated you from your very core outwards, radiating through every cell in your body.

“Alpha…” you mumbled against his lips as his hands slid down to your ass, “you really wanna do this here?”

“Yup.” he grinned, and in a flash he stood, hauling you upwards. You squealed as he pivoted, depositing you on the desk. You fell back on your elbows as Steve leaned over you, his arms either side of your body, caging you in.

As you held yourself up, his lips locked on yours, his tongue diving into your throat. His hands went from caging you in to the flies of your jeans whilst you wrapped your booted feet around his narrow hips, attempting to toe one off at a time. Working one free, it fell to the wooden floor with a clunk and Steve grinned against his mouth as his fingers hooked into the waist band of your faded denims and panties.

Quickly with a bit of force, and with a gasp from your lips, the heavy material was down your hips and off your legs. Taking your remaining boot with them, Steve tossed them aside and you sat up slightly, your fingers working at buckle on his belt.

The clink and clank of its weight hung at the leather loop as you worked his flies, your fingers quickly making work of the button and zip, your right hand dipping inside his own waistband to grasp him.

“You eager, ‘Mega?” His voice was a soft, sultry growl against your lips, his nose brushing yours and you smirked a little.

“I believe you started this, Alpha.” A short grunt left his lips as you pulled him free, his cock heavy and thick, fully erect in your hand. One hand fisted in your hair, the other slipped down between your legs and you gasped as his fingers felt between your folds and found your nub. He pressed and you let out a groan of an "oh" at the feeling. His nose rubbed along your neck before he nipped at your jaw, sending a fluttering jolt to your inner walls. Your head tilted to the side and his teeth grazed over your neck, lingering a little on your mating gland and a shiver descended over your entire body. Your hand that held him dropped to between your legs as you pumped him once, twice and a third time. Your free hand wrapped around the back of his neck fingers scratching at the base of his hairline. You pressed the tip of his cock to your hole, wetting his head as his lips again slotted over yours, tongues and teeth clashing all the while his fingers and thumb still played you like a silver string guitar.

“Please, Alpha.” Your voice is was a needy whine.

His reply came in the thrust of his hips, his fingers sliding between your hood and his shaft. You were stretched and it was glorious. Then his fingers fell away and he gave a final press of his thumb while filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” your head fell back in satisfaction as his hips moved back and forth, slowly but deeply.

"Yeah, 'Mega," Steve replied as you squeezed him. "You feel so good," he ground out as his weight settled in his thrusts, his hands grasping your hips. His eyes bore into yours and you felt your body tingle as he began picking up his speed. You wanted what he was giving but you hadn't asked for it. He just knew.

It had never been like this with Colin. And the realisation of that should have filled you with guilt, but it didn’t. Instead, you felt nothing but a sense of completeness, like Steve was the missing piece to your very being. You had power over this Alpha, and the mere thought of that was enough to send you into overdrive, knowing that you could reduce him to his knees after being together for such a short period of time, it was a rush. A heady rush.

"Harder, Steve," the sound of his name breathily leaving your lips in the middle of a pant sent shivers over his skin and you felt the bumps across his neck, his whole body no doubt covered in them.

His eyes were dark, near black and you shivered. He pulled out of your warmth and you turned, quickly slipping off the edge of the desk your belly flat against the wooden grain. Your arm stretched over the desk in front of you. Papers, pens, whatever the hell else was in the way went scattering all over. Your hands were led flat against its surface and you were able to just barely wrap your fingers around the opposite edge. You were soaked and Steve slid right back in, his balls tapping your clit as he thrust into you. His hands grabbed at the rounded flesh of your ass as he pressed his chest down towards you. It was a near black out in a way, your mind numb to nothing but Steve and his scent, the felt of him inside you. Again, like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You could do nothing but conform to him and you found him conforming to you, once again bending to your needs without an utterance. “I love you,” his teeth nipped at your ear and you gave a groan as his beard scratched at your skin, his hips snapping back and forth. "I love you," you replied near breathless. “Mine…” his lips latched onto your neck, and you gave a loud keen of delight as he sucked at your skin. You managed to reach up and run your hand through his beard, over his ear and to the back of his head, holding him there. "Yes," you moaned.

You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher, the fog completely clouding your mind as he continued, his thrusts now fast, just deep enough to hit that spot inside you over and over. "Alpha...." you started to cry out as that dam was ready to break. “Come for me, ‘Mega.” His breath was hot on your neck and you felt your stomach starting to tighten. You gave him what he asked for, your walls squeezing around him as you fluttered with orgasm.

His hips sped up, as he ferociously chased his own end. His hands gripped your waist tightly whilst he slammed harder into you, stilling with as a loud groan, almost a howl, ripped from his chest. And then he nipped your neck, right over your now faded bonding mark from Colin.

It wasn’t deep enough to seal the deal, but it was enough to break the skin. No sooner had the sharp pain registered with your senses you felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and shock emanate from Steve as he pulled back. And then, that guilt and shock gave way to a wave of pain which washed over him "Fuck, I’m so sorry," he panted as he slipped away from you, quickly tucking himself back inside his jeans. "Oh Doll, sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

You pushed yourself up and turned round. Half naked and now facing him, your hand went to your neck as you felt the small trickle of blood against your hot skin. Your shirt felt to your hips as you stood, the dots of blood on your palm already dry. You took a step to him on shaky legs and he stepped back. “Alpha…” you carried on towards him and stumbled a tad, your head a little light from the excretion and Steve quickly wrapped on arm around you as you steadied yourself. “It’s okay,” your chest heaved as you looked into his eyes. He stared back at you with those sad and pained eyes, their blue shade now purely visible where black lust had consumed him. "I...." His nose sorrowfully dipped to your check as he nudged you. “Stop, please.” You whispered, your hand creeping into his soft hair at the back of his head, as you repeated your earlier assurances, “it’s okay.” He hadn't a word to say, rather he just softly kissed your wound and backed away, gathering your pants and boots. With a soft, silent movement he handed them to you and you dressed yourself as Steve quickly gathered the scattered stationery items from the floor, piling them back on the desk. You flopped onto the chair to pull on your boots and watched him, as he gave a sigh, his large hands resting on the desk. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head. He was ashamed, and it was killing you to see and feel. "Alpha....." you called out to him. "Steve...." His eyes slowly rose to look at you. "Please." “I almost lost control, I mean, so did lose control!” He exclaimed, shaking his head, “fuck, I…”

“Stop!” Your voice was loud, “stop it!” He obeyed and glanced at you, and you shook your head. "I love you," you whispered as you reached across the desk and cupped his bearded cheek, "I truly do." "I didn't mean to, I.. if you only knew how hard that was."

“I do,” you assured him, “I felt you, I felt your pain and struggle.” Your hand remained against his cheek, his beard soft in your palm. "I feel it every time you touch me. When you kiss me. When we...." "It gets harder and harder every time." He admitted. "Its been hard since I first saw you. I don’t understand why, I’ve never lost control, I just-“

"I don’t understand it either, but we're in it together and to be honest, to me, that's all that matters in my mind."

A silence fell over you both and you rose to your feet, walking round the desk towards him. He turned to face you and you reached for his hand.

"Hey, you guys in here?" Sam's voice sounded, interrupting your conversation. "Oh, there you are," he smirked as he came around the corner of the wall.

Steve looked at you quickly and then back at Sam. "We were," he cleared his throat, “just finishing up some of the paperwork.” “Yeah, sorry we were finishing up the paper work.” “Ah-huh, that what they call it nowadays?” Sam smirked and you felt your cheeks heat. “What’s up?” Steve asked and Sam simply chuckled. "Horses are sorted for the evening and we got some chow on. Pete made chili," he nodded towards the main house. “Oh, I was gonna make that.” You couldn’t help the little whine of petulance and both Steve and Sam looked at you.

“Yeah well Buck was hungry,” Sam scoffed, “and we all know what a nark he gets when his stomach ain’t full. Mind you, he’s had one on him all day.” “I noticed.” You sighed and Sam shot you an apologetic gaze. “Don’t take it personally.” “We’ll be right with you.” Steve nodded, and recognising it for the dismissal it was, Sam gave you both one last smug smirk before he left. “Let’s go eat, huh?” You looked at Steve. He gave you a soft smile, before he pressed a kiss to your lips and you were pleased you could feel him calming somewhat.

Together you made your way back to the house, hand in hand, and when you crossed the threshold you felt Steve fully relax as the energy from your friends surrounded you both. You each took your seats, Peter scuttling about as he set the bowls of chili out with the topping fixings scattered in little side dishes around the table. Sam stuck a beer in front of you both before taking his own seat next to Bucky. His mate seemingly still cranky just looked at him before settling into his meal.

As you ate, the members of the team who had met with Fury told the rest of you what had happened. It didn't settle with you, but what else were you to do. Steve had to have sensed your slight discomfort as his hand found yours in your lap. “Don’t worry,” he looked at you, “we’ve got everyone alert. If Hydra make another move we’ll know about it.”

You took a deep breath, and for some reason, something more pressing hit you in that moment; hunger. Your appetite still wasn’t sated. “Pete, is there anymore?” You asked a little hopefully, and he nodded eagerly. “Good?” “Yeah it’s great, and I’m still hungry. I’ve been eating all day.” From across the table, you heard Bucky scoff. His discomfort rolled off of him in a heady scent that smell sour to you. You recoiled a little and Steve looked at you, then his head slowly turned to Bucky and you heard a snarl roll in his throat. The table fell silent as the two Alphas locked gaze. You had no idea what was going on but you didn't like the looks the two best friends were throwing at one another. Steve stood, his chair scuffing the floor, "Don't Pal." “I think that’s our cue to leave,” you heard Banner mutter and seemingly everyone else agreed.

The kitchen diner was filled with the sounds of chair scraping as everyone stood to make a quick exit, and Sam hesitated.

“Steve, don't hurt him," he sighed. “Don’t worry,” Steve turned to look at the mild mannered Beta. “I just want to find out why he has a stick up his ass about my Omega all of a sudden.” With a final look at Bucky, who was still glaring at Steve, Sam followed the rest of the team out, leaving the three of you alone. “Steve…” you laid a hand on his arm. “Go upstairs, Y/N.” “But…”

“Now, Omega. That’s not a request.” You couldn't help the whiny whimper that came from you as you obeyed your Alpha. It was a pull to comply and one you couldn't resist despite the training you'd been getting. Steve’s eyes tracked you as you headed up the stairs and then he turned to Bucky. “Out with it.” "You've lost your God damned mind." “Why do you think that?” Steve’s tone remained calm, his hands resting on the buckle of his belt. “Can’t you see? Jesus, Steve! You’re… you know what, forget it.” Bucky went to walk off and out the door but Steve wasn't going to let him get away that easily. As he passed, Steve’s hand pulled on his shoulder. Only Bucky was quick too and he rounded on his friend. With a snarl, he shoved Steve hard in the chest. “Buck, what the hell has gotten into you?” Steve exclaimed as he pushed back, causing Bucky to stumble off the porch, his ass hitting the dirt. From across the yard, the team turned, and immediately they started back. The fall seemed to jolt Bucky out of whatever it was and he stood, his shaking his head as he held his hand up. “I’m sorry, I just… shit, Steve, can’t you sense it?” "No! Whatever it is, clearly I don't."

Both Alphas stared at each other as the team gathered round, none of them quite sure what to do. Steve could sense their confusion, they’d never seen him and Bucky argue like this before.

“Your Omega…”

“What about her?”

“She’s in a pre-heat, Steve.”

“No, she’s…I’d know.” Steve shook his head, “that’s…”

“Look, it’s making me feel funny and I’m bonded, so…” Bucky stepped off the porch and turned to him, “my guess is you got a couple of days, tops.”

Steve frowned, as he considered what Bucky had just said. And, as he stood there, things slowly slid into place. Things had certainly heated up between the pair of you, and your hunger had been off the scale. You’d also become far more interested in the little space he had in his living room by the widow seat, your favoured spot filled with cushions and blankets you liked to snuggle in to nap or read…

“Shit.” He sighed.

“Yeah, shit!” Bucky shook his head, “we don’t need this, not now! You’re gonna leave us short handed if Hydra decide to-“

“We don’t know they will…”

“Yeah, well, I do know that you’re gonna end up in rut, and be no use to any of us. So I’d start making contingency plans for when you’re unavailable.”

Bucky turned to go and Steve watched him for a moment, before he headed back inside. He’d barely closed the door behind him when you appeared at the top of the stairs, peering down at him cautiously.

“You’re anxious.” You whispered, “I can sense it.”

Steve took a deep breath, knowing it was pointless even trying to lie. Nor did he want to. “Yeah, I err…”

“What is it?” You blinked, watching as he took the stairs two at a time to meet you, “is it Bucky? Did I do something?”

“No, it’s…he thinks you’re in a pre-heat, and know I’ve thought about it, I agree with him,” Steve watched as your eyes grew wide and he sensed and overwhelming flutter of anxiousness and fear emanating from you.

“Heat, I can’t…” You shook your head, swallowing, “I’m on suppressants.”

“I know, but they work to an extent. If you’re persistently exposed to a strong Alpha, then they can stop having an effect. And lord knows, our Bond, it’s…”

“They can fail?” You whispered.

Steve frowned, “well, yeah. Didn’t anyone explain to you about their limitations?”

“No.” You mumbled, “they’re illegal in Hydra states. I only started taking them when I fled, I just assumed….”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Steve sighed, his head dropping a little. “I’m sorry, if I’d have known…”

“How long have I got?”

“Couple of days, I don’t know for sure.”

 “And you’ll, you’ll go into rut?”

“Most likely. Unless I leave and stay away until you’re done.”

“Leave me?” Your eyes grew wide.

“It’s an option.” Steve nodded. “I could stay with Stark if you want me to, well away.”

“I err, I don’t know,” you whispered, “Steve, I…I’m scared, and…”

“It’s okay.” Steve placated you, reaching out to gently pull you to him. “Just, let’s go to bed and we can talk about this properly in the morning.”

He felt you nod against his chest as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. You untangled yourself from him and he watched you head to the bedroom. Once you were gone, Steve let down the mental blocker he’d thrown up in the last minute or so and took a deep breath.

Whilst Bucky had been an asshole, he was right. A heat and a rut was the last thing either of you needed. He knew a breakthrough one was going to be painful for you, especially if you instructed him to stay away and had to ride it out yourself. That said, he understood your fear and trepidation. It was a well-known fact that Alphas could be feral during an Omega’s heat, often bonding the one they were with in the throes of a rut induced lust.

And given what had happened today in the barn, Steve wasn’t sure willpower alone would be enough to enable him to fight the natural predisposition, which had been ingrained in every single Alpha since the start of time.

With his hands on his hips, he glanced down at Commando who lazily looked at him, his tail thumping lazily against the rug. Steve arched his brow and suddenly found himself wishing he was a dog, lie would be a hell of a lot more simple.

**** Chapter 8

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 35. better in no time.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

“I know it’s not ideal,” Bucky mumbles almost bashfully as he locks the door shut behind the three of us after we’ve entered the small, rundown apartment he’s lead us to in a little Romanian town. “But it’s the safest place I know of. I was never found here. I always told myself, even in New York, if I ever needed a place to come back to… this would be it.” My eyes scan the space, taking in the sight of the place my best friend spent so much time hiding away from the world in. The main room at the front consists of a small kitchenette, along with a little round dining table. A couch and a set of old armchairs sit in front of an ancient-looking television. The far wall breaks off into a small hallway holding two doors, what I’m guessing might be a bed and bathroom. “There’s only one bed,” he adds. “You guys can take it. I slept most nights on the couch, anyway.”

Walking up to the set of windows beside the kitchen counters, I run my hand over the thin newspaper sheets that cover them from top to bottom. “I would say these seem suspicious, but this is normal around here, right?” I ask in regards to the window coverings. Bucky nods.

“It’s a quiet town. People like their privacy here,” he tells me as he walks over to the green couch, lowering himself down onto the sagging cushions. “There’s a market in town with food. I left some of my stuff here, clothes and whatever; I assume it’ll still be here. It’s not too hard to disguise yourself. Not like anyone here will be looking for us, though.”

“And we have… protection?” I ask, hoping we won’t regret the decision of leaving all weapons on board the jet.

“Two guns under the sink in the bathroom,” he responds. “Never had to use ‘em. Hoping to keep it that way.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Willa shrinking back slightly against the front door, peering around with frightened eyes. I have to admit, Bucky was right: this isn’t ideal at all. I hate to think that things escalated between Tony and I so much that we ended up here. If he would’ve been willing to listen, to overlook his ego and face the fact that he was wrong, we could’ve worked things out. While I know we have everything we need to survive here, it still doesn’t feel right. This isn’t where Willa belongs. She should be back in New York with her new friends, her new family.

“Willa-bug, let’s have Bucky take a look at you, yeah?” I murmur. The little girl tenses more at my words, her big green eyes pleading with me silently.

Taking a few steps towards the child, I offer her my hand. Willa eyes it warily before accepting, allowing me to lead her over to the couch beside my friend. I take a seat beside him, patting my lap for the girl to join me. She hesitates, an unintentional pout forming its way onto her rosy face. “Was I bad? Don’t hurt me,” she worries.

“No, you weren’t bad,” I assure her, “you’re okay; there’s no need to be afraid. Buck’s just gonna have a look at your face, sweetheart. That’s all.” Willa keeps her eyes locked on me, waiting a few more moments before giving in and climbing up onto my lap. Turning her around by her shoulders, I position her so that her back is up against my front and wrap my arms around her lovingly. Bucky turns to us as I turn inward as well, giving him a better view. His eyes land gently on the little girl and she cowers back into me, letting out a frightened huff of air through her nose.

“Wait, p-please-” she rushes out, her head turning frantically from side to side. “Bad? Didn’t mean t-to, will do better- please.”

“No baby, not bad. You’re okay, you’re alright, doll,” I hum softly, rubbing a hand over her unburnt shoulder in a soothing manner.

“I just wanna check and make sure Steve didn’t miss anything on the jet,” Bucky explains patiently, reaching a hand up towards her scorched cheek. To his despair, the child lurches back at this, squeezing her eyes shut.

“D-don’t hit me,” she pleads.

“Never, bunny. I won’t ever hurt you, never ever,” he swears, running his eyes carefully over the burns. “They’re bad, but they’ll heal,” he notes. “Hopefully when all of this is over, Bruce can see her again and do his thing. I had a lot of marks I thought I’d carry forever coming out of Hydra, but… that guy works wonders.” I nod, silently wondering if it’ll actually ever end. It doesn’t seem likely that we’d be stuck here forever, but after all I’ve been through, I guess I can’t ever be sure of anything anymore. “I’m going to run to the market and pick up some groceries. Anything in particular you need?” Bucky asks the both of us. Willa stays quiet, settling back into my embrace. I think for a minute, shrugging.

“Fruit would be a good idea. I don’t suppose you have a blender around here, do you?” I ask doubtfully. My friend shakes his head.

“No, but there’s an electrics shop I can check. They’ve probably got those kinds of kitchen gadgets,” he responds. “I’ve got my phone on me, so just call if anything comes to mind.” I nod and he stands, turning and leaving out the front door without another word.

Standing up, I collect Willa into my arms, copying Bucky’s steps to the door. I gingerly slide the lock shut once again, pulling out my phone from my pocket. Walking over to the kitchen with Willa on my hip, I pull up my text conversation with Bucky. As efficiently as I can with just one thumb, I type out a quick message and hit send before setting the little girl down on the counter beside the sink.

Steve: Text when you’re back and I’ll come let you in. Don’t want to take any chances. Be safe out there.

Within a matter of moments, a response appears.

Bucky: Ok boomer.

Furrowing my eyebrows at the line, I pull up an internet tab, beginning to type in the phrase: ’What is a boo-“ when a little voice catches my attention.

"Juice?” Willa asks innocently. Switching my phone off, I look around the kitchen before turning back to her with a frown.

“I don’t have anything to make you juice with right now, sweetheart; I’m sorry. Bucky’s out grabbing it, though, so you can have some as soon as he gets back. Okay?” The girl nods, turning and looking at the sink.

“W-water?” she asks hesitantly, as if I might be angry at her for making another request.

Softening my expression, I nod with a smile. “Of course you can have water. Let me find you a cup,” I say, beginning to rummage through the cabinets and drawers. Finally, in the cabinet above the fridge, I find a set of glasses. Taking one out, I return to the sink and fill it with water. “Here you go, kiddo,” I offer. Willa takes the glass from me with a grateful nod and holds it nervously, the sturdy kitchenware dwarfing her tiny hands. “Sorry we don’t have any of your sippy-cups,” I add with another frown.

The child raises the glass to her lips and takes a few swallows, her hands beginning to tremble violently before finally the glass slips out of her grasp entirely and drops to the floor, shattering across the white tile. Willa’s eyes grow wide, darting up to look at me.

“M-m- I-I- p-p-please,” she blurts out before I can say anything to reassure her. “W-wait, please- I-I-…” Her chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as tears begin pouring from her eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay, it was just an accident,” I murmur gently, holding my hands out in front of me to show her I’m not going to harm her. “You’re not in trouble. I should’ve known the glass was too big and heavy.”

“S-sorry, will c-clean it up- d-didn’t mean to, please-” She begins to lean down to jump off the counter towards the mess, but I reach out in front of her to stop her, causing her to flinch back sharply, a terrified whine coming from her throat. The frightened girl’s eyes squeeze shut briefly, anticipating a swing.

“Hey, hey, easy, Willa. It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of it, okay? I don’t want you to cut yourself on the glass,” I soothe. Willa gazes down with teary eyes at the tile and stays frozen, not wanting to disobey.

Going back into one of the cabinets I searched earlier, I pull out a dustpan. Keeping my movements slow, I crouch down onto the ground, a sharp pain rising from my knee. “Shit,” I curse under my breath, looking down to see that a jagged shard has sliced through my skin. I quickly brush all of the glass into the pan, making sure to check all around the area before standing up again and disposing of the garbage into the bin. Returning to the counter, I run the sink, wetting my fingers and rinsing off my knee gingerly.

“You- it’s- you’re bleeding?” Willa’s little voice asks warily. I turn and look at her again, tears now running silently down her face.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m okay,” I assure her quickly, heartbroken at the sight of her crying.

“G-got hurt. ’m really sorry,” she sniffles.

“It’s alright, honey. I’m okay. It’s just a little cut, doll. I’m super tough; I’m sure it’ll heal up in no time.”

What happens next catches me totally off guard. An unfamiliar look builds in Willa’s eyes as she reaches out slowly, placing a shaking hand on my arm. Before I know it, the sharp stinging sensation from my leg is gone. The little girl in front of me tenses, a pained expression forming on her face. Faintly, a purplish-red mark forms on Willa’s own knee.

“Wait- no, sweetheart-” I stutter out, but it’s too late. The child gazes up fearfully at me as I wrap my arms around her, causing her to jump slightly before relaxing into my hold.

“You’re okay,” she whispers to me, her voice imitating the soothing sing-songy tone I use when trying to comfort her. “Y-you’re okay.”

“You don’t have to do that, honey; you never have to do that. Please don’t,” I beg, burying my face in her apple-scented hair.

Willa hiccups slightly against me, and her next line seems to slip out before she can think to stop it. “You’re okay. All better, Daddy.”

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[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 12: What Happens in Alleyways

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Sorry it's a lil short, it's more of a transition chapter to actually jumping into this case and Reader's now even more confusing "relationship" with Hotch. Things get kinkier and angrier and more explicit from here, but I'll do my best to tag stuff. Thanks for your patience as always, guys, especially amidst the dumpster fire that is current events right now <3 Your reblogs and tags slay me and I love it.

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Turns out, the world doesn't stop on its axis just because you had sex with your boss. You’re unsure whether or not that’s a good thing.

Words: 1,882

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Violence, dark themes, explicit sexual content. More specific warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You awoke to the dim light of the dawn, rain gently pattering on the windows, and the blaring sound of Hotch’s ringtone three feet from your face.

“Jesus christ, old man,” you groaned, blinking your eyes open, “turn your hearing aids up.”

Already sitting up in bed, he paused with the phone halfway to his ear.

Shit. You were being too casual - waking up in his bed, joking with him. Acting like you belonged there. You didn’t know how he felt about what happened, for all you knew he regretted every second and-

“You’re paying for that later,” he smiled before answering the call.

The playful threat filled you with relief before it made your stomach flip, and the memories of last night came flooding back. His body, his eyes, his hands all burned inside your eyelids as if you’d been staring directly at the sun. You’d never been in this situation before - waking up next to someone you’d spent the night with and desperately hoping it was the first time rather than the last. But you’d also never felt your body sing with the white-hot pleasure it did when it was touched by the seemingly unattainable man who did so last night, so. There was that.

The low rumble of his voice brought you back to the present, and you looked up at his face to find it was twisted up in concentration, resignation, and something else.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, standing up swiftly and pulling his work clothes on with practiced speed. “Don’t let anyone touch anything.”

He shoved his phone in his suit pocket and looked at you, still tangled up in his sheets.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he said, terse. “There’s a body in the alley outside the building.”

“Outside this building?”

“Yes,” he responded, “and there’s a note.”

As he swept out the door, leaving you reeling, you realized what the other expression on his face was. Fear.

***

Hotch had gotten ready and exited the apartment before you had even processed the situation, and your mind was racing a mile a minute as you flung yourself out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. The logical assumption, of course, was that the stalker had left the body. People didn’t just end up dead in alleyways in this part of town, and certainly not in the middle of a rainstorm mere floors from where the BAU Unit Chief slept - not without a reason.

You threw on your coat and boots, forgoing contacts and makeup in favor of your glasses and a hat to cover the tangled mess last night’s tryst had made of your hair. Without even pausing to look in a mirror, you scurried down the stairwell and exited the lobby into the cold October wind.

It was easy to tell which alley the body occupied - there were an excess of thirty people milling in and out of the space to the right of the building. Crime scene investigators, policemen, and other personnel talked in hushed voices. You spotted a clearing in the sea of people and knew that’s where the victim would be, given a wide berth per Hotch’s instruction.

The team hung out at the edge of the circle watching Reid, who was kneeling in front of the body slumped against the side of the apartment building. Moving closer, you could tell he was in the middle of one of his spiels, gesturing wildly while the everyone nodded along. You joined the group that had formed around him and caught the middle of what seemed to be a hypothesis about victimology.

“ -no patterns, obviously, but if we assume similar characteristics would be present in all his victims, it’s hard to discern what statement he could be making. Positing a male in his mid-to-late twenties is statistically most likely, but stalkers of this age group also frequently have some sort of sexual motivation, and if the autopsy is consistent with what we can observe now,” he gestured to the body, “I don’t think that’s the case here.”

Throughout his speech, you’d been scrutinizing the victim - a brunette women who looked to be no older than 20, arranged in a half-sitting position against the wall behind her. There was no blood anywhere you could see, in fact, she barely looked dead at all, likely thanks to the below-freezing temperatures last night that had put a pause on the early stages of decomposition. Pinned to her shirt was a white envelope that bore an ominous message in bold, black ink:

“For my friends at the BAU.”

Not hard to guess who had killed this woman.

“Can you determine cause of death, Spence?” Prentiss asked, her arms folded.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess…” he used his pen to push the victim’s hair to the side, exposing a neck mottled with stark blue bruises. 

“Anger, then,” you offered, speaking to the psychological drivers behind strangulation, “but I doubt we’ll find any sign of sexual assault. The unsub made it clear that his disdain is directed towards us; it’s not likely that would extend to his victim.”

The rest of the team nodded in thought, but Hotch looked at you in surprise, as if just noticing your presence. As his eyes glued on yours, his face changed, and he grabbed your arm in an unpleasantly tight grip.

“Open the note. I’ll just be a moment.”

Unaware of his boss’ sudden change in demeanor and the vice on your elbow, Morgan gloved up and reached for the envelope. Hotch, meanwhile, unceremoniously dragged you down the alleyway and around to the deserted back side of the building.

“What the hell?” you hissed, yanking your arm out of his grip.

“Did you fail to look in a mirror before you came down here?” Hotch’s narrowed stare betrayed nothing but contempt, and you scrambled to determine the implication of his question.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to take a shower before looking at the dead body? I did the best I could, it seemed urgent -”

“No,” he snapped, “I’m referring to the fact that your neck looks worse off than our victim’s does.”

You processed his words for a moment before the implication hit you.

“Are you talking about the hickies?! Christ, Hotch, I’ll get a scarf then. Just give me a second!”

“Please do. I’d like my agents to appear professional, not like they’re college kids coming off a one night stand.”

His words halted your stomp back into the building, and you turned back, furious.

“You put them there! How is this my fault?”

“I didn’t think I would have to be this explicit about the fact that I don’t want the fact that we had sex last night broadcast to everyone at the crime scene.”

You gaped at him in disbelief.

“Are you embarrassed or something? I’m sorry if you regret what happened, but you don’t need to lash out at me like this -”

“I’m not lashing out,” he interrupted, “I’m informing you of my expectations for my agents. Is there a problem?”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to smack that perfectly raised eyebrow and controlled expression right off his face. But he was boxing you in - speaking to you as your boss and not the man you slept with last night, and as much as you hated him for it, your sense of self-preservation won out.

“There’s no problem,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact as you slipped past him and around the building.

You made it halfway up the stairwell before the tears started flowing. Had you really thought sleeping with him was going to change something? That he was going to ask you to be his fucking girlfriend, like he wasn’t the chief of your unit and you weren’t a twenty-something intern? For all you knew, he did this all the time. His level of skill in the area certainly made it seem like he did.

That wasn’t true, though, you knew it. He may not reveal much, but you could tell it had been a fraught decision to let your relationship develop the way it had. Perhaps even a decision he regretted now - and it certainly seemed so, given his behavior.

Wiping tears on your sleeve, you fumbled with the spare key he’d given you to his apartment and walked in. You glanced in the mirror by the entrance and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. Hotch wasn’t exaggerating when he likened the marks to strangulation - indigo smudges, still peppered with the angry red of burst capillaries, circled your throat.

It was a juvenile, possessive, ridiculous display, and Hotch was absolutely right to label it unprofessional. And yet, the thought that you’d walked onto the scene bearing the marks he’d given you filled you with a thrill so intense you had to brace yourself against the entryway table and clamp your legs together.

Breathe. There’s still a fucking murder scene downstairs.

You steadied yourself and headed for your duffel bag, where you’d thankfully packed a scarf in preparation for the cold snap that was predicted to hit the state this week. Midway through unzipping your bag, though, your eyes landed on his dresser and the devil sitting on your shoulder, buzzing with a deadly combination of anger and arousal, whispered a terrible, reckless idea in your ear.

***

You practically skipped downstairs to rejoin the team, who appeared to be engaged in a lively debate about the contents of the envelope Morgan was holding. After gloving up, you reached out a hand towards him.

“Can I read it?”

He handed it over, distracted by another stream of consciousness from Reid. Hotch took note of your return and glanced in your direction before turning back to the conversation.

You pretended to read the note and waited for him to notice.

You waited all of three seconds.

He whipped his head back so comically fast you struggled to suppress a snort, and you knew exactly what he was looking at. A midnight blue cashmere scarf, nicked from his dresser and wrapped artfully around your neck to cover the bruises, just like he’d asked. The first compliment you’d ever paid him was in regards to this scarf; tentatively whispered when he’d worn it to a chilly 2 am crime scene. He’d accepted the compliment passively, but the optimistic part of you had noted that he seemed to wear it much more frequently after that.

You weren’t entirely sure what statement you were intending to make by wearing it, but his reaction told you you’d certainly succeeded at provoking something.

Morgan reached back out for the note you were still pretending to read and dropped it in an evidence bag. If he noticed Hotch steaming from the ears next to you, he didn’t say so.

“They’re ready to pack everything up and head back to the lab. Let’s meet ‘em there?”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative and headed back to the SUVs.

“You riding with me?” Morgan asked, nudging your ribs with an elbow.

“No,” Hotch answered for you, an unseen hand suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “She’s not.”

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[beskarberry]

The Most Dangerous Game

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 7, Book Two Prologue

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

“Above you the black hole where his eyes should be turned down to you, tilting slightly with a questioning roll. You reached up and slid your own armor to the top of your head so that he could see your face. “The bounty pucks can wait, right?” He nodded, and you bared your teeth in a vicious, bloodthirsty grin. “Then let's. Go. Hunting.”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9k

Content warnings: Absurd amounts of domestic fluff, Mando and Reader being adorable, killing Imps for fun, sex outdoors, a smidge of voyeurism, dirty talk, praise kink.

A/N: This chapter is the springboard for the rest of book two, though it was mostly just an excuse for me to write them being cute together before I chuck them back into the nuclear disaster that is a hunters life. Enjoy!

<-Previous Next->

You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that you were being watched, but it wasn’t a threat whose eyes you had captured.

 Deep within the empty underbelly of Nevarro you were pretending to be asleep, listening to the breathing of the one that shared your bed. It was fast enough that you knew Din was awake, and the feel of his gaze on you was making it difficult to keep a straight face. You breathed slowly, doing your best impression of unconsciousness while a roving hand moved leisurely over your side. The Mandalorian’s strong body was pressed tightly against your back, his nose buried in your hair, fanning warm puffs of steam against your scalp. In your own arms the foundling was curled in a little ball in his favorite spot against your chest while your hands gently rubbed his ears. An amorous rumble against your spine and a long, deep sigh behind your head told you that the jig was up.

“Do you know you hum in your sleep, cyare?”

“Well good morning to you too, bucket boy.” You arched against his chest, reveling in the way the arms on either side of you tightened and a contented hum vibrated along your back. “What’s for breakfast?”

A sleepy laugh reverberated in your ear before soft kisses made their way to your temples. “It’s always about breakfast with you, isn’t it, riduur’ika?”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, don'tcha know that?” You tilted your head so that his lips could get to your cheeks, the scrape of bristles prickling your skin. “Plus I’m sure Little Beans is hungry.” In your arms the green bundle yawned and stretched before his enormous eyes flickered open, ready to greet the brave new day. A soft purring chirp told you that you were right in your assumption, “See? Baby needs breakfast.”

Your partner sighed behind you and started to pull his arms free of your body so that he could prop himself up, peppering your face with kisses. You rolled from your side onto your back, letting him get to both of your cheeks before he found your lips again. His soft mouth against yours broke into a wide grin, and you let your eyes open to meet him at last. Part of you had believed that you had dreamt the previous evening, that the vicious haunt of hyperspace had left you stark-raving mad; but when you met those warm, honey-dark eyes of his you beamed right back at him. There he was, in all his early morning glory, a mop of bed head sticking to his brow and the red streaks of sleep scars denting his face. Somebody slept damn good.

The foundling clawed gently at your side, and you both turned your attention to the bug-eyed creature you both adored. Din let his weight fall onto you before reaching out to pull the child close to your smushed bodies, giving the green terror a fuzzy-lipped kiss. “Is that right, womp rat? You hungry?” The child gibbered and patted his papa’s bare face. “Alright, if you say so.” Din nuzzled the baby again, then kissed you deeply before tapping his brow to your forehead. He rolled off of you with a groan, making sure to squish you with his weight before sitting up on the edge of the bed, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the vicious scars of his back. He stretched his long arms, and the light patches of healed skin practically danced in the dim light of the dorm, bidding you to touch them. You lazily let your hand drop against him, and the slight flinch from the mighty warrior made you laugh. 

“You’re going to have to get used to being touched, tin man.”

He fixed you with a playful glare, “Not if I want to stay alive.”

“So you’ll wed and bed me but you don’t trust me not to kill you? It was your idea!” You razzed, poking at his kidneys with pretend death blows and making him keel sideways to save himself from your assault. 

“Hey now! You asked me to!” He caught your quizzical expression, recalling that you knew nothing of your accidental proposal. He lugged his helmet up off the ground where it had sat for the night, the opalescent beast teeth still sitting pretty in the indents of its cheeks."Mandalorians decorate the helmets of the ones they...that they want to riduurok." Din said shyly, pointing at one jewel: “Will you,” then the other, “marry me, clear as the fangs on my face. How could I say no?” 

“Are you kidding me!?” You burst into laughter, if only you had known! You could have spared yourself so much heartache with the knowledge that you weren’t getting left behind after all, maybe even have saved yourself the ordeal of space-mares. “You’re telling me that I proposed to you? Why didn’t you tell me so!” You were sitting upright now, the foundling at your side, watching his buir with confusion. 

Din set the helmet on his knees, hunching his shoulders and shaking his head. “I-I didn’t...I didn’t want you t-to… to leave me. Didn’t want to make you frightened...”

“Oh sure, but dropping to your knees and asking me to keep you or kill you is fine and dandy, huh rustbucket?” You chucked a balled-up blanket at him, making him hop up from the bed to run away from you. “You’re lucky that you’re cute and you’ve got a nice ass.”

He cocked a brow at you from the other side of the room, crossing his arms in mock indignation. “Is that the only thing you like about me, cyar’ika?”

You covered the foundling’s super-sized ears, unsure of how much Basic he actually understood. “You got a fat cock, too!”

The glare you got from your unarmored companion had you howling with laughter, and you flopped back on the pile of furs that was masquerading as a bed next to the bewildered foundling. A poor choice, your tender belly was now exposed, and agile hands found your sensitive middle to tickle you with a fury. The other hunter threw his legs over you to keep you from squirming away while he poked at your tummy until tears pricked at your eyes. “You’re too mouthy, cyare!”

“Stop! Stah- Ah! Stoppit! Fuckin’ hell I give, I give!” Your muscles twitched hard in your middle, trying to protect your guts from his roughhousing. Din pinned your arms down at your sides, flashing you a brilliant, boyish smile. 

“So easily? How disappointing.” 

“I’d watch my back if I were you, tinman.” A fierce kiss nipped at your lips before you were released from his torturing grasp. Free of you, Din began pulling his gear on, and you tried to take a mental note of the order that his equipment was donned, but the leather and beskar flew to his body like magnets, and he was fully dressed in short order. “Boooo! Hisss!” He found his helmet again and plucked the radiant jewels from their recesses, tucking the finery into the pocket behind his chest plate. Their disappearance made you a bit sad now that you knew their true meaning, but you knew that there was no way he could keep the bling on his beskar for all to see. 

He saw your frown and shrugged. “They’re still good luck, even if you can’t see them, right?”

“Right!” You hopped up from the bed, stealing one last kiss from his bare face before the helmet sank back into place with a hiss of its latches; and the familiar visor was staring back at you again. You pulled your discarded clothes from the floor, shaking everything out before dressing yourself. Glittering on the floor by your feet was your new mask, and you quickly hooked the electromagnetic ear cuffs on, excited to wear your betrothal gift. In the corner of your eye you could see Mando watching you, relishing in the sight of you adorning yourself with his cultural armor, and you cocked him a sly grin before sliding the cool metal down over your face. The visor flickered to life, and a hot slew of color washed over your eyes. 

“Ok so… night vision, thermal tracking, infrared, ultra violet… Are any of these filters just regular sight, or is this how everything looks to you all the time?” You flipped through the settings of your engagement present, taking in your surroundings through a kaleidoscope of colors. Heat vision cycled again to your eyes, and you saw the hot red bloom in the center of your riduur’s chest, tendrils of heat coursing over to his extremities. You watched as the human fireball sauntered up to you, and the sound of leather brushing against metal scratched loudly in your audio processors as he flipped a secret switch, disabling the extrasensory equipment. “Thanks, that’s better.”

“Takes getting used to.” You wished mandos kept mirrors on hand, you could only see how you looked in the reflection of his visor, and though the image was warped, it was still formidable. A soft leather-clad hand wrapped around the back of your head, pulling you to his helmet in the familiar motion of affection you had grown to love; but the sound of beskar on beskar didn’t donk like it did with a skull, it chimed. Sweet, soft ringing like bells in the wind instead of the hollow thud of meat and bone, and you couldn’t help but gasp. No wonder he liked doing it so often. The low rumble that followed told you that he heard your quiet exclamation, and was laughing at you fondly. “Did you hear it?” You nodded and knocked your forehead against him a second time, chasing the sound of the bells, but the hand behind your head hugged you tightly to stop you from trying a third. “Beskar laar, ironsong. I’ll ring that bell for you every day, cyare, but I think someone is getting impatient.”

You looked behind you to where the foundling was trying to climb off the side of the bed onto his stubby little legs. Mando strode past you to scoop the short green thing up off the ground, holding him so that he faced outwards toward you. You ran your hand over his ears and patted his fuzzy head before hunting for your bag. It was the only thing you had brought with you from the Crest, and you were determined to steal a couple of extra towels and a good chunk of your favorite soap before returning to your Iron Mistress. With a full bag and a full heart, you and your clan made your way up to the surface world.

It was a bright, smokey morning on the surface of Nevarro, and two ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket walked through the decimated streets of the city that bore the same name as its planet in search of supplies, but most of the store fronts were still closed. Construction was happening on all sides, the ash and dust of the Imperial siege being cleared away to be made anew. Takes getting used to was an understatement, and not just because of the flashy detection equipment or the weight of the armor on your face, that was negligible; but what was making you the most uncomfortable was that you were getting stared at. The townsfolk were used to the destructive tendencies of the Mandalorians, stoic hunters that could go from silent to explosive in the blink of an eye, as made obvious by the sad state of the city streets. You, however, weren’t used to being noticed by anyone, but now people were desperately trying to get out of your way; and you weren’t sure if that made you feel powerful, or monstrous. 

“Mando, how much did we make on the other three bounties?” Your hush money was running thin, and if you were going to restock your supplies and get off this lump of charcoal, you would need some extra cash.

“We left before I was able to collect, but I doubt there will be anything for us after Karga pays off the debt of your lost warrant. You were supposed to be brought in alive.”

“Well fuck, I guess we better go see if he’ll pony up some credits for us to get our shit and get out of here.” The cantina was just a few blocks over, and the three of you made your way to the low domed building that served as the town’s central hub. When you reached the saloon, you caught sight of the Guild agent through the window, and you knocked hard enough on it to shake the soot from the dirty transparisteel. “Karga! Hey, Karga!” He could barely see you as it was, the volcanic ash of Nevarro built up thick on the low window sill, but when he turned his attention to the sound of his name, you could see him furrow his brow. The old agent squinted at you and cocked his head, unable to tell who was beckoning him through the grime, and you pointed at your shiny new face and waved. You saw an eyebrow raise, then both fly upwards when he put two and two together, followed by a face so shocked you wished you could snap a holo of it and display it on the wall of the Crest. You made a series of obscene gestures with your hands, pointing at yourself and the Mandalorian that was coming up behind you before finally walking into the cantina. 

The other hunters moved aside quickly, having learned their lesson about the bite of beskar, and slinked off to the far corners of the room. You couldn’t help the swagger with which you walked, taking all the time in the world to approach the usual business booth. Karga only watched as your trio approached, unable to tear his eyes off of the streaking silver that now covered your face. You plopped down heavily on the tattered seat, scooting over so that your partner could squeeze in next to you. Having an armored face gave you an amazing new feeling of concealment, and behind your mask you were grinning like a nexu at the stunned expression of the agent sitting across from you; just waiting for him to find his words. He pointed to you, hovering just a little too long before pointing at Mando, then back at you with more flurried brows. 

“You...”

“Yep.”

“And him…?” 

“Uh huh.”

“So now you’re…?”

“You almost got it, Kargsy.”

He leaned back heavily in his seat before slamming down on the tabletop. “Preposterous! I mean... I was only joking, I didn’t really think…wait a second, you didn’t even invite me?!” You knew your face was hidden, but the way your shoulders jostled gave away your stifled laugh. “How could you?! After all I’ve done for you two! Oh what am I saying! We should be celebrating! Crazy damn hunters...” The agent did nothing to hide his belly shaking laughter, waving at the bartending droid to fetch some drinks, though the only one at the table that would be drinking would certainly be himself. Three glasses and a jug of too-early-in-the-morning spotchka clanked to the table, and you felt your guts flip-flop unhappily at the sight of the vile brew. Greef poured himself a glass, then hesitated to pour a second. “So, are you like Mando now? Can’t show your face? How does that work exactly?” Good question. You turned to Din, who only shrugged and rolled his unadorned helmet. 

“You’re not bound to the creed, you’re only bound to me. Do as you please.” You weren’t exactly planning on imbibing anyway, but the way he spoke so brazenly about your bond made you flush warm under the beskar, and maybe keeping it on for now was a good idea. You shrugged, it was a good enough excuse to turn down the luminous liquor that you couldn’t forget the taste of fast enough. The Guild agent put down the spotchka jug after having only filled one glass, and sipped slowly at the glowing drink. 

“Unbelievable. Couldn’t even send me a card, and after I set you two up!” The snap of both your visors on him made him jump. “Now you’re ganging up on me!” He started to top his glass back up, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. “So, what can I do you two lovebirds for?”

You ignored the sass behind the term of endearment, “How much is left of our credits?”

Karga scoffed. “Left? There’s nothing left! Those three bounties put together barely covered the cost of the damages to that transport unit you blew up. You’re lucky I’m such a smooth talker or I would have gone bankrupt! If you want more credits, you’re going to have to take on new jobs.”

Fantastic, so much for taking time off. You looked at Mando and made an ‘I’m sorry’ grimace at him, forgetting that he couldn’t see you under the beskar. He must have gotten the hint though, because his shoulders went stiff and a long, drawn-out sigh leaked from his modulator. Nothing escaped Karga’s ears at this booth, and he frowned at the two of you before turning his attention to the child that floated at the end of the table. Baby beans was just watching, his eyes darting between everyone in the group, probably remembering the last time the three adults sat together and how poorly it had gone. Greef made silly faces at the baby before turning back to the two hunters. “I’ll tell you what, as my gift to you newlyweds and your adorable magic baby, I’ll pay for your fuel, but nothing else!”

“That’ll work! Alright, Kargsy, whatcha got for us?” You were pleased with yourself that you had negotiated at least part of your travel costs away, but a heavy leather hand found your leg under the table, reminding you that you made decisions as a team now, and you briefly worried that you were getting ahead of your tinman. The warm pads of his fingers squeezed and thumbed at your leg, and you realized he wasn’t trying to stop you from picking bounties, he was getting excited, barely able to contain himself at the prospect of taking out new targets together. It’s what you did, after all.

“Well, first things first, I can’t give you any pucks, you’re supposed to be dead, remember? I can only give jobs to the living, Guild restrictions and all.” Karga fished a chain code reader from his voluminous robes and brought your information up on its holopad, and instead of the usual ghostly blue of the living, your picture was a harsh red haze, the word DECEASED blinking over your eyes. “I can start you a new registration profile, Mrs. Mando, but I’m going to need a name.” You rolled your eyes at the jibe, though the thought of having to rename yourself hadn’t actually crossed your mind. You couldn’t exactly put down Djarin, though that was your surname now, so you would have to come up with an alias. Hmm…

You stared at the keyboard of the reader, running through old nicknames and people you once knew, maybe even the names of racehounds you had once bet on; but the hand that was resting on your leg came up from the table and pulled the device closer. Mando poked something out on the keyboard with his pointer fingers, and in the holopad the word <<TRA’LAAR>> glimmered back at you over top of an image of your masked face.

“What does that mean?” you asked softly, feeling the gloved hand of your husband return to your knee after he pushed the reader back to you. The Mandalorian turned to you with a gentle tilt of his visor, something you had learned was liken to a smile.

“Starsong. Is...is that ok?”

Starsong. You nodded quickly, it was perfect. Across the table the Guild agent looked like he was going to lose his spotchka, disgusted with the two of you being so cute. Karga shook his head with a strained laugh, then dealt out a handful of pucks to the two living hunters. He went through one after the other, explaining their crimes and their credit rewards and last known locations. Most of them weren’t fantastic, plenty of bail jumpers and a handful of assault charges that might prove fun to hunt, but not anything that would prove a real challenge. Next to you Mando nodded along, but under the table his hand inched higher up your thigh with each new option, the handsy warrior making you blush under your own beskar until you reached down to halt his advances. Strong fingers locked between yours, his thumb rolling over the back of your hand and distracting you from the hunt options being laid before you. Here you were trying to do your jobs, but even work couldn't convince him to stay off of you. You jumped when Karga cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

“Well, whatcha think, Mando? You wanna pick two and I’ll pick two?” He nodded beside you, squeezing and letting go of your hand to absently grab two pucks off the table and pull them towards you without so much as a second glance. You made to follow suit, but the second both your hands were above the countertop, Din’s heavy paw fell right back to your thigh, deviously close to their apex. Heat flushed your face, stinging against the cool of your beskar, and you picked up two random pucks from the pile. Across from you, Karga watched you both make your decisions with tongue in cheek and eyebrows raised, a look that you knew meant you had made some strange choices; but he just shrugged, already having decided that the two of you were crazy. 

“Interesting.” Greef pulled the accompanying blinker fobs to the table, clearing away the disregarded pucks back into his many pockets. “Alright you two, I’ll have your ship filled and you can get on your way.”

“No droids near my ship, have the porters do it.”

Karga laughed, “Of course not, Mando, I don’t have that much of a death wish, especially not after yesterday.” The old Guild agent sighed, “You two behave now, you hear?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, but under the table your armored companion was doing just the opposite, following the inside of your leg until he was groping at your mound, sliding a leather pad over where your slit pushed against the duraweave. Insatiable!

“You got it, thanks for the gas!” You smacked Mando’s pauldron, kicking him off of you as well as the booth. “Beans, say bye-bye to uncle Kargsy.” The child waved as his floating pram turned and ghosted along behind you out the cantina door. Though the bar had food on hand, it left much to be desired, and street vendor delectables were calling your nose. Townspeople skirted out of your way as you followed the smell of much-needed breakfast, but you ignored them to grill your companion. “Mando! You’re lucky he was focused on the bounties and not your wandering hands, or he woulda kicked our asses to the curb.” The metal mountain shrugged, shaking his helmeted head quickly as if he was bemused by the idea of getting caught.

Corellian bloodhound must have run in your veins, because you were able to sniff out an early morning bakery and caf-roaster, and the savory aroma had your mouth watering behind your armor. The whites of the vendor’s eyes were showing as the two of you approached, and even without any of your visual equipment running, you could see him pale at the sight of your mighty trio. You knew by the look on his face that if you wanted to eat, you would need to play nice. “Good morning, could I get-”

“J-just take it! Take whatever you want! P-please don’t hurt me!” The frightened merchant backpedaled from the stand, throwing their hands over their face for protection. Part of you wanted to lift your mask to assure them that you weren’t exactly Mandalorian, but thought better of it and pulled a handful of credits from your pocket, setting down what you thought the price might be for three pastries and a thermos of caf. The vendor stayed huddled away from the stand as your crew continued on its way, and you tried to shrug off the glares you were getting while you wrapped two of the pastries up and stuffed them in your bag for you and Din to eat later. Beans took his breakfast eagerly, being his gross, adorable self as he chowed down in his hovercrib. 

“Damn Mando, is it like that for you all the time?” The hunter nodded, but said nothing. “That fucking blows.” You tilted your mask back just enough to get the thermos to your mouth, wincing at the caf’s heat and lack of sweetness, but powered through it anyway. You stopped at a few more stores, picking up your usual collection of bacta and tools, absently chatting away at your partner while he followed silently along. You had your backpack stuffed full of goodies and were feeling well about your next adventure when you rounded a street corner, and stepped back immediately at what you saw. You’d only caught a glance, but you knew the shape of standard-issue white duraplast anywhere.

“Mando back up. Right now.” You pushed against his chestplate, steering him back down the alley you were in until you were behind a stack of crates. His jetpack made an ugly sound as it scratched against the stucco of the building while you pressed up against him, using your body to shield him and the child’s pram, though he himself would have made a much better barrier. Habitually, his hands went to your waist, still enamored with being allowed in your proximity, not quite getting what you were trying to do. You ignored him, watching the intersection through your visor.

“Cyar’ika...this isn’t-”

“Ksst!” You hissed, catching the tilt of beskar in the corner of your eye, and the click of a blaster’s safety in your ear when he noticed you weren’t playing coy. Motionless, you both watched the entrance to the alleyway, and you heard them before you saw them.

“You there! Have you seen any mandos?”

“Y-yes! Two of them! They went that way!” Shit balls of hell. You recognized the whimpering voice of the baker that was selling you out. Under the chestplate of your armored companion you caught the sound of his quickening heartbeat, the speeding rhythm adding to your own surging adrenaline. The stormtroopers were crossing through the intersection now, and you were able to get a good look at the sad state of the once-terrible soldiers. Their plasticast armor was dingy and dirty, smeared with volcanic ash and rust. Between the busted plates you could see the tears in their duraweave, sloppily patched and mended. They looked like shit, but they were still armed to the teeth in what was left of their equipment. Blindly they made their way past your alley, not even bothering to glance at where you were hidden. Hot breath coasted over your head with the release of your packmate’s breath, and you let yours loose as well. 

“That was close.” He grated through his modulator. “The last thing we need, or these townspeople need, are more fucking Imps.”

“No shit, looks like it’s just a handful though. Still too many for a good day, but not so much that we couldn’t handle them.” Above you the black hole where his eyes should be turned down to you, tilting slightly with a questioning roll. You reached up and slid your own armor to the top of your head so that he could see your face. “The bounty pucks can wait, right?” He nodded, and you bared your teeth in a vicious, bloodthirsty grin. “Then let's. Go. Hunting.” 

A low growl reverberated in the metal of his chest, and the hand that wasn’t brandishing his blaster came up to cup your chin, dragging his rough leather thumb over the edge of your jaw. “Marry me.”

“Day late, dollar short, bucket boy.” You chided, “I’m already spoken for.” You kissed at the edge of his helmet, reveling in the snarl that barked through the modulator before pulling your own beskar back down over your face. “We gotta get them away from the civilians.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I thought you hated my plans.”

“Your plans are terrible, but they work, ner riduur.”  

“Damn right they do. Ok look, I’ll grab their attention and get them to chase me, you take Beans and pick them off as I get them further away from people. Think you can handle that?” 

Beskar chimed when it knocked against your brow, surging fire along with the adrenaline your veins were furiously pumping. “Just be careful, my love.” You returned the gesture of affection with another sweet chime, then pulled back to point down the alleyway. Din nodded and took off, the child’s closed hover crib floating along behind him. Free of your oathsworn, you rolled your shoulders and scuffed your boots in the volcanic soil, revving yourself up for what would be a hell of a run. You stepped out onto the main road, catching sight of where the disgraced Imps were still harassing the townspeople. The thermos of nasty caf exploded on the back of one big white egg, turning their attention to you. 

“Hey fucknuggets! Looking for me?” You barely took a breath to duck back into the alley as blaster fire shot overhead. Assholes, there’s bystanders nearby! Memories of Tatooine flashed in your mind as you hauled ass through the charred streets, chucking supply crates into the way of the worst shots in the galaxy. The stormtroopers weren’t fast, but they were ambitious, plowing through the obstacles that you threw in their way. You rounded a corner, avoiding plasma shots easier than the broad side of a barn. “Eggheads!” You taunted, keeping them chasing after you. At a deserted intersection you stopped, waiting for them to round the corner; and you couldn’t help but grin when one of them was yanked into the air, dangling on the end of a grapple. A single -urk- told you that one was down and out. How many were there? Three? Four?

Two more rounded the corner, and you sped down the next street after another string of searing insults. The Imps shot at you with no regard for human life, pockmarking the already disheveled buildings with more burnt holes. Making sure that they saw you take the next turn, you ducked behind a corner, waiting for them to follow suit. So predictable. The two dirty soldiers plodded past you, and you drew your blaster and fired, catching one in the skull and one in the shoulder. Trooper one fell to the ground, but the second one reeled and tried to aim their gun at you with their fucked up arm. Bad move. Black and silver rained from above, kicking the stormtrooper’s legs out from under it and blasting it full of holes. Mando knocked the dead Imps gun away with his foot, just in case, then turned his gaze to you. “Nice wor-look out!”

You snapped back to look behind you, and for the first time in the entire history of the Empire, a stormtrooper made a bullseye.

“-Twang!-” 

You fell backwards to the ground with the force of the impact to your face. Game over.

“Blam!”

Everything was ringing, and not in a nice way, making the world appear as flickering greys and blacks as your eyeballs tried to pull blood back to their concussed retinas. The sound of Mando’s blaster and the thud of a dead body hitting the dirt made you open your stunned eyes. You laid in the pyroclastic gravel, thinking maybe you were a ghost and you were just hearing and seeing the last of the living world; but your wilted vision was soon eclipsed by a big metal bucket leaning over top of you.

“Are you alright?”

Shockingly, you were able to respond. “I...think so? What the hell I took that right between the eye- oh!” You brought your hands to your face where a bullet hole should be, running your fingers over the smooth beskar that had saved your life. “Beskar! Beskar blocks blast bullets! Try saying that three times fast.” Your helmeted husband hauled you to your feet, roughly brushing the dirt and gravel off of you in his endearingly fussy way. “Yeah, I’m good, tinman. Thanks for the armor.” You were glad he couldn’t see your eyes, you were squinting and blinking fast, trying to usher your sight back, letting loose a sigh of relief as the details of his armor came into view. The protective faceplate chimed its siren song as Din pushed his helmet against you, humming happily with the knowledge of your safety.

“You’re quick, cyare, but maybe next time let me be the bait?” 

“Not a snowflake's chance in hell.” Turning away from your armored companion, you bent down to inspect the fallen trooper. “What the fuck were they doing here anyway?”

“Probably leftovers from the siege, maybe longer by the looks of their armor.” A bandoliered boot kicked at the sullied corpse. “Usually there’s more than this, but these look like they’ve been on-world too long, trying to make a good capture to earn a place back into a larger platoon.”

“Shitstains.” You pushed your mask to the side and spat on the ground, “I’d better not see another one of these skulking around, or I’ll run out of blast cartridges pumping them full’a holes.'' The taste of the hunt was still strong on your tongue, and the hunger for blood was making you aggressive. “Fuckin’ Empire never did me any favors, not to mention all the people who’s lives’ve been ruined by their destruction. What’s left of them needs to be purged like a disease. Expunged.” Through the haze of bloodlust you caught your man staring at you, and realized that you were getting more fired up than what might have been appropriate. You cleared your throat, trying to cough the thrill of the chase out of your lungs. “Yikes, I’m sorry Mando, I don’t know what-”

“Don’t be.” He was close now, having crossed the short distance between you in a single stride. “Tell me more.” 

“Oh? You like that, huh?” He nodded, letting his hands wander up your arms and down your sides until he was squeezing at your waist. “I wanna hunt Imps.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Forget bail jumpers, I wanna go after the Empire’s soggy leftovers, break their dirty duraplast open and spill their rotten guts.” The handsy warrior ran his fingers around the swell of your ass and down the backs of your thighs, lifting up on them so hard you were forced to wrap your arms around his neck while he saddled you around his waist. “Mando! We’re outside!” 

“Don’t care, I wanna hear more.” He waltzed the two of you into the nearest alleyway, barely out of sight of anyone who would walk down the street; though the stormtrooper carcasses would probably dissuade any and all from getting too close. Mando waited for you to toss your backpack off before pushing you against the stucco, grinding hard into your core. 

“Fucksake, where do you get the energy?” You laughed, though it was a serious question that would probably never get an answer. He ignored you, groaning heavily in your ear. 

“More.”

“Alright alright.” It was hard to respond with him getting so fresh. “If I see another one of those fucking eggheads I’ll rattle their dirty plastic buckets with...with...fuck.” His armored hips surged into you, the plates of his sides pinching your inner thighs and making it hard for you to put words together. “Gonna… gonna scramble their yolks with my b-blades.”

“Fuck yeah you are. More, tell me more, ner riduur.” Between your legs the bulge of his stiff cock was rutting into you, trying desperately to meet you through the layers of duraweave. 

“I’m gonna find those dirty Imps, I’m gonna shoot them in their ugly plasticast faces. I’ll take all their guns as my trophies. Blow their whole ratsnest sky....high!” You keened, squished harder against the wall by the breadth of his chestplate so his hands could move without dropping you. Deft digits dug into your belt and yanked, pulling your pants down over the curve of your backside just far enough that your heat was exposed. You were unable to see anything past his broad armored shoulders, and the sound of a zipper being thrown was all the warning you got before he was pushing up into you.

“I think… you should...take...their...heads!” He stuttered between thrusts, leaning back to hook your legs through the crooks of his elbows, jackknifing you against the ashstreaked wall. His cock split you in two, stretching you open almost painfully without any prior slicking. “More! I wanna hear more! Make your husband proud!” His command growled through his modulator, so loaded with need that the hair on the back of your neck stood on end and your pussy flooded with much-needed juice.

“Fu-fuck Man-an-d-do! I’ll- fuckin...stab… an’… sh-shoot… ah~!” Between his filthy cadence and the air being squeezed from your chest you couldn’t get a word in edgewise; and you bunched your fingers into the scruff of his cloak, holding on for dear life while he plowed you into the wall. You clamped your coils around him, making him moan against the side of your mask and earning yourself just enough of a break in his stride to find your voice. “Gonna… gonna get the jump on ‘em. Sneak up behind their stupid fucking Imp asses and gut them like fish.” You winced when he sped up, the friction becoming too much.“Ouch!”

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of pain, his heaving chest the only movement from the silver statue. He looked down between your bodies to where he was lost inside you, then let one of your legs back down to his hip so he could free his hand from your thigh. The armored paw was brought up to the bottom of your mask and up under the beskar to your mouth. 

“Bite.” You bit down on the leather, holding the glove in your teeth as he pulled his hand free, stuffing it down between your pressed bellies to where his cock was. He pulled the throbbing member out and slid his calloused fingers in, hunting for your sweet spot. “Let’s see, where’s that spot that makes you squirm? Should be...right...about...here.” His trigger finger dug into the patch of nerves, pumping in and out of you until you were whining around the glove still in your teeth. Another finger joined the first, taking a moment to scissor around inside you to stretch you further before thrusting into you again. “You love my hands, don’t you, cyar’ika? Love when I fuck you with them?” You could barely nod, between his efforts and being squashed against the wall, you were putty in his hands. His long fingers pumped quickly at your core, digging in deeper every time you clenched around them to churn you into a slick mess. A vicious growl in your ears made your insides flutter, and the Mandalorian could feel you starting to come undone for him. “Does that feel better, cyare?” He purred, spinning his thumb over your clit between plunges. “Come on, come for me like a good girl~.”

You bit down hard on the glove with a muffled cry, clawing at his shoulders while he milked every drop from you until it was running down his hand and onto the volcanic soil below. Soft praises whispered out of his modulator, telling you how well you take his hands, how soft and strong you are and all the ways he would pleasure you each and every day. He slid his fingers out of your deliciously wet heat and filled you right back up with his cock. The bare hand glistened in the smoky daylight before disappearing under the edge of his helmet to lick himself clean, humming at the taste of your sweet nectar. With both hands back on your legs, he nearly crushed you against the wall, chasing his own desperate release. Hot steam fogged up your visor, his ragged breath coming hard out of the bottom of his helmet with each merciless thrust. The sound of him losing himself in you was music to your ears, low, rumbling growls between broken words of adoration until he was nearly spooled to completion. 

“That’s my riduur! That’s my wife! F-feirce little t-thing! So b-beautf-ful, wearing my armor! Wearing beskar like a true Mando’ade! I c-can’t wait to...to... get... you more!” He pulled out of your sopping cunt, pressing his throbbing shaft under your asscheeks while he came hard against the wall behind you, groaning the whole way through. His breath came in broken gasps through his modulator, and his arms coiled around your legs as if he was trying to melt your body into his through your many layers. You hugged him back while trying to pull your legs from his arms, and reluctantly he let you drop from him, holding you steady as much as he was trying to hold himself. Tugging your pants back up and taking the wet glove from your mouth, you couldn’t help but turn and glance at the marked wall, flabbergasted at the amount that was dripping through the ash-laden stucco. 

“That’s supposed to be mine!” You pointed at the gooey smear with a laugh that was rewarded with a tilted visor glare. 

“No...fresher…”

“Oh aren’t you thoughtful."

You patted his heaving shoulders and leaned forward to kiss his helmet where his mouth would be, humming sweetly before turning your attention to the corpses that were still strewn about the deserted street. The trooper bodies had started to grow cold, and you made your way over to them to collect your trophies with a skip in your step. Their blasters were grimey, so soiled with plasma residue and fucking dirt that you almost didn’t want to touch them. “Hey, Mando, do you think the scary sewer queen would like these?” He cocked his head at you from over where he was dragging the white plasticast corpses into the alleyway you had just disrespected. “The beefy lady, with the sword?”

“Ruusaan?” You nodded at the somewhat familiar word. “She’d be thrilled. Probably forge you another piece of armor once you collect a few more. Everything after the helmet has to be earned, and...and I’d love to see you...in… in full beskar, cyar’ika.”

“So I’ve been told.”  You glanced around the deserted back alley, getting the feeling that something was missing, something important. “Mando! Where’s our fucking foundling?!” Din straightened up and pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, angling his visor up to the rooftops. The baby’s hoverbucket floated over the edge, gently gliding down from out of harm's way. Inside, the tiny green terror was throwing his arms up in the air, enjoying the ride back down to ground level. His shirt and blankie were covered in muffin crumbs, and though he was a mess, your stomach roared; being made violently aware that you hadn’t gotten to eat your fucking breakfast yet. Both of your boys cocked their heads at the sound of your rabid insides, bidding Din to stride forward, placing a hand on your shoulder while you tried to clear the remnants of the child’s meal away.

“Are you still hungry?”

“I never got to eat, our breakfast is still in my backpack.”

His helmet snapped softly backwards in a motion you had learned meant he was confused. “Why didn’t you eat yet?”

“Because I want to eat with you.” You ignored the quick tilt of his beskar to focus on picking pastry bits out of the child’s ears, fucking stars, how did he get them in his ears?! “It’s not fair that you have to eat by yourself all the damn time, creed or not, you should have someone watching your back when you’re vulnerable. And that’s my job now, right?” You pushed your mask up to the top of your head so he could see your eyes meet his visor. The metal mountain looked so small with his shoulders drooping and his hand resting softly on your arm, the faint twitch of his helmet telling you he was rapidly looking between both of your eyes so your words could sink in. 

“What did I do to deserve you, Tra’laar?” 

“Sprang me from jail.” You turned back to the messy baby to hide your blushing face, unwilling to wax poetic about how much you liked him while your guts demanded an audience. “Where are you more comfortable, in the sewers or in the Crest?”

“We should get back to the ship, Karga’s probably got it fueled up by now.” You nodded, finding your backpack and pulling the slightly-squashed pastries up to the top so you could stuff the icky Imp guns in the bottom for your trophy collection. When you turned back to your crewmates, however, you were greeted with an extended arm, the bent elbow of your new husband offering to escort you back to your waiting chariot. You snickered and gladly accepted the gesture, hooking your arm through his as you had done during your masquerade. The pair of you glided past where the stormtroopers bodies were stashed, scavengers would come for them eventually to strip them of their worthless armor and priceless organs; but the two of you couldn’t care less, lost in the comfort of each other's company. 

The Razor Crest came into view soon enough, and your Mandalorian only pulled away from you then to fuss with his buttons and get the ramp open. As you approached the old ship you felt your heart sink at the sight of your old mask, still half-buried where it had been stomped into the obsidian gravel. You pulled it from its grave, and the remnants of its photoreceptor casings flaked away like dried leaves, confirming what you already knew; there was no saving it. 

“Hey Mando, can you hit a moving target?” He scoffed at you before seeing what was in your hands, making him tilt quizzically at you.

"What happened to it? Did you drop it?"

"No. The IG units broke it."

"Fucking droids. I'm sorry ner cyare'se, I hope your new one makes you happy."

"You make me happy, buckethead."

 You made to heft the mask, making a few slow pretend throws so he got the hint and let his hand hover over his pistol like a gunslinger. “Hup!” You chucked the busted thing high in the air, and his blaster snapped like a viper from his hip with a bang! The wasted durasteel exploded spectacularly in the air, raining back down as chunks of shrapnel that had you running for the Crest and giggling like a fool. Rest in pieces.

You followed Mando and the foundling up the ramp of the ship, taking a moment to run your palm over the entryway. There was a time not too long ago when you thought you would never see her again, the ship that you had made a home for yourself in. The beskar mask hid your smile as your eyes wandered over her messy interior, lingering over the cot that still had your bedroll in it and gazing lovingly at the wall panel where the armory was hidden from view; and you wondered if you would get to add your own trophies to that case. Even the empty carbonite chamber had you feeling a sense of belonging, that this is where your wild hunt would lead, time and time again. The door to the ramp closed, and you took a deep, fulfilling breath of the stuffy atmosphere of the hold. “Hello, Iron Lady, did you miss me?”

“Did you say something?” Din was working to get the child out of his pram so he could stretch his legs in the safety of the ship. 

You rolled your mask up to the top of your head, the shining beskar looking like a crown fit for a queen. “Hmm? Oh, no, just an old sailor phrase. Iron Lady, queen of strife, You're my only home and wife. I know I'm bound to you for life, nor would I have another!” You belted, hearing the acoustics of the durasteel walls thrum to life with the power of your voice. You sighed, long and low as you had heard your partner do so many times, and you turned your eyes back to him; resisting the urge to screw your eyes shut at the sight of his bare face. He would have to get used to being touched, but you would have to get used to seeing the real flesh and blood of the man underneath the armor. Fucking Maker, he’s so pretty! 

Din pressed kisses to your forehead, then both your cheeks, and lastly your smile; humming through his adoration. You closed your eyes and let yourself get caught up in his affections, but the tug on your shoulder gave away his sneaky thievery, and you shot one eye open to watch him pull your backpack off of you. He laughed and started digging through the ratty old bag, pulling the baked goods out for you to finally eat. You took yours greedily, stuffing the now cold loaf of goodness into your piehole, waiting for Din to do the same. He watched you with a strange look in his eye, as if he was trying to imagine himself eating vicariously through you, though he had his own meal right there in his hands. 

You raised a brow at him. “What’s wrong? Did I get the wrong flavor?”

He shook his head, his chocolate pudding eyes shining up to you in a bashful, puppy-like way. “I...um… I’ve never eaten around anyone before.” 

Stop being so fucking cute all the time! “Oh, ok well here let’s do this.” You plopped down on one of the many crates that littered the cabin with your back to him. “Take your rockets off and come sit behind me.” You turned away from him and waited until you heard the dull thunk of metal hit the ground and felt the crate shift with his weight. “Now lean back.” He did as he was instructed, leaning his back up against your own, and the happy sigh that rumbled out of him made your heart swell. Then the sound of loud, fast eating made you chuckle, and he froze behind you. “Oh for fucks sake the baby eats way grosser than you do. Fuckin’ go for it.” You felt his shoulders jostle with a secretive laugh, and the onslaught began anew. His breakfast disappeared in seconds, and you wondered if he even tasted it before he sucked it down. “Is that how you always eat?”

“Mmhmm.” He said with his mouth still partially full. “Nev’r know what’s coming.” You turned to watch him throw his legs around the other side of the crate, sitting perpendicular to you now so he could wrap an arm around your waist while you ate your well deserved meal. “You take your time.”

“Ah plan to.” And you did, actually chewing your food, only stopping to accept a canteen that was handed to you in lieu of your launched projectile thermos. With a happy belly you turned to your riduur, grinning right back at his sheepish little smile. “So, captain, what’s next for us?”

“Do you remember what I said last night? I want you to pick a star for me to bring you.”

The sweet sentiment made your heart swell, then promptly drop. “What about our Guild contracts?” You were expecting a groan, a sigh, or even a curse at the reminder that you had put your crew right back on the trail instead of bound for rest and relaxation; but instead you were gifted with petal-soft kisses on your cheek. 

“Anywhere with you is a pleasure, riduur’ika, especially if I get to see you hunt.” He scooted closer to you on the crate, wrapping both his arms around your waist while you were still trying to eat, resting his scruffy chin in the crook of your shoulder, breathing right in your ear. “And if we see any Imps, we can hunt them down for sport.” He growled the last words with enough malice that a chill ran up your spine and broke into the light as an icy smile. 

“Stars above, you do not like those fuckin’ Imps, do you?” Din nodded, making sure to rub against your cheek like a big, happy massiff. “Alright then, gimme your pucks.” One armored hand disappeared from you to dig through his belt pouches, bringing his half of the bounties into view. You scarfed down the last of your breakfast and found your own pucks to add to the pile in his grasp. Between his hand and yours, you shook your collection of captured stars, shuffling the bounties in your palms and pulling one from the stack as your choice. You held it up high in front of you like you were inspecting a jewel instead of a chunk of duraplast and wiring. “This one. Bring this one to me.” The leftover pucks were returned to his pouch, freeing himself up to run his insatiable paws over your shoulder to tug at your outstretched arm. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing fuzzy kisses to your knuckles, humming at the goosebumps that readily prickled your skin.

“As you wish.”

<-Previous Next->

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[karimac]

Snapshots, roll 2

As I'm getting back into the swing of things here on the writing side, I thought I'd drop another set of Snapshots until I get my next chapters rolling on my series.

Warnings: really none for this group, but they will be part of my 18+ series down the line.

“What do you mean you have a safe house? Are you suddenly Nick Fury’s best girl?” Sam asked as you looked at him, Steve, Natasha, Wanda and Vision. Your arms were crossed, and you were pissed beyond words at the comment. You never told them about how you and Nick interacted, and now was not the time to do it. So you grunted and started to open a portal.

“If I might ask, will we be getting any of your family in trouble if you do this, Miss MacOrish?” Vision asked as you stopped and let the portal slowly close.

“Vision, my blood family died out a very long time ago, and I am going to make sure we go nowhere near anyone who means anything to me at the moment. Sorry, but the compound in Ireland is off limits for now. Maybe one day I’ll get to take you all back home. I’d like that.”

--On the run with Team Cap after Steve got Bucky to Wakanda

“The woman is certifiable!” Stark screamed as he looked out of the compound window as small torches throughout the grounds suddenly came alight with flame. “She’s out there doing what, Steve? Can you explain it to me, because I really do not want her doing something we’ll all regret!”

“Tony, I don’t understand it any more than you do,” Rogers replied as he pulled the curtain back and suddenly and visibly gulped. “Does anyone know why Kari is outside, and what she’s doing…”

“Calling on her goddess or their pantheon, or her siblings. Or maybe the army of the dead. I can ask her, if you want me to,” Thor, who was still a bit worse for wear, noted as he set down the six pack of beer he had grabbed from the kitchen. “And I know she’s under-dressed by your standards. Celts tend to do things in the nude.”

--A scene from the Avengers Compound before the Time Heist in Avengers Endgame

“James, would you just leave me alone! I am not going to Delacroix. Just go down and have a good time. Sarah knows I’m not going to be there. I’d only be a third wheel anyway.”

You never called Bucky by his first name. Ever. Well, not since 1943 anyway. But here he was, standing outside the front door of your apartment, suddenly developing the ability to get under your skin.

“What exactly are you afraid of this time? I’m sure Bruce and Wong can live without seeing you for another 24 hours, or was Darcy bugging you again?” he asked as you heard him fidgeting with the door handle. Master assassin and lock picker? Of course he’d have that skill set, but he seemed to be nothing more than antsy at the moment. Then he hit you with the question you didn’t want to hear.

“Was it what happened after Sam’s speech?”

--The day before Sam’s party in Delacroix, after the defeat of the Flag Smashers

taglist (please send an ask if you'd like to be added for any or all series): @ocfairygodmother, @historygeekfics

[hale-13]

Works Master List

Find All The Links to AO3 Stories Below :)

(Updated June 30 2021)

Spider-Man

Collections

2020 Whump Bingo (25 Works)

Camisado (Apologizing Before They Pass Out)

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out (Becoming Giggly From Blood Loss or High Fever)

Death of a Bachelor (Touching Clothing and Hand Comes Away Bloody)

Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time (Moving in a Way That Causes Pain and Tensing Up Against It)

This Isn’t The Worst Thing You’ve Seen Me Do (Chugging Caffeine to Try and Fight the Inevitable Crash)

Lie of Omission (Touching Their Head and Feeling Their Own Temperature Rise)

Homeostasis (Shivering Long After Everyone Else Has Stopped)

Vent Your Spleen (Breathing Hard to Concentrate Through the Pain)

Brain Fog (Becoming Unusually Clumsy and Fumbling Simple Tasks)

Idiopathic (Spacing Out in the Middle of a Conversation and Needing to Regain Focus)

According to Plan (Free Space!)

Ripped to Shreds (Collapsing or Falling Asleep and Looking Far Younger)

Night Terrors (Scared or Ashamed Because of Their Nightmares)

Type and Cross (Head Lolling as They No Longer Have the Strength to Hold it Up)

Bronchioles (Trying to Communicate Even Though They Can Only Speak a Few Words at a Time)

Nuclear (Another Character Spots their Hands Shaking so They Hide Them)

Failure to Thrive (Looking Unusually Ruffled, Hair Messed Up, Bags Under Eyes)

Transverse (A Helpless Look Right Before They Collapse)

Aura (Needing to Pause to Close Their Eyes Because They��re Light-Headed/Exhausted/Headache)

Resuscitated (Staggering/Walking Gracelessly Before They Can Catch Themselves)

Hyponatremia (Making Excuses to Linger Because They Don’t Want to be Alone)

Amygdala (Trying to be Subtle While Leaning Against Objects to Stay Upright)

Vonnegut (Voice Hitching as They Speak)

The Softest of Endings (Dozing When They Shouldn’t - Startled Awake)

Summer of Whump 2021 (COMPLETE)

Triple Axel (Day 1 - Freezing) AO3

Enterobacter (Day 2 - Food Poisoning) AO3

Submersion (Day 3 - Drowning) AO3

Slipping Through the Cracks (Day 5 - Broken) AO3

Hold Onto the Faith as I Dig Another Grave (Day 6 - Buried) AO3

Ultraviolet (Day 7 - Sunburn) AO3

Ulcerated (Day 8 - Force Feeding) AO3

Euarthropoda (Day 9 - Bugs) AO3

Caved In (Day 10 - Trapped) AO3

Hold Fasts (Day 11 - Whipping) AO3

Caliber (Day 12 - Death) AO3

In The Atmosphere (Day 13 - Sacrificed) AO3

Violation of Order (Day 14 - Hair Grabbing) AO3

Better Together (Day 15 - Sleep Deprivation) AO3

Conditioned (Day 16 - Hair Washing) AO3

Shackled (Day 17 - Collared) AO3

Syncope (Day 18 - Collapse) AO3

Scare Tactics (Day 19 - Fear) AO3

Zero Days Without Incident (Day 20 - Defiance) AO3

Dazed and Confused (Day 21 - Panic) AO3

Five Stages (Day 22 - Grief) AO3

Febrile (Day 23 - Sick) AO3

En Pointe (Day 24 - Stitches) AO3

Detached (Day 25 - Isolation) AO3

Strangulated (Day 26 - Asphyxiation) AO3

Trapezius (Day 27 - Injured) AO3

State of Grace (Day 28 - Display) AO3

Airway (Day 29 - Control) AO3

Engulfed (Day 30 - Crying) AO3

One Shots

I’m Not Scared (of the dark) (Complete 8/14/20)

(Not my best work fyi - and I kinda hate it - but it was my first so I felt guilty not including it...)

Peter is just so tired. The world is too loud, his head is too full. Maybe his coping mechanism to keep things quiet and calm isn’t the most well adjusted but Mr. Stark is dealing with the fallout from the Accords and he can’t inconvenience anyone anymore.

Chaptered Works - Completed

We Can’t Have Faith For Everybody (10 Chapters, Complete 5/1/21)

It starts like this:

MJ and Flash, hands cuffed to each other and Peter, wrists and ankles held to the wall by thick metal cuffs and dangling in a way that’s surely to leave his shoulders aching.

The first week Peter, verbally, gives as good as he gets. He never lashes out physically and always does what their captors want the first time they ask. He still spends most of his time that he is in the cell chained uncomfortably to the wall. After the first week someone, apparently, decides that Peter is weak enough from the constant abuse and malnourishment that he is no longer chained up after his sessions; just dropped unceremoniously onto the dirty floor and left for MJ and Flash to care for.

Chaptered Works - In Progress (Coming Soon)

When the Dust Settles (? Chapters, Publishing in Oct/Nov)