#if you recognized this as a Deep Breath reference I am kissing you on the mouth right now

[itsonlydana]

"Sehnsucht" || Gran Turismo (2023)

Sehnsucht: German from sehnen (“to long”) + Sucht (“anxiety; sickness; addiction”)

meaning: yearning or craving, but the word as a concept and its roots can refer to a lingering illness of heart-wrenching pining for something

➛ pairing: Danny Moore x fem!reader

➛ idea: Two people too blind to see what the other feels until Jack Salter puts a stop to the hurting and wondering

➛ tags/warnings: Age difference, mature language, mention of drinking, idiots in love, hurt/comfort

➛ word count: 5k

➛ an: i am obsessed with this movie and Orlando Bloom so here we are - i wrote this baby in three days

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Fuck

Would have been the first word of the day but all you can do is groan as the feeling of something pounding inside your head drags you out of sleep.

The hammering is brutal and while your brain is still trying to fight back the lingering grasps of the night and you don't really know what is going on, you are sure you are dying.

"Fuck"

The curse, now being moaned against the warm spot of the pillow your face is mushed against, feels heavy in your dry mouth and hard on your chapped lips. The feeling is disgusting and not just because your mother always threatened to wash your mouth out with soap if you dared to swear but because your tongue is hefty and there is no spit left whatsoever and speaking feels more like grating the words over your teeth.

The hammering doesn't stop, it grows louder and louder, becoming unbearable as your body and mind wake up slowly.

Heat washes over your body in unpleasant waves and you try to kick the sheets away but they cling to your sweating body. You feel like you are burning up, not only from the sheets but from the inside as well. You kick the sheets harder, legs rubbing against each other until the fabric finally slides down and bunches together somewhere at your feet. You couldn't care less about where it lands.

The relief is instantaneous. A slight breeze caresses your nearly nude body and you slightly lift your head in the direction you presume the wind is coming from.

It's deliciously calm at this moment of quiet, the air fills your lungs, kisses the sweat on your body, sends refreshing shivers that soothe the pain in your head and a soft sigh escapes you.

Taking a deep breath your mind finally settles and in that exact moment the sweet moment of ease slips from between your fingers, blurred memories of last night crushing down on you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

A gasp tears through you as you sit up in shock, the sound tearing through your rib cage and lungs painfully like a punch and echoing through the hotel room you find yourself in. Your chest rips apart, every breath shattering another bone and ripping muscle after muscle, while the memories claw their way back from the hazy wall of your subconsciousness back into the forefront of your mind.

The dim light of the bar should've been dark enough to mush the faces, surely they had been counting on it, he had been counting on it but you would recognize him everywhere.

The dark hair with the curls falls into his face, hides his eyes which certainly are closed in pleasure and you can only stare at the hands that are currently raking through the locks, messing up the slicked-back style he favors. His arm flexes, the muscles straining against his shirt visibly even from far away, as he cages the woman against the wall while his other arm is planted firmly next to her head, hiding most of her but not enough that you don't see how pretty she is.

You should look away, save yourself from the pain the image inflicts on you and still- you physically can't turn.

It's like watching a car crash happen, it has been ever since Danny started talking to the woman. Him buying her drinks and flirting with her was the car losing control, spinning and swerving. The hope of everything turning out alright when he had dismissed her arm on his for only a second.

Hope blossoming under conditions far too dark, far too impossible.

Hope repairing the crack in your heart, only to rip it into pieces when he leans into her, whispering into her ear and she laughs and she blushes and you stare.

You stare

watching the car crash

watching Danny lead the woman to the dance floor

watching Danny put his hands on her waist, moving to the music, moving far away from you

watching them stumble to the bathrooms and not making it before he pushes her against the wall

watching alone from the bar, left alone, left to suffer.

And then there was Jack, pulling you into his side, placing a drink into your hand with a mumbled "Come on, drink up, kid" and you bleed and cry and hold on to the shoulder holding you up.

Danny left with that woman, you remember it clearly despite the effort to drink enough to forget. They had left not shortly after he had kissed her and after that, everything had been a blur of alcohol burning in your throat and stomach, the world spinning and turning and coming to a full stop somewhere after you threw up and Jack had to carry you back to the hotel.

It had become a recurring routine, an unhealthy habit you had fallen into ever since Danny Moore had kissed you after the first race you placed first, with all three of you celebrating and Danny and you walking along the beach after Jack had taken off to the hotel room. Your hands had brushed against each other, gentle like the waves coming up licking the sand, a soft caress of the side of his hand that wasn't stuffed into the pocket of his black coat until it became an intertwining of your pinkies, a soft and gentle fall of your hands into each other and his thumb stroking over your skin.

It was how he had pulled you in and kissed you, your hands pressed between your chests, breath coming quickly because of the swift movement and his lips tasted like the salty seawater when his lips moved in synch with yours.

You dry heave, another sob breaking out of your sore throat and would there have been any more liquid in your body you surely would have started crying again. But you were all empty, left hollow and raw.

Your eyelashes still stick together, as you lift a hand to rub over your face and they come back smeared black with ruined mascara. Forcing yourself to get up, you shift to the side of the bed, Jack's bed you presume from the black suitcase lying on the floor and some of his personal items scattered over the surfaces of the room. Legs dangling over the bed you lift your head and are suddenly confronted with your own image.

That Jack had a mirror placed next to the bed was a thought pushed away by the reflection you see. There is no room for any jokes as you stare at the puffy and reddened cheeks with black streaks running over them. They are an ugly reminder of how you tried to catch Dannys eye, the carefully applied eyeliner in the hope of him seeing you again ruined and smudged.

The bags under your eyes tell the story of many nights spent tossing and turning, not being able to fall asleep with the things running through your mind. The question of why you were still trying is always there, whispered into your ear by your insecurities and fears in a voice that sounds strangely like Danny sometimes. Though you know that he would never ask you this.

He was still all over the project "GT-Academy"; despite the fact that Nissan offered him a bigger position which he had declined with a smile and a "No thank you, I am very happy where I currently am" to the cameras when someone had slipped it to the reporters.

They had asked you as well how you felt about Danny's decision, shocking you with this opportunity he hadn't told you about but thank god for all the media training. Falling into a perfected smile the astonishment and hurt were quickly hidden behind a positively neutral facade. You had told them you couldn't dream about working with anyone else than Danny and Jack on your side, moving the question away from its origin and following it up with the upcoming plans you three were working on.

After that interview, you and Danny had argued.

Again.

That started happening a lot more ever since he had kissed you on the beach and stopped looking at you the next morning. In front of the cameras, he was still praising you, talking about "combined forces" and "partnerships" and "teamwork" and "supporting you" while he strayed farther and farther from you away from the lenses and microphones.

Him joining you on the sidelines of every race, cheering for you and always hurling you into a hug if you did well became a rarity. At first the hugs stopped, became handshake and then he excused himself from the races, babbling about press conferences or filming commercials for Nissan before he simply stopped giving you an explanation and just showed up now and then.

He was slipping from your fingers, after three years of working with each other and flying all over the world to see new places and win races, he was harder to reach every day and every night when he would disappear with another woman you lost him more and more.

If you only knew what you had done wrong.

You flinched when a soft knock sounds through the room before the door is opened a crack and Jack tucks his head inside.

"So you are up already", he opens the door wider, stepping inside with the question you don't have the energy for to answer.

Instead, you shrug your shoulders, not turning away from the mirror.

Jack exhales and crouches down to his suitcase. "Don't know if you're hungry but I ordered some room service.", he grunts when he stands up again. "Suppose you should get at least coffee into you." A shirt is thrown in your direction and lands next to you on the bed. It's far too big, falling down to your thighs even while sitting down and you look like a child stealing their fathers' clothes.

"Thank you", you mumble, throat still dry and tongue still heavy.

Jack shakes his head, "No worries. Here, take this as well", he said and walks over to the bed with a bottle of water and what is probably an aspirin-both you take gladly.

While you swallow the pill and greedily inhale the cooling water, Jack sits down next to you. He leans back a bit, his hands behind him on the mattress and you wordlessly fall into the offered shoulder, your pounding temple pressed against his collarbone.

"You should talk to him", Jacks voice is low and the words spoken cautious and his left arm curls around your waist as if he knew you were close to jumping up and running away.

"Jack", you sigh his name in a weak form of protest.

He shakes his head again, before laying his chin on yours. "No I mean it. This won't go well if you don't clear the air", the words vibrate through your body.

"I have this under control" A lie. Not even a good one, as evidently proven wrong by the state of you last night.

"Don't lie to me, kid. I had to carry you into and out of the cap because you were so out of it. Not that I don't understand it. Shit, I did far worse stuff when I was in l-", he stops and you freeze.

The unspoken word hangs between you in the air, pressing down on you like a heavy weight.

"Kid-", Jack starts but you stop him, lifting one hand to lay it against his chest.

It's not like you have never talked about Danny with Jack. At first you tried to suppress the feelings slowly growing for the man but two years ago, when they started influencing your driving because you had no one to talk about it, you had confided in Jack. He had been surprisingly calm about the whole situation, not hot-headed as you knew him but maybe that was partly fault of the whole you still winning races and maybe turning up at his hotel room at 3 am with a bottle of whiskey had surprised him more than you spilling your secret.

So yes, Jack knew that you were falling hard for Danny, have been for a while.

"I didn't mean it like that", Salter says.

You sigh, deflating even more into him. "No, it's fine. I know.. I do", you pause, swallowing "I do love him"

The arm around you tightens and you feel Jack tensing up. "I will kill him someday. Fucking around with you like that. Fuck, he should know better" Looking up Jack wears a stony expression, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together.

"He has been in the media business far to long for him to fuck up this hard. And those women he fucks" He raises a hand and pinches the bridge of his nose, huffing out in annoyance. "Every damn press conference, I wait for the question about these women and their looks to drop and then I would love to see what he would do."

"Yeah", you sigh wistfully and turn your head back to the mirror. The next sentence is barely a whisper when you say it: "Why do they all have to be this pretty?"

In the mirror you can see Jack's eyes snap down to you, looking at you in a way that makes you think you missed something crucial and just when you want to ask him what that could be, a sharp knock comes from the door.

"Must be room service", Jack excuses himself, unfolding from you as gently as a man his size can and ruffles your hair. He stands up with another groan and you bite back a smile and a joke about how a man his age shouldn't be out partying this hard and late. There is another knock, knuckles meeting the door in the main room hard and fast, in an urgency that has Jack rolling his eyes. Grumbling to himself he walks out of the bedroom, heading for the door you can see from your place on the bed: "Fucking 5-star hotel and you would think with the money we pay they could wait a minute. Let me get that. You should eat something, and if I don't get ´nother coffee in me soon-"

The rest of the sentence dies on his tongue as he opens the door.

You stay quiet, watching in confusion as Jack's back straightens and one hand curls into a fist that surely wasn't a result of excitement at seeing coffee.

Then you can hear him, the low rasp of his voice, desperate and tired: "Jack, I fucked up. I fucked up hard"

Salter doesn't move an inch. Even when you can see Danny trying to take a step into the room, he squares his shoulders and blocks Danny's way with one hand stemmed against the door frame.

"Don't think you should be here right now", Jack says, a warning tone in his voice that Moore seems to interpret the wrong way.

"Oh, you have a girl in there?", you can hear him and see Jack shaking his head. "Then let me in, please. I need to talk to you about something important and I swear I will fucking explode if I don't"

"Moore-", Jacks voice takes on a low growl.

"No, Jack, I mean it. I fucked up badly. There was this woman last night at the bar, don't know if you remember but-"

"Moore, I don't really care who you pick up. If you need someone to get her out of your room call hotel security"

"No!", frustrated Danny groans. "She didn't stay. Not after what I did. Jack, I really don't want to discuss this standing in this hall! We have enough reporters on us already, don't you think?"

Before you had simply stared out the room, frozen at the sudden confrontation with Danny standing right outside but the mention of the woman, pressed against the bathroom, raking her hands through Dannys hair, her mouth clashing against his, you whimper and lift your legs slowly. Bringing them up to your chest, you wrap your arms around them, hugging yourself as to not break out into tears. You don't find any comfort in the fact that she didn't stay. It's even worse to think that Danny just finds a woman, fucks her and then she leaves him.

You could never leave him.

Not if he gave you the chance but he ripped that away from you before you could find out how his touch would feel.

What was it with these women that they could get his attention, even for just one night, but you were left alone to wonder and dream and hope and suffer?

The next whimper leaving your mouth reaches Jack and just when he whips his head to you, eyes looking you over to make sure you are alright, Danny uses the opportunity to duck under his arm and sneaks into the room.

You freeze up again at the sight of him. He is still wearing the same shirt as yesterday but now it's nowhere near as smooth, it's not even tugged into the black jeans and he looks so disheveled and panicked as he trips over a heel, your heel. Your hand flies to your mouth, trying not to make another sound and draw his attention towards you.

"Jack I need to tell you something and you have to promise me that you let me explain before you try to kill me, alright?", Danny stops, his back to the wide open bedroom door, and you don't dare to blink or move a muscle. You are fixated on his unruffled image, drawn into it by the pure realness of him. Where he normally is perfect, always knows what to say, always knows how to present himself to the public, he is now completely unraveled.

"Danny I swear to god-" Jack groans again. "Get out of here!"

"I can't!", Danny cries out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other "I fucked up. She could already be on her way to whatever newspaper is hearing her out and trust me; any of them will tear into her and then into us. Into me. Into her!"

Instantly, Jack's body language changes and with one swift movement the hotel room door slams close through a shift of his arm. "What the fuck did you do Moore?", he fixates the other man, staring him down and Danny shrinks, hiding between lifted shoulders.

"I said her name," he admits, and the room temperature drops.

Jack's eyes grow hard, his jawline is so tense you are sure his teeth are grinding against each other. You have never seen him this angry. Not this type of anger, anyway.

Jack Salter was hot-headed and was known for losing his temper if some of the male reporters threw some truly disgusting offers your way and a few years back when you'd tried to win your FIA-license and Nicholas Capa had made it his mission to nearly kill you on the track, Jack had been close to punching the arrogant boy in front of everyone at the podium.

This was a new version of his anger and it scares you how calm he seemed.

"You said what?", he asks, lip twitching and head following the question with a shaky movement.

"Her name", Danny moans, "Fuck, I was trying so hard and then I say her bloody name when I'm with another woman. I'm going crazy Jack, she's messing with my head and nothing helps"

Who was he talking about? You nearly break your skull thinking of the woman that Danny Moore had been seen in public within the last few years and while you can remember some names and faces from before the Academy, there were almost no memories of mentions or pictures popping up in the press after that. There have been the women at the bars, of course, but none of them had been with him longer than a night.

"Danny, I don't think we should have this conversation right now", Jack presses, moving towards the door again and his hand is already on the handle, fingers curling around the gold-colored metal when Danny explodes.

"How can you be calm about this, Salter? I bloody moaned our girl's name into the ear of a woman who is probably blabbing to a reporter and I need to talk to her before the press asks her why her mentor is thinking about her when he fucks another woman! I don't give a rat's ass who you have hidden in your bedroom! Tell whoever it is you picked up that you will be back but right now I really need your help finding-"

He turns around and your name falls off his tongue in a breathless stutter as his gaze glides into the bedroom. Onto you, sitting in Jack's bed with Jack's shirt, clinging to your legs in an attempt to calm down your breathing that has quickened up during the last few minutes and has now become quite panicked.

You two stare at each other, you already with tears blurring your vision but you can clearly see Jack rubbing a face over his beard. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, grinding out a: "Well now fuck this", before he pushes past Moore, who is standing still in the middle of the room, the arm he had swung into the direction of the bedroom dropping to his side.

The words are burning themselves into your mind as you stare at him, scorching your skin all the way down into your heart which surely has stopped beating because this can't be real.

Your hands fist themselves into the fabric of the shirt, knuckles becoming white with the strength and while your fingernails press into your palms nearly painfully sharp, you can't stop.

Danny Moore has a look in his face that you can't describe. If you had to try though, you would think of a mixture of absolute shock as he first sees you, morphing into anger, longing, and fear in a speed that not even your cars can achieve. His mouth opens to say something and you beg him with your eyes to please say anything, but he just lets his jaw open and close.

The great Danny Moore. Speechless at the sight of a bit of naked skin and you in Jack's hotel room.

Ironic how much you had wished for most of this.

While you and Danny continue the contest of not breaking away from each other, Jack is cursing and grabbing some stuff like his phone, a watch and the coat hanging over the end of the bedframe. He stalks over to your side of the bed again, taking your chin into his hands when you don't react to him calling your name and forces you gently to look at him. His eyes glide over your face, thumbs swiping away the few tears that have escaped down your cheek.

"You need to tell him", he says quietly to you, holding your face in the large palm of his hand. "You tell him everything and I am sure it will work out, kid. Be brave" Jack presses his forehead against yours before he turns and points a finger at Danny.

"If you do any more stupid shit I will nail you to the ground by your balls, Moore.", the threat has Danny nod, even though his eyes show he has no idea what is going on right now.

With that Jack disappears out of the door and the slam is loud enough that you flinch. The aspirin may have worked but the whole situation has your head hurting again.

You look from the door back to Danny, wincing at the man slowly walks into the bedroom. He stops at the doorstep, his posture unsure and drawn into himself like a mirror of how you are holding up.

You wait with bated breath for him to say what is going on, what he meant before.

He finally opens his mouth again, speaking slowly: "So you and Jack, huh?" and the laugh that leaves you is tinted in agony.

"No", you shake your head. "No, not me and Jack. I just slept here" It's a poor explanation, one that doesn't cover how you had curled into the other man's chest as you cried yourself to sleep. You half-heartily lift your chin and point into the other room. "He slept on the couch"

"Ah", Danny nods and pushes his hands into the pocket of his pants. He seems so unsure, so lost and nothing like the man Nissan prides itself with as marketing manager. No sign of his self-confidence in front of the cameras, just as little of his ability to speak quickly and well articulated in any situation. He is a picture of misery.

You two must make a fantastic looking couple right now. Nissans employee of the month and flagship racer reduced to two lost souls staring at each other in completely inappropriate states and a longing between them that would put Shakespeare's tragedies to shame.

You lose the tight grip on your legs, letting them fall back onto the mattress. "Do you mean it? What you said to Jack."

Dannys face screws up and he raises a hand to run it through the mess that is his hair. "Darling, I didn't want you to hear it like that", he starts and you can hear the apologies creeping their way into the conversation, the attempt he will grap on to deny because you know Danny and you know he will always try to save a situation with what he thinks is easiest rather than what is right.

"But I did", you interrupt him "I did and I want to know if you meant it. Because I really need to hear you say the truth right now" There is a begging edge to the words and you turn, sitting on your knees and pushing your fists into the crumbled-up sheet.

Danny comes closer, one step at a time, working out what to do and what to say. Brown locks fall into his face, eyes directed onto the floor like he can't bring himself to look at you.

But you- you can't look away from him.

He has the sleeves of his white shirt pushed up, his muscles flexing as he sits down carefully and leans forward, elbows on his thighs, hands rubbing over his face. You stare at the collar of the shirt, on the buttons he forgot or just didn't bother with and the skin that is right in your face because of it. There are freckles on his chest, dark stars dusted on his tanned skin, drawing you in in such a mesmerizing way.

His hands move to his hair, once again, raking his fingers through it though it doesn't change a thing. "Darling", he mumbles, focusing on his fingers and picking something nonexistent from his nails, "I have no bloody idea how I should start this, fuck. This shouldn't be how you find out, or what you deserve."

"You can't tell me what I deserve"

"No, but I know it's not me"

He finally looks up, dark chocolate brown eyes locking onto yours. There is a longing in them, one you have seen on pictures of yourself whenever someone captured you staring at Moore at press conferences. One that surely must be reflected in your gaze a well.

You shuffle closer. Close enough that your knees brush against his thigh and he flinches, his head twitching to the other side but one of his hands betrays his effort of holding back. It drops down to your leg and as soon as the warmth of his palm makes contact with your naked skin you gasp. Rough finger pads start moving in circles as you lean into him.

"Is that why you ignored me after the kiss?", you ask, and he nods.

"You deserve another man, a better one. Jeez, look at me." He points at himself, raising an eyebrow that radiates disappointment over himself. "I could be old enough to be your father and when I realized I couldn't have you I picked up women who looked like you. That's not the standard you should go for. You can go for so much better"

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you are about to say, about to admit.

"Danny Moore" You lean in closer, the mattress dipping under the weight of both of you so close together and your body nearly topples onto him. You use both of your hands to steady yourself, fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans. "You don't get to kiss me, ignore me and try to replace me", your voice shakes, breath stuttering in beat with the double tempo your heart has taken to beat in.

When Danny looks at you again, there is a smile on his lips. "It was easier than doing the right thing."

"And which would have been?"

"Never stop bloody kissing you"

There is a second in which you simply stare at him, the wonderful and stupid man in front of you and then you kiss him. It's not as gentle as the first one you shared under a field of stars, not like you had imagined it ever since. It's messy and raw, your feelings pouring out of your mouth in desperate kisses and Danny answers. His hands find your waist under the shirt, holding onto you as he kisses you back and your eyes flutter close as his lips move against you in such a perfect way.

Both of you know you need to talk, need to figure out how to move on from this point- not right now though.

Right now you just give into the longing, the yearning, the hope blossoming in just the right circumstances.

And the Sehnsucht in your heart explodes, soars as it finally finds what it has been looking for.

#gran turismo fanfiction #orlando bloom fanfiction #orlando bloom x reader #danny moore fanfiction #danny moore x reader #danny moore x you #jack salter fanfiction #jack salter x reader #gran turismo david harbour

[starlightsearches]

I just need you to know that I have been thinking of Mix Tape nonstop ever since you posted it. The way that you write Eddie is *chefs kiss* and the stupidly cute mutual pining is everything. I love them and I am begging (in your own time and if you feel up to it at any point) for more to this story.

Mixtape pt. 2

part one here

I am so glad that you're obsessed with them because I am obsessed with them, too. I actually cried a little writing some of this :') I hope it lives up to the first part 💖

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated 🥰

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: the last part wasn't gendered, but the reader is jokingly referred to as Eddie's girlfriend in this one. No pronouns. Some angst but a very happy ending, lots of music references, language, and I'm very sorry if anyone feels I've misinterpreted the lyrics to Dio's Rainbow in the Dark 😬

You're still turning the little black button in your fingers when the bell above the door rings. The shelves are pretty tall between the entrance and where you stand, but you'd recognize the bright blue brim of that thinking cap anywhere.

"Hey Dustin," you can't help but smile at him as he appears, no matter how shitty you feel. He's a sweet kid, and his presence had grown on you—almost as much as Eddie's has. You were surprised to learn they were friends, at first—until you found out that Eddie spent most of his paychecks on new D&D manuals and that Dustin had the mouth of a sailor.

"Hey," he smiles back—a nice, big smile that makes his eyes go squinty—drumming his fingers on the counter, "is Eddie here?"

You feel your own smile falter, glancing back over your shoulder so he wouldn't notice. "Yeah, just in the back, I think."

You know that's where he is. You've been hiding from each other for the past hour.

Dustin nods, already familiar with the store layout even if the door to the back wasn't clearly labeled employees only. Eddie's voice reaches you through the opening Dustin leaves when he enters.

"Henderson! The fuck are you doing here?"

He sounds just like he always does—a thin veil of sarcasm doing nothing to hide the fact that he's happy to see Dustin. You can picture their greeting well enough, their clasped palms, Eddie's sweet smile.

Dustin responds in the same snarky tone. "Your girlfriend let me back."

That catches your attention. You reach for the dial on the radio beside you, turning the volume down as low as you could manage without attracting their notice, hoping to catch more of their conversation.

Too bad for you. There's no more words spoken between them; all you hear is a harsh shhh, and then some footsteps, followed by the sound of the door latching shut.

And then silence.

Your mind buzzes. Your girlfriend. Dustin had called you Eddie's girlfriend.

You do your best to temper the nerves in your stomach—he might just be making fun of you, teasing Eddie about your obsessive crush. Maybe Eddie was embarrassed, and he'd shut the door, hoping you wouldn't hear him and get any crazy ideas. Maybe he and Henderson were stifling their laughs right now, choked up about how gullible you could be.

There's only one way to find out.

Getting caught listening outside the door would be mortifying—like change your name and leave the state mortifying—so you grab the feather duster from beneath the counter and made your way to the back shelves.

It's quieter here, out of range of the radio speakers and further from the street entrance and the occasional roar of passing cars. There's always a lull around this time of day; it's just you and the deep rumble of Eddie's voice, muffled behind the wall.

You don't let yourself breathe, barely brushing the duster over the shelves, just to be sure it won't make any noise. It takes a moment for your ears to adjust, but you manage to piece together a few of the words he's saying.

Thought. Me. Never. Hasn't. None of them make any sense, not until the last.

Mixtape.

There was no avoiding it anymore. If you wanted any answers, you'd have to listen.

Your bag is behind the counter, and you rush back to it, digging through its depths until your fingers wrap around the cassette player.

His tape is still in there, even if you couldn't listen—carrying it around felt like you were keeping a piece of Eddie with you. Maybe the only piece you'd ever have. You'd spent plenty of time turning the tape in your fingers, tracing the shape of Eddie's messy scrawl on the label—your name, written in permanent marker.

You slip the headphones around your neck with shaking hands and a deep breath, popping one of the speakers over your ear and leaving the other free in case somebody walked in.

The tape whirs to life, putting you back where you'd last left off—about twenty seconds into the opening track. Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin.

It was one of the first songs you and Eddie had in common.

It had been maybe your second or third shift together. You'd been humming along at the register while he restocked some of the shelves, watching him warily. It was easy to feel intimidated by Eddie—he made sure of that with the way he dressed. Beyond showing him around the stock room and letting him know when you were going to take lunch, you'd hardly said three words to him. But you'd looked at him a lot.

You can still picture the way he'd leaned over the counter, with his shirt just riding up over the hem of his jeans, twisting the dial up with his long, slender fingers. Can still see the way he'd glanced up at you with his big, brown eyes, his mouth turned up at the corner.

"I love this song."

It was the first thing you could think to say, stunned stupid under his gaze. His smile grew wider, his head nodding in approval. When he winked at you, your heart raced.

"You have good taste."

The encounter had stayed on your mind for weeks after.

You press on the fast-forward button until it clicks, letting the tape wind past the song and its familiar melody. It's an hour and a half long tape, and you don't have time to listen to all of it, on a mission to find the one he'd said reminded him of you—the one about the rainbow in the dark.

You let it play every few minutes, and you recognize most of the songs—impromptu concerts you'd put on together in between customers, songs you'd argued bitterly over for weeks on end. You actually laugh out loud when you turn the tape and hear the opening chords to Wham!'s Heartbeat, thinking about the way he'd gotten on his knees, begging you to switch the station whenever it came on.

Your palms grow slick the closer you get to the end. Not a single song has even mentioned rainbows. Heart sinking, you just catch the ending of The Promise, and you wait for the familiar click signifying that the tape has ended. Instead you're met with a flood of guitar.

The new melody washes over you—stronger than you'd expected—and you slip the other headphone over your ear, ready to get lost in it.

It has to be this one. It has to be.

The lyrics aren't what you'd thought—or hoped—they would be. Nothing overly romantic. No I love yous or you complete mes. It's somber, really—all about what it feels like to be alone, without hope. No sign of the morning coming. No light at all.

. . . except the rainbow in the dark.

Oh.

You play it again, and again, listening closely to the lyrics, letting the notes twine through your fingers and the guitar shake your soul. When you go to swipe the headphones down around your neck, you find tears on your cheek.

It was a love song. All of them were. They were love songs because he loved them. They were love songs because he wanted to give them to you.

It was so easy to imagine him sat intently by his radio or with his boom box, waiting for each song to come on and sorting through tape after tape, hardly moving when it recorded so the audio could stay pure. How he'd picked each of these songs and remembered you, thought of you, dreamed of you. With every song he'd found and recorded, the words were repeated. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Eddie loved you.

You stand abruptly, throwing the cassette player to the table and ripping the mixtape from inside, running because you have to let him know that you love him, too.

The door flies open and you find Eddie pacing, Dustin sat on the step stool.

With one look at your tear stained face, Eddie's on Dustin, gripping him hard by the shoulder and forcing him out of the door.

"Out."

You hear him pushing Dustin towards the front despite the boy's high-pitched protests. The bell rings, and then Eddie's back, quicker than you thought possible.

He meets you with a few quick strides—immediately kicked into protective overdrive, stroking a soothing pattern over your skin with his thumbs, warm hands cupped around your arms and his eyes heavy with worry.

"Hey, baby, what happened? Did the creep come back? Because I've been telling you you don't have to talk to him anymore, okay? I can take care of it—"

You shake your head, forcing his silence. "It's not that."

He spies the cassette in your outstretched hands, and recognition dawns, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Oh."

That's all he can say.

You're both motionless in the silence, staring into each other's eyes, and you try to form your mouth around the words you've been wanting to say for way too long.

The only one's you manage are: "I didn't know."

There's relief in the grin he gives you, in the laugh that follows, and it breaks across his face like sunshine when he pulls you closer and you don't pull away.

"You didn't know," he repeats, staring up at the ceiling with a incredulous laugh, "honey, I thought I was being obvious."

And you're laughing, too, high-pitched and breathless, drunk on this feeling of his hands and his voice and his laugh. Your voice is small when you tell him the truth.

"I thought you were making fun of me."

Eddie's eyes go wide, his fingers inching forward, wrapping around your waist.

"About this, baby? Never. About your taste in music, though—"

You scoff in fake offense, rolling your eyes, but nothing sticks when you're feeling this happy. "Shut up."

You slap him on the shoulder just looking for an excuse to touch him. He traps your hand in his, pulling it to his heart, its beat under your fingers as familiar as your favorite song.

"How about you make me?"

Yeah, you can do that.

You press up onto your tiptoes, catching his lips against yours, and he kisses you back, bowing your spine under the weight of his insistence, one arm snaking around you, holding you close. He kisses you long, and soft, and deep—making up for lost time—the mixtape trapped between you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #my writing #requests

[starshooter-1004]

Namor- The Ocean Calls 10

Masterlist

Taglist: @alinefrank @deliciousfestsalad @couldnt-come-up-with-a-username @omgsuperstarg​ @lunamoonbby

The next morning I awoke, the spot and air around me cold. Opening my eyes the light was dim in my room. I sat up looking behind me hoping to see him; to my disappointment he was gone. Gathering the blanket around me I stepped out of bed toward the mirror. My neck and chest littered with love bites and bruises from last night. 

My hand ghosting over each one remembering how each one got there. I smiled recalling the soft touches and kisses from him. Last night felt different then before almost as if he had something to lose. Going over the table where my tea cup from Idris still sat I lifted it. The tea inside cold and stiff, a tear slipped down my face this would be the first morning I’m not greeted with her smile. 

I wouldn’t be reading with her or asking her non-sensical questions about the biome in the city. Placing the cup back on the table I turned toward the bed; the sheets and pillows scattered. There on the end of the bed a garment was folded and placed. Walking over I picked it up recognizing it as Namor’s; I hugged it to my chest. Today Namor would take his rage out on the country of Wakanda. 

Setting the cape down next to the tea cup on the table I made my way over to my bed. Pulling the book out between my mattress I looked for the same tunnel as yesterday. Gathering my suit and changing my clothes I made my way out of my hut to run into a guard. He turned looking at me not saying a word; I was frozen in my spot. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I was just heading to the library,” I made my way passed him but he stepped in-front. He shook his head and motioned to my door again. 

“Am I not allowed to leave?” I asked biting back frustration. He again didn’t say anything only looking at me emotionless. I took a deep breath before nodding and turning back into my hut. Closing the door behind me, I looked around hoping for a discreet exit. 

The main pool must be blocked off as well; grabbing my book I looked for alternate routes to the west of Wakanda. Running low on time I ripped the page from my book; looking out the window of my hut the guard had stepped away. I opened my door looking around and seeing no sign before quickly exiting to the back of my hut. Pulling the map out I compared my reference to my surroundings before here the steady stream of a fall.

If my map is accurate this pool runs deep and a separate cavern ventures into the main one to the city. Activating my suit I dove into the pool straight down; looking to my right I watched the water run down stream. The current gently carrying me down; I appeared into the city. 

Looking up I headed towards the military faction; entering I saw a handful of soldiers prepping a whale for the trip. I stealthily made my way over grabbing a helmet and body armor to disguise myself. Gathering into a crowd I was handed a spear and headed toward the massive mammal. Looking forward I watched the soldiers gripping the rope around the animal. A drum was heard and the animal calling before moving forward.

As the speed increased my body began to go horizontal against the animal. My grip was weak and faltering holding on with two hands still holding the weapon. Fear creeped into me afraid of being discovered. A hand suddenly wrapped around mine keeping my grip in place. Slowly turning I was greeted my a familiar face, Attuma. I quickly averted my eyes before he could notice, pulling myself tighter against the mammal. 

The ride was like nothing I’ve ever experienced; I was riding a whale. Well… Kind of, if you call the assistance of Namor’s general help. Attuma soon let go making his way toward the head of the whale as it began to surface. We surfaced and I was surrounded by a grand city; this was Wakanda. Never have I thought I was to see the city in the flesh since outsiders couldn’t enter freely. The soldiers began chanting as they went back under water swimming to shore; falling in with the group I followed. 

Once my feet greeted the ground I made my way away from the crowd to the right of the beach. Taking the helmet off I deactivated my suit; I walked into a market as shops were flooded. The screams of people surrounded me, my senses were all over taking in the chaos around me. These poor people were collateral damage to Idris’s death and Namor’s rage. 

I dropped my body armor and helmet running down a alley way into a city square. A wave coming down to the left of me; someone running and knocking me back as the water got closer. I quickly got to my feet and behind a tall stone pillar at the water smashed against it. My hands were shaking my adrenaline through the roof; I heard the cry of help from someone ahead of me. 

It was an older man with debris over his legs; I ran over trying to push the debris off of him. Seeing I wasn’t strong enough I grabbed a thick broken board propping it under and using my body weight against it. A bystander ran over assisting the man out from beneath; the man nodded at me and I let the board go as the debris fell back.

“Are you alright?” I asked kneeling down to access his legs. Pulling up the legs of his pants his shoes missing deep cuts were exposed. Looking at the other man assisting I pointed to the door behind him.

“In their quickly,” I said. Taking the mans arm around my shoulders we made our way inside. I ripped a piece of my dress off to wrap around the wound to cease the bleeding. The man soon pushed me aside and showing me his wrist.

“Kimoyo beads this will help with the pain and stop the blood flow,” he said. Pulling one off he placed it beneath my cloth applying pressure; the older gentleman wincing at the pressure. 

“Go, I can take care of him get too somewhere safe,” said the man. I nodded thanking him before exiting the building. The street cleared but water still flooding the roads. I looked around hoping to see anyone, seeing a person running I followed in suit.

The jets of the planes ahead rang around me from above. The sounds of war was around me as warriors of Talokan attacked Jabari tribesmen. Soon a Taloknian soldier appeared in front of me. I put my hands out in front of me as he readied to strike with his spear. Covering my head as the spear came forward I was saved by a figure. Looking up I saw Attuma grabbing the spear and shoving the soldier back having him loose his grip on his weapon. 

The soldier looked up in shock at the general who through his weapon on the ground at his feet. Attuma then turned to me, putting his hand out he took me. A sinking feeling fell in my gut as Attuma wordlessly lead me through the streets back to the fishing docks. There Namora and soldiers rounded the corner and out of the water appeared Namor. His eyes scanning the crowd before falling to mine as I stood a bit behind Attuma. Namor’s face going cold and angry as he made his over to me. 

“What are you doing here!?” He yelled.

“Do you know the danger you are putting yourself in! One of my soldiers could’ve killed you,” he fumed. 

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t go on knowing you were doing this,” I countered.

“Your killing innocent people!” I yelled stepping around Attuma.

“These are surface dwellers there all the same,” Namor replied.

“Do not blame Wakanda for the suppression of your ancestors; that’s not fair!” I stood toe to toe with Namor now. Namor’s anger now boiling, before saying another word we suddenly was interrupted by a yell. Namor putting his arm up blocked the oncoming assault by a Jabari soldier. Namor turning punched his fist into the chest of the man as he went soaring into a kiosk. 

“Take her back now,” Namor commanded Namora.

“You and I will talk later,” Namor said to me before flying up. Namora walked over to me activating my suit and taking my arm dragging me to the water. I grabbed her wrist digging my heels into the sand. I am no prisoner and I will not be treated like one. 

Soon shots rang down from the sky onto the shore; the ship sending sand flying causing Namora to covering her eyes. I fell back from the explosion sand entering my mouth causing me to cough. I soon felt a pair of arms circle me pulling me back inland. Looking through my irritated eyes I saw a Wakandian waving down a medical place above.

Pulling me and laying me down a beam came from the plane lifting us up. Once in the ship I was brought to a bed on the floor and given a wet cloth to clean the sand from my face. Once my ears stopped ringing I took in my surroundings I was in a ship. We hovered above another spot this time a member of the Dora Milajae and Princess Shuri arrived. 

I was pulled to my feet by a woman who buckled me into the seat as Shuri sat next to me. A child laid next to my feet now as a doctor was giving CPR. I sat in shock this is what war on the frontlines is like; the life of children not even safe in the eyes of Namor’s revenge. 

Looking out the window Shuri began to shout to the pilot. We took a hard left toward a tall building toward the edge of the city. A huge water explosion emitting from it and a figure floating by. My heart sank as I noticed the figure; Namor stood there as we pulled up to the roof. Shuri quickly unbuckled herself as we landed sprinting out and three others following. 

I got my bearing and soon followed close behind; I ran down the grand hallways and into the main conference room. The water pouring out from the door Shuri crying out as two women applied CPR to the queen and a girl. I froze taking in the scene and looking forward to Namor.

“Bury your dead, mourn your loses…” pointing to Shuri “You are queen now,” Namor found my eyes at the door entrance. He looked away before faltering and flying away diving into the river below. Shuri cried out and the male soldier turned toward the door. Stopping he recognized me quickly making his way toward me. 

Taking a step back he grabbed my arms; I looked up as a tear ran down my face. He looked at me with disgust before dragging me into the room throwing me to the floor before the two bald women. 

“She was on the shore talking with the fishman. I think they know each other,” the man said. One of the women pressed a spear beneath my chin; my lip trembled. 

“We will take her,” the woman said. My head fell as a sob came from me. 

#namor imagine #namor of talokan #namor x reader #namor x you #black panther #marvel imagine #marvel #ku'ku'lkán

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring Chapter 7

Find Chapter 6 here!

Also on Ao3 :)

“Tamlin,” Lucien said cautiously, imploringly.

He looked so astonished at the sight before him, the two of them covered in paint and breathing heavily, that Penny almost burst out laughing, the adrenaline of the last few minutes buzzing in her veins. Tamlin cleared his throat as he swiped his sleeve over his face to remove some of the remaining paint. All the mirth of seconds before was gone from him entirely as he looked to Lucien.

“Why are you here, Lucien?” The voice was sharp and caustic, but Penny could hear the undercurrent of hurt in it. The tension could be cut with a knife.

“Rhys sent me. He got your letter.” Penny felt as though the room had filled with a crackle of energy. Weeks in, they’d all but forgotten the letter she’d sent, assuming that they didn’t want or need her information. She hadn’t thought about it one bit in the last few days, and clearly, Tamlin had put it out of his head, as well. She could feel the rage and irritation rolling off of his skin and ricocheting up her arms like static.

“I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to,” Tamlin gritted out between clenched teeth. “Now, I must ask that you leave my court. Certainly, you remember how.” The barb hit home, and Penny saw the light in Lucien’s eyes gutter. Regardless, he remained outwardly calm.

“Feyre recognized the smell of Spring on the letter. Your scent, among others. We know it came from you, from the manor.” His eyes shot to Penny. “I assume the letter came from you.” The second the words slipped out, he seemed to backtrack, as if wondering if truly Tamlin hadn’t known, and he’d just inadvertently put her into harm's way. The notion infuriated her. She shook off the anger at the unspoken suggestion, and stepped around Tamlin with her hand outstretched.

“Hello, Lucien. My name is Penny. I did send the letter, though we had hoped to remain anonymous. It seems I overlooked the ability to scent such things in my haste to help. Though you all surely did not make haste in your reply.”

He took her hand as though to kiss it, looked over her shoulder, shook it awkwardly instead, and dropped it with an uncomfortable cough. Penny couldn’t help but smile as the former emissary fumbled his way through this entire interaction. Clever fox, indeed. How naive she’d been to think that letter could have arrived to them anonymously. At this range, Penny could scent Lucien, though. She thought Lucien smelled like cinnamon and apples and a day in the sun. She knew their senses of smell were sharply honed like that of a predator. Tamlin had been right to be cautious, and she’d steamrolled straight over him.

“Hello, Penny. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance. How do you find yourself here in Spring?” The questioning tone remained, though Lucien was a clearly trained courtier. Penny took a deep breath to calm herself at the sharp sting of rage that bounced through her at the implication that she wasn’t safe here.

Before she could respond, Tamlin all but growled from behind her “She is my guest.” She knew his anger was at its limit. “I want you out of my house, Lucien. Now.” Penny knew they were moments away from an eruption.

“I barged in on Tamlin’s manor a few weeks ago, and he’s been gracious enough to allow me to stay, despite the fact that I am not, at all times, the most pleasant guest.” She allowed the glint in her eyes and the smile on her face to show the slightest threat. “So, you may tell Rhysand that Tamlin’s guest is here of her own free will, and not a hostage of any sort.” She raised an eyebrow at his shock, apparent across his face.

“My lady, I did not mean to imply–”

“No, no of course not. But to make it perfectly clear. I am here of my own accord, and here I will stay as long as Tamlin will allow me to. I wrote the letter in hopes that I could provide some information in order to help Prythian with any of the upcoming conflicts with the Death God, but I will not have Tamlin put out in order for me to do it.”

Lucien nodded, wariness still evident on his face. He looked to Tamlin again. “You know I will have to inform Rhysand of what I’ve seen here, right?” Penny could feel the house rumble beneath their feet. She was astonished at how calm Lucien was able to remain in the presence of Tamlin’s barely leashed fury.

Tamlin, seemingly unable to take another second, turned his eyes to Penny. She almost drew back at the darkness and rage and grief within them. The sorrow was so deep she could swear she felt it wrap around her own heart as though it was suffocating her. “I told you I didn’t want to send the letter.” He turned back to Lucien. “I won’t tell you again to get out.” Then he turned, slammed open the front doors with a flick of his wrists, and walked out.

Lucien sighed deeply and turned to Penny. “Are you certain you’re okay here with him?” The last tether holding back her anger snapped and she whirled away from the doors to turn on him.

“You know, none of you are helping him when you treat him this way. He fucked up, but this is a different male than he was three years ago. You all might notice if you’d give him the benefit of the doubt a single time. He’s trying so incredibly hard to be the person this court deserves, and every time any of you come up, he’s thrust back. How can you ever expect him to heal if you keep forcing him back down?” Her chest was heaving from her tirade.

Suddenly embarrassed, she drew back. Lucien’s eyes flared with something like sympathy, but she could see the understanding and respect there, too.

“I apologize, Lady Penny. Tamlin was once my closest friend, and it was never my intent to offend him, or you, for that matter. You’re correct. It has been years since I’ve considered myself to be someone who knows him. But I let him mistreat a lady in his home once before, and in my own healing I vowed to never sit idle and allow that again. I had to be sure.” She understood, she did. She could see both sides. She sighed deeply, her rage all but deflating in her chest.

Tamlin had made such mistakes before and during the war. But she saw how he tried. How he fought the lessons beaten into him again and again over centuries. She saw how he resisted his impulses to anger and tried every day to be better. She wasn’t sure where the aggression she’d felt had come from–it wasn’t like her to be so possessive over someone else. But she knew that the damage done here tonight would drag him back to the depths of sadness that she’d found him in. She knew how hurt the accustation would have made him, how he’d spend the rest of the night once the rage wore off, desperate and wallowing in misery about the monster he felt he was.

“You must allow him the space to heal if you expect him to. You must give him the grace to do so without assuming the worst in him. He is a good male. I have seen it.”

“Clearly, I have assumed incorrectly. I apologize for my part in this tonight. I still have to tell Rhys and Feyre what happened, but I will emphasize that you are here of your own accord. I will tell them to approach this with caution and aplomb.” He bowed his head.

“Thank you, Lucien. I know he is changing. He is not the monster that he believes he is.” She saw him to the door, grasping his forearm gently as he went to depart.

“For what it’s worth, Penny, in those moments before you both saw me…Never, in all the years I spent here, have I seen Tamlin run or play with anyone. For any reason.” He gave her a roguish smirk and a wink, but before she could shoot back a retort, he had winnowed away into nothing.

___________________

Penny had no idea how long Tamlin would be gone, but she knew the damage was done and that the best course was to let him work it out and come back as he wished. She wasn’t going to pry in and play therapist for him. This was something he needed to work through on his own, and she would be there to help him with that if he asked.

The evening was beautiful, and since Tamlin was gone, she didn’t want to make the kitchen staff slave over a dinner no one was eating. She sent them off early and decided to put together a basket of food for herself and eat outdoors in the garden gazebo. She’d never had so many opportunities to eat outside, and just being out under the open sky more left her constantly feeling lighter and happier. She remembered how desperate she’d been to be outdoors before, and having these sorts of opportunities given so freely to her felt like a true gift.

She threw some cheese, bread, dried meats, fruits, and apple turnovers from breakfast into a basket, along with some candles and matches. Hoisting the basket up on her hip, she trekked out to the gazebo to set up her little picnic.

The sun was setting and coloring the rolling hills with the most beautiful oranges, reds, pinks, and purples. As she set up, she gazed at the beauty and couldn’t believe that such a place could truly be real. She took out each of the candles and set them around the gazebo, holding one in her hand. Tamlin had mentioned before, both in the early days and while they trained, that he suspected she might have powers beyond what a normal human would. He said he could feel them thrumming and calling out to his magic, and, if she was being honest, she could somewhat understand what he meant. Any time he entered a room, she could feel a buzzing beneath her skin. Whether it was attraction or magic or both, she wasn’t positive.

With a desire to slake her curiosity, she focused on the candle. What were they always saying in books and movies? Set your intent? Manifest? She focused on the tiny wick of the red candle and thought as hard as she could of a little flame appearing there. With a start, the candle roared to life with far more intensity than she had imagined, and it sent Penny reeling back.

“Jesus!” The candle fell and she blew it out before it could catch anything else on fire. “We’ll be sticking with matches from now on.” She lit the half-warped and melted candle with a match this time and set it out to burn beneath the darkening sky.

She could hardly believe as she laid back and watched the stars start to twinkle to life on the edges of the twilight that she was the same girl who had curled into herself on the couch each night, her back to the windows and her heart closed to anything new.

She took a deep breath. Thankful. She was so goddamn thankful that she had fallen here. Even if it was a mess right now. Even if Tamlin was furious with her. This life was more than she could have ever imagined. She had pushed him into writing that letter, and she did feel bad that she’d put him in a position that caused him so much anguish. She hoped he would listen when he returned, and that this wouldn’t get in the way of the friendship, or whatever it was, blooming between them.

Penny recalled his breath at her ear in the foyer earlier. The way it had skirted over the skin of her neck like the caress of a lover. She had been seconds away from tilting her head back into it. If Lucien hadn’t shown up when he had, she likely would have. She couldn’t deny the feelings that grew inside her for Tamlin. She never clicked this way with anyone, never felt understood this way. All her dates had been a waste of time, but with him she felt like she could tell him every thought without judgment.

He was a work in progress, but so was she. She knew he was working to be better, and she had meant everything she’d said to Lucien earlier. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes with a groan. She’d hurt him today. Unintentionally, of course, but he had every right to be upset. She only hoped that when he did return, he would be willing to hear her out so she could apologize.

A snapping twig from the woodline had Penny shooting up on the gazebo. Fuck, had she brought anything that would work as a weapon? She fumbled around for the cheese knife in the basket while watching the tree line furiously. There could be any number of monsters out there. She tried to recall any of the ones discussed in the books and desperately tried to recall how she might save herself while she simultaneously calculated how quickly she could get to the house. Most, if not all, the staff was gone because she’d sent them home. Would any of the sentries across the grounds hear if she screamed?

Then, from the treeline broke the figure of Tamlin. Her body sagged with relief and she almost laughed. Without warning, and as though she had no control of her body at all, she staggered up and ran across the expanse of grass towards him.

“Tamlin?” She called out. His head snapped up, and when he saw her his face broke into the most incredible smile. It stopped her breath straight in her chest, so much so that she halted steps away from him.

“Penny.” Her name came out as a whisper on his breath. He took a step forward.

“Yes?” She responded, equally breathless in the moment.

“I am so sorry. I am so sorry I left.”

“No. Tamlin, I’m sorry. I put you in such a shit position. I should have listened to you.” Another step closer.

“I shouldn’t have left. You had every right to write to them. You have every right to everything. I would never stop you. I would never hold you back. You know that, right?” Penny could see the silver lining his eyes at the admission and his hands twitching as though he was restraining himself from reaching for her. She didn’t have to guess what he was remembering. She closed the final step between them and took his hands.

“I know, Tam. I know. It’s alright. I am here because I want to be. I am here with you.” His body sagged against hers, the relief pouring out of him, and she laid her head against his chest. She could hear his heart racing against her cheek. “Are you hungry? I was having a picnic.” He chucked above her, wetly, and she wondered if he might have been crying.

“Sure, Penny. Show me to your picnic.” They parted, but he didn’t drop her hand, and she was glad for it.

The two sat in the gazebo as the sun fully set and the rest of the stars came to life around them.

“In a way, I am grateful you know everything that happened already.” Tamlin said through a mouthful of bread.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It keeps me accountable.” She could tell the events of the day were weighing heavily on him.

“Penny, I know you know, but can I tell you what happened?” She’d never seen him look so open.

“Of course you can. I’m here, and I’m listening.”

He began by telling her about his parents. How his mother did the best she could as the Lady of Spring, but that she and his father truly couldn’t stand each other. They’d been mates, but it had never been a match of love. His older brothers had always fought for dominance and for the promise of the throne, but Tamlin had been spared that by being the youngest by far. It had not, however, spared him of his father’s cruelty.

“My father was a lot like Beron in many ways. He could not abide by any form of perceived weakness in his bloodline. He kept my mother on a leash, and he kept me and my brothers at each other’s throats. With no claim to the throne, he sent me off to the war bands when I was all but still a child. I didn’t even get to finish my education here as my brothers did. For a long time, the only friend I did have was Rhysand.” He quieted here as he gazed off at the distant stars. “He saw how lost I was and he took pity on me, I think. I thought of him as a brother–the first light I ever remember having in my life.” He swallowed hard.

“I’d come home–planned to run away once I returned to the war camps. Rhys had told me that there would always be a place for me in his home in the Night Court, and I planned to run. He had told me his mom and sisters would meet me, so we’d arranged a plan. Once everything I needed was packed, I went to leave, but my mother caught me as I tried to go. She looked so crushed, and it wasn’t her fault. None of this was. When she asked where I planned to go, I told her. I didn’t want her to worry–I couldn’t stand being the cause of any more of her misery. But once I had told her and went to kiss her goodbye, my father stepped out of the shadows behind her. He’d heard everything, and he whipped me within an inch of my life. He locked me in the crypts while he went to kill them.” The tears were rolling down his face as he spoke, remembering in vivid detail the worst nights of his life.

“I knew my father was cruel; I’d never been under any illusions about what he was. But I never would have knowingly had any part in it. He released me when he returned home after her’d slaughtered them. I was already plotting how I could kill him.” He gasped like he’d been holding his breath and forgotten to come up for air.

“Then Rhys and his father were there. They’d killed my father, mother, and brothers before I even understood they were in the manor. It all happened so fast that, when the power jumped to me and Rhys’ father tried to kill me, I just reacted. Then he was dead, too. Everyone I had known and cared for was dead. I tried to explain to Rhys what had happened, but he wouldn’t let me. Suddenly, I was the High Lord of Spring with no idea of what to do. How could I know? My father had cut off my lessons. All I knew was violence and war. I was a savage with a crown.”

Penny grabbed for his hand in the dark, tears burning through her eyes now, too.

“I burned their wings the same week my father died. I cried and cried under the night sky. I had no one left, and I felt like it was my fault. I tried for years to be a good ruler, but I was so angry. I looked for someone to blame because I needed that to rely on. Lucien helped–he helped so much. It seemed like I was just finally starting to get everything under control when Amarantha came.” His breath shuttered out at the mention of her name.

“I caused so much suffering just because of who I was. So many lives lost on the off chance we might break the curse. The guilt overwhelmed me for decades, and then when the opportunity” –he spit the word– “basically fell into my lap, I had no idea what to do. Feyre was wild and she hated me, and I was never any good at talking to people. Lucien was always much better at that.” Penny leaned up against Tamlin’s side and wound their fingers together.

“Do you miss him?”

He choked on a sob. “Every single day. Lucien was my first friend in centuries. I treated him horribly, and he left me. He should have left me. Everyone left me, but I always thought I would have him.” She felt the tears drop from his chin onto her shoulder.

“I should have done more. I should have done everything differently. I should have fought for Feyre under the mountain, but I thought if I did that Amarantha would kill her. I should have given her more consideration when we got home, but I could barely get out of my own bed for fear. I was paralyzed with worry for her, even as a fae. I had watched her die, and it seemed like she wanted to put herself right back into danger at every turn, and my only instinct was to protect her. I went about it all wrong, and I fucked everything up. When she left with Rhys, all I could see was another thing taken from me. I never imagined that for her it was freedom.” He said miserably.

“It seemed like he stole her–he made it seem that way. He was my enemy and had been for hundreds of years. I assumed this was another form of revenge. He’s the most powerful daemati in Prythian, we just assumed he was in her head. Why wouldn’t we? And Feyre tried to tell us. She tried to send word that she was safe. She was happy. But Feyre couldn’t even read let alone write while she was here, so of course we imagined it a forgery. I feel so stupid looking back. All I wanted to do was protect her, but I was blind to every possible thing. I dragged us into war because of it, and I will never forgive myself.” The tears were falling in big drops down onto her arm now.

“I have regretted it every single day since. I tried my best to make up for it in the war and the time since, but the damage is done. They’ll only ever see me as a monster. And they’re right. I let it all paralyze me, and then when I did something, it couldn’t have been a worse mistake. I will spend the rest of my days making up for it, but I will always be the monster they think I am.” His voice cracked on the last admission. Penny turned and reached up to touch his face. Her thumbs brushed the tears over his cheeks.

“Tamlin, you are not a monster. We have all made mistakes. But a monster is not concerned with whether or not he remains one. You are a good male. You have a heart full of love, or this wouldn’t affect you the way it does. I see you, Tamlin. I know what it feels like to be paralyzed by your fear. But I see you fighting it every day. I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t.” His eyes had closed, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I am very glad to have met you, Penny Briggs.”

“Me too, Tamlin. Me too.” She whispered.

The moon had risen high in the sky and the candles burned low when they packed up the food and went back towards the house.

They cleaned everything up in the kitchen and walked up to their rooms. Paused in front of her door, Tamlin gingerly grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. In turn, he kissed each of her knuckles as she stared at him.

I could kiss him. I could. The thought ricocheted through her mind and, as if in response, his eyes drifted to her lips. He took a deep breath.

“Goodnight then, Penny.” He whispered. And before she could loose a breath or respond, he had dropped her hand and gone through the door to his own room.

As she drifted off to sleep, all she could hear was the string of words in her mind– We should have kissed. We should have kissed. We should have kissed.

#tamlin #tamlin oc #pro tamlin #tamlin x oc #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #elucien #feysand #gwynriel #tamdemption #tamlins hea #a court of thorns and roses au #hope of spring

[blairsanne]

Do You Miss Me?

For the Deano Bingo 2022 event!

Prompts: Anders Johnson - "Admit it, you missed me." - Phone sex. The Almighty Johnsons - Anders & female Reader 1732 words

Summary: You go to Wellington for a few days and Anders doesn't think he can be patient anymore. CW: 18+, NSFW, smut, masturbation, phone sex.

“So, do you miss me?”

You shut your eyes as you leaned your head back against the plush headrest on the bed you were sitting in. It was your second night in a luxury hotel, hours away from Auckland on business. 

Hours away from Anders, whose purring voice through the phone only made you wish even more that he’d been able to join you. The swanky digs were exactly the sort of place he’d have loved, and you knew he’d have come up with some way to pass the nights after your work was over with.

“Hm, no,” you lied in a teasing tone. “It’s been nice having a couple quiet, restful nights.”

You heard him laugh on the other end of the line, knowing you were referring to his insatiable libido and the many long nights you’d spent at his flat only to wake up still tired the next morning.

“Oh good, then. Maybe you should stay in Wellington since you’re so much happier.”

You hummed, pulling your legs up against your chest as you glanced toward the tall window, the final rays of sunset fading to a cool blue din.

“Do you miss me?” you finally asked in reply, your voice no longer holding the same playful tone it had moments earlier.

“Every minute.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his assertion, the low rumble of his response catching you off-guard. You wished you could see his face then, kiss the frown from it that you’d heard in this voice.

“Two more sleeps,” you assured him, feeling guilty now for having joked about it earlier. You heard him huff a bit, and you licked your lips.

“Not sure I can wait that long.”

You felt a chill, anxiety bubbling up in your gut. “What are you saying?” Was he going to break up with you? Go find some other company for the night?

“Are you alone right now?”

You frowned. “Of course I’m-”

“Humor me a little, hm?” he purred, and you shut your eyes as you recognized the low, echoing tones of his Bragi voice.

You sucked in a slow breath, simultaneously annoyed that he was using that voice on you when he knew it turned you on, and happy that he still wanted to.

“You are the god here,” you replied tensely, rolling your eyes.

He laughed again, under his breath. “Mm, that I am.” He waited a beat. “First I want you to start by turning off all the lights in your room.”

You chewed your lip, having a sneaking suspicion of where he was going with this.

“Can you do that, gorgeous?”

You reached over and flicked off the one lamp that you still had on, casting the room into a general darkness.

“It’s done.” “Can you describe the room for me? Where are you? What can you see right now?” “Mm…” 

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the low light, the only illumination provided by the street below but obscured by the sheer curtains. 

“I’m sitting in a king-sized bed, all by myself… It’s sort of dark now, but there’s a television on the wall, and a desk…”

“Is it warm or cold?” “It’s comfortable. The duvet cover is so silky it almost feels cool, but it warmed up where I’m sitting.” “Hm. And can you smell anything?”

You took a few deep breaths. “Like… someone else’s laundry soap. Clean, but strange.”

You heard him laugh through his nose, trying to keep it in. “Is there a window?” “Yeah, it’s tall and the sheers are letting in some light, even though it’s night now. It’s like a spotlight on the chaise lounge thing over there.”

“Hm. That sounds like a fun place to lay.” You snickered. “If you were here, definitely.” “I’m here with you.”

You sat up a bit straighter. “What? You came to Wellington?” “Here on the line. It’s just like if we were together.”

When you hummed in disappointed disagreement, his tone turned sultry again. “Close your eyes,” he purred, and so you complied as his voice echoed low and potent in your ears. “I’m right there, gorgeous, moving up your body. Can’t you smell my cologne? Can’t you feel my breath on your neck as I try to decide where to kiss you?”

You shivered, a tingling sensation moving up your spine. You opened your eyes, wondering if he truly understood the power he had over you.

“Anders?” “Mm?” “Where are you right now?” You heard the cocky grin in his voice. “I’m at home. All the lights are off, and I’m in my bed, wishing you were here instead of this pillow that smells like that shampoo of yours.”

You were touched by his admission, warmth spreading through your chest and over your cheeks at the sweet comment. “Two sleeps,” you repeated.

“What are you wearing?” “My silk pajamas.” “Ah, the little shorts and tank set?” “Yeah.”

He let out an appreciative hum. “I like those on you.” “I know.” He laughed. “What are you wearing?” “Just my watch.”

You squirmed a bit imagining that, wishing he was there with you and not back in Auckland. You let out a small groan. “You’re just teasing me now.”

He snorted. “Let’s tease each other, eh? If I was there with you right now, what would we be doing?” You took a shaky breath. “I suppose…” You shut your eyes and pictured him sitting in the bed beside you. “I’d sit on your lap, and press against you while you kissed me?” “Mm, yeah.” His heavy breath caused a static sound on the call. “I like it when you grind on me like that. I’d slip that silky top off. Worship those perfect tits of yours.”

You ran your hand over your own breasts, feeling your nipples bead up as you wished it was his hands and mouth instead. “Mm, and when you were done I’d lick your hot neck, and kiss you… lower… and lower… until-” You stopped short when you hear a hitch in his breathing. “Are you touching yourself, Anders?” “Aren’t you?” he asked in return just a little too innocently.

“Er- not just yet.” “Not yet?” He let out a small laugh, bedroom activities always seeming to fill him with joy.

You pulled your knees against your chest and ran your hand down the back of your thigh.

“Remember the other day?” he purred. “When you sucked on my fingers? God, that was so  hot.” He sighed happily. “Put your fingers in your mouth, gorgeous.”

You lifted your free hand to your lips, two fingers resting lightly on your bottom lip as you hesitated. You slipped them over your tongue, closing your eyes as you remembered the slightly salty taste of his skin that night.

“Suck on them like a good girl,” he continued, “and remember how good it felt when I fucked you. You made me so hard… and I couldn’t help myself… and you took me so well, baby.” You let out a small whine, remembering the night quite well as you squeezed your thighs together. You wanted him between them again as you pictured the hungry look in his eyes as he’d pressed his thick fingers against your tongue. He’d pushed one of your legs up as he’d filled you, his thrusts pushing him to your deepest points inside, and you’d gotten overstimulated by the time he’d had his fill.

“Good,” he praised, his voice dark with lust. “Now put those wet fingers to use where my tongue should be right now.”

You let your fingertips collect saliva as you dragged them out of your mouth, then did as you were told. You slipped your hand between yourself and your panties, wet fingers meeting wet folds that ached for your lover.

You breathed heavily against the phone, need flooding your senses.

“That’s my girl,” Anders praised. “Talk to me.” “It’s not fair,” you whined slightly. “Getting me so worked up when I’m so far away.” “Can’t help it, I’m afraid. I’m a bit of a bastard, so I’m told.” You laughed, and heard him join you. “It’s just… your mouth would feel so much better than my hand, you know?” He gave a low hum through the line, and you knew you’d affected him.

You put on a breathier voice, trying to work him up as much as he’d done to you. “You’re so good at making me come, so having to do it myself just feels mean now.” “Mm, when you get back to Auckland, I’ll make you come as much as you want.” You let out a quiet moan, knowing he was good on his word; at least when it came to sexual promises. There had never been a time with Anders where he didn’t satisfy you completely.

You slowly slid down until you were laying flat on the bed, your hand doing its best to stimulate your clit the way he did.

“What are you picturing right now?” he asked, voice ragged.

“You over me in your bed, pinning me down and being rough like the night we went to that movie last week.” “Oh yeah,” he enthused. “You begged for more, so I had to oblige.” “Such a thoughtful man,” you breathed, feeling yourself getting close.

“I can’t help it when you say my name like that.” You knew exactly what he meant, and did so then, your voice full of praise and wanton pleading. “Anders…”

The mental image of him fucking you hard and deep like he had that night soon pushed you over the edge, and you moaned as your orgasm washed over you, finally granting you relief.

“Fuck, you sound so hot right now.”

Catching your breath as your body calmed down, you didn’t reply, instead listening intently to him. You heard him mutter a bit more and then let out a groan that you knew meant he’d gotten off listening to you.

You slowly sat up, still holding the phone to your ear as you leaned against the headrest again. “Well, that was… unexpected.”

You both let out small laughs, and you could hear his grin.

“Admit it, you missed me.”

You chewed your lower lip, picturing him laying in his bed, naked and panting. Whether you’d admit it outright or not, you looked forward to being there with him in person next time.

---

A/N: I have to admit I'm pretty unsure about this whole thing, I hope it was alright. I had intentionally not put things from Anders's perspective because phone sex is sort of like that, but I think that's why I'm struggling with this fic in particular. I hope it was okay despite that, but if not, I'm sorry, haha.

Tags: Everything: @the-poldarkian @i-did-not-mean-to @the-butterfly-blues Almighty Johnsons: @midearthwritings @laurfilijames Deano: @feeweeeee Because we talked about it: @i-am-still-bb

If you'd like to be added or removed from any taglists please just let me know at any time! ♥

#deanobingo2022 #anders johnson smut #anders johnson #anders johnson x female reader #anders johnson x reader #the almighty johnsons fanfic

[magnoliabutters]

• THE FIRST BLOOD RITE •

pairing: neteyam x augustine (na’vi/avatar oc, she/her)

summary: neteyam and augustine have finally found themselves underneath the tree of souls, what else is there left to do?

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; avatar 2009 references and avatar wow spoilers; angst, jealousy, arranged & complex relationships, violence, heavy make out sesh, light fingering, suicidal thoughts, pet names, etc.

word count: ~4.5k

• part 4 • eywa’s choice • series •

note: this one's gonna be a doozy. i'm so excited for y'all to read! i really am a fan of the na'vi language, i'm sorry if that annoys any readers. just like last time, na'vi words are bolded and will have definitions in the footnotes of the section. translations sourced via learn na'vi. as a reminder, the story is set 4 years post twow. neteyam is 19, where augustine is 18.

“I choose you,” Augustine says. Her heart fully within his grasp. He can choose between holding it carefully or crushing it under his mighty will. Neteyam looks to her queue and back up to her eyes. He swallows as he intertwines his fingers with her resting hand. “Augustine,” he says. His big amber eyes sweet and filled with adoration. “I think I’ve loved you since I first met you,” he laughs. She giggles, blush rushing her cheeks.

Neteyam’s smile falls, then his eyes. “But,” he starts as he shakes his head. “I can’t do this.” His eyes flick up to her. The adoration, the sweetness? Gone. They are filled with sadness and worry. She drops her tswin as she slowly nods, chewing on her bottom lip. Overwhelming feelings rush through her. How could she be so stupid to think this was a good idea? How could she ever step away from this, unscathed? Any hopeless romantic fantasies of Neteyam and her were ruined.

He continues, “When we become one, I want it to be right. I don’t want it to be a secret.” His hand now cups the side of her face. Hope flickers within her heart once again. Her eyes widen as she looks up to her mesmerizing partner. His mouth flashing that incredible Sully smile. He continues, “When we become one, I want it to be right, Ma’Augustine.”

"Who said this would be a secret?" Augustine asks with a smirk that catches him off guard. "I plan on fully parading you around as my mate," she adds as she presses her nose against him with a bit lip. "Oh you would, would you?" he chuckles as he pulls away. She kisses his chin, then his cheek. "Yes, I would be proud to call you mine," she whispers. "I've always admired you. Always saw your strength, your protection, your leadership." She looks off in the distance, with brows pushing together, as she recollects their past.

"I've seen you complete iknimaya on your first try," she starts enthusiastically. Neteyam blushes as he rolls his eyes. "No, no, please Nete," she says as she places her hands on his cheeks. “But what was really impressive was when I saw how you were waiting for Lo'ak to come back from his rites. How you held him as he sobbed into your shoulder. How you helped him, trained him to be successful in his next shot at bonding with his ikran," she lists off. She places a hand to his chest and takes in a deep breath. "You were always the protector, never the protected. Always the fighter, never defended."

Augustine adjusts her sit once more. She places his hand atop her chest as she rubs her thumb against his peck. He follows her without doubt. His trust for her is abundant. "I want to be yours. I want to be your protector. Your defender," she sighs in worry due to her vulnerability. With a whisper, she continues, "I want to be your partner. Your mate. Your wife." His smile slowly grows as tears collect in both of their eyes.

"I have loved you since I first saw you," Neteyam starts again. "I know when we first met we were both children," he laughs. She smiles alongside him. She recognizes the nervousness within him. His heart racing. His ears held back. His wet hair pressed against his forehead. His breathing heavy. His hands sweaty. His freckles pulsating bright throughout his face. She thinks it's cute. She will always hold a safe space for him in her heart. "But I think I knew. I have always cared so deeply for you, Augustine," he continues. The way her name falls from his lips makes her heart skip a beat.

"I would never let anyone hurt you. I would never let anyone touch you. I would never let anything happen to you," he says sternly. His ears raise, his tail moves more frivolous. She tilts her head in concern as her brows furrow. "Nete?" she asks. "What's wrong?" He takes a breath as he shakes his head. Tears falling from his waterline due to the movement. "I just - I can’t lose you. I've never been able to," he starts with wobbling lips. He pulls his gaze away and out into the blackness of the ocean.

"When you left, I knew you were safe. You were safe with Norm," he nods as though he is trying to convince himself again. "I agreed with my father. If we stayed with the people, Quaritch would find them. He would find you." He shakes his head as he tries to hold his breath. "I would never let that happen." She watches as the joy drains from his sweet face. “I know you wouldn’t,” she soothes. “Because now I am here with you.”

Augustine's other hand instinctually lands against his cheek. Her thumb brushes against one of his tears. "You will never lose me, Ma'Nete," she coos. "I'm stuck to you like glue." She starts to laugh, which makes him chuckle and shake out the remainder of his tears. "Nga yawne lu oer, Augustine," Neteyam whispers as he turns into her palm, kissing it ever so gently. "Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam," she murmurs. Her heart so full and brazen with love for him, her one and only.

His kisses travel to her inner wrist, leaving her giggling. As his eyes watch in undeniable love, he continues to kiss up her arm causing her to wriggle about. His mouth leads closer to her shoulder. He adjusts himself where he leans into his hands at the sides of her thighs. His lips flutter from her shoulder, to her collar bone, and to her neck. The ticklish sensation now turning into something else. She gasps as she feels his sweet lips against her skin. Her hand comes to support the back of his head, keeping his lips upon her.

Neteyam looks up to her with excitement. The same look also asks for her permission to proceed. Augustine nods with a nervous smile. He continues to kiss her neck, which causes gasps and giggles to fall from her lips. She scrunches her body up beside him as he gradually leans his over her. Her head softly lands against the cool surface of the stone below her. She raises her hand to his face once more. He smiles as he places another peck to her palm and leans closer to place a soft kiss upon her lips.

She falls deep within this embrace, forgetting absolutely everything and solely living in this moment with him. No one else exists. Its just Neteyam and Augustine - forever. He presses his tongue lightly against her mouth. Instinctually, she parts her lips to allow their tongues to flow to each other. She hooks her arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer until his body is actually resting atop of hers. Her thighs hold his in place as he lays between her legs. His hands float between the sides of her shoulders down to the sides of her hips.

Breaking the kiss, Neteyam looks down to watch as his hand slowly creeps up her top. Augustine places a tender kiss against his forehead. His fingers slowly follow the curves of her body. She gasps lightly as his finger tips brush against her nipple. His face immediately shoots up to hers in concern. She smiles to reassure him. His palm presses against her nipple. They firm up against his touch. He looks up to her again as he begins to kiss her sternum. Her entire skin feels like pillars of electricity. Each kiss is a spark that lights up the rest of her body. He watches in pleasure as her freckles light up with his touch.

Neteyam's body tenses in excitement as he sees the woman he loves welcoming his advances. Following his gut, he slides his tongue across the soft muscle of her breast. He follows it until it touches the sensitive skin of her nipple. He takes her nipple in his mouth as she lets out a weak moan. Her hand rests at the base of his skull. He sucks harder, feeling her twist beneath him. He wants to hear her. He wants to make her feel everything. Every single ounce of pleasure.

He quickly decides to venture forward by trailing his tongue down her gorgeous stomach. Her freckles continue to brighten as he presses the wet, strong muscle against her most sensitive spots. Her eyes close as she firmly presses her head against the rock. Her body feels like its screaming. It's screaming for something unfamiliar. Something she's never done before. Something she's never experienced. It's desperation pulls her away from the fear roaming in the back of her mind. She lightly guides him lower and lower until he plays with the thread of her undergarment.

Neteyam peers up once more, one more check for permission. She raises her head as he stops his movements. Something her body most definitely did not want to happen. Augustine licks her lips as she watches his fangs playfully bite into her inner thigh. She pulls her legs together, letting out a loud giggle. He laughs alongside her as he circles his thumbs against her outer thighs. "Is this okay?" he asks softly as he kisses the other side of her inner thigh. "Yes," she responds with a sweet smile.

He slowly tucks his fingers underneath her loin cloth. She moves her hips side to side to help him pull it down her waist, her thighs, and string it between her ankles. He looks down at her, in all her glory, with a watering mouth. He has dreamt of his moment. Always telling himself that it would never happen. Something as beautiful as her would never be his. But, finally, she was. She always was - his. As he was hers. Not a single moment of concern or worry fills her chest as she watches him rake over her naked body. She feels comfort, joy. She feels sexy underneath him. She feels powerful.

Neteyam slowly lowers himself between her legs. His eyes completely on her, not moving an inch. His tail swinging quite a bit behind him. His nerves starting to get the best of him as he places his lightly perspiring palms against her inner thighs. His tongue lightly rests upon his bottom lip, as if it could not wait any longer. She opens her legs to invite him in. Her hand gently finds its way back to his braids. She intertwines her fingers as her thumb gently rubs circles on the side of his head.

Heavy breaths fall from both their lips as they wait in absolute anticipation. His eyes fall upon her warmth, so inviting. His fingers lightly trail up her inner thigh. His fingertips lightly touch her clit, which is enough to make her jump. He feels the wetness of her slick. Immediately, all of his blood travels south. What was since then a bulge is now a perfectly firmed appendage pressing against her leg. She knows nothing of it, but knows she wants all of it. Now.

Neteyam lightly rubs his fingertips against her clit. Augustine wiggles underneath him again as a sweet moans fall from her lips. Her eyelashes fluttering as her thighs dig against his shoulders. He looks up to watch her in undeniable pleasure. He thought it was impossible, but she is even more beautiful from this perspective. He wishes to be the only person to see her like this. To help her feel like this. He cannot believe that she chose him. That his greatest dream has now become a reality. She continues to let out heavy sighs as her fingers begin to grip against his scalp. She arches her back and raises her hips.

"Eywa ngahu," Ronal mutters as she looks down upon the pair.

Augustine immediately yelps as she attempts to roll to her side to cover herself. Neteyam yells, "Shit!" He quickly pulls up his love's undergarments and covers her as he turns back to the terrifying face of the Tsahìk. "Ronal," he whispers as he slowly stands. Augustine stands behind him, still covering herself. She feels completely exposed and is quite embarrassed with herself. He holds a firm hand at her thigh, pushing her further behind him. "Ngaytxoa, Tsahìk," he mutters as he quickly gestures a greeting and bows before her.

Ronal's eyes continue to travel between Neteyam and Augustine. She attempts to process exactly what she saw and how to move forward as a mother, and most importantly as Tsahìk. She watches as Augustine cowers behind Neteyam. Her hair wet and tussled over her shoulders. She looks innocent, is innocent. Her father - her alien father asked for uturu from the Metkayina clan. His father advocated for her, advocated for her Na'vi lineage. He briefly shared about her mother and ties to the Tayrangi and Omatikaya clans.

With a stern face, Ronal quickly decides on her course of action. She swiftly grabs Neteyam's ear between her finger and thumb. She pulls him towards her skimwing on the other side of Ranteng Utralti. He hisses in pain as he struggles to follow her. Augustine rushes behind them. "Tsahìk, where are you taking him?" she asks with a worried tone. "Where am I taking you both," Ronal corrects. "Do you have ilu?" she asks, rather harshly. Her eyes are stern. Her lip is pulled in a mixture of disgust and disappointment. "Yes, Tsahìk," she answers. "Meet us on the other side," she points where and immediately gestures to shoo her away.

Augustine clucks her tongue to call for Aazll. Aazll lets out a concerning whine as she makes the bond. "Sh, sh Aazll. It will be okay," she coos as she rubs the side of her neck. With a single thought, she dives into the water to meet Ronal and Neteyam. She swims up and overhears their conversation. "Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, I do not need to hear this. You will tell the people what you have done," Ronal says as she aggressively pulls away from his ear. He turns towards her in shock. His eyes widen in worry. "Get on," Ronal yells as she hops onto her skimwing. He lets out a shaky breath and steps on behind her. "Girl, you follow," she instructs as she dives into the water.

Augustine watches as Neteyam disappears underneath the blackened waves. She lets out a deep breath as her eyes fall upon the glowing pink and purple colors floating in the beautiful waters below her. Tonight was incredible. Tonight she loved. She knew, in her heart, that she was loved. She wish she knew what will happen next. With another deep breath released from her lips, she dives into the ocean to follow Ronal and Neteyam back to Awa'atlu.

iknimaya: omatikaya rites

nga yawne lu oer: i love you; you are beloved to me

oel ngati kameie: i see you

eywa ngahu: (may) eywa (be) with you

ngaytxoa: sorry; my apologies

uturu: na'vi tradition to provide safety to any refugee

ranteng utralti: metkayina spirit tree

As soon as Neteyam landed his feet onto the netted floor of the village, Ronal had her fingers pinching his ear again. He winces, but does not let a sound escape his mouth. She turns back to the water to ensure that Augustine was following. She is. She sulks with nervous hands before her as she follows closely behind the two. She only looks up once she begins to see the glowing embers of the fire before them. Ronal is leading them to the people's wutso.

Ronal marches Neteyam to the middle of the people, to the Olo'eyktan. Augustine's worried eyes quickly meet Kiri's. She stands at the sight of her brother being dragged by the Tsahìk. Her movement cues the remainder of the Sully family toward the danger ahead. Neytiri and Jake immediately rush to the front of the fire to meet their eldest. Kiri holds Tuk, as Lo'ak holds Spider back.

Tsireya holds her hands to her face as she watches the horror unfold before her. Her eyes return to Augustine's gaze. She mouths, "What happened?" Augustine is unsure of what to say and just shakes her head until her eyes fall onto the ground. She notes another area of movement to her right. She looks up to note Pipxì and other Metkayina standing around her. Pipxì walks to the front as well once recognizing her promised mate.

"Olo'eyktan, I found Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan attempting to muntxa si this girl," Ronal announces before the Metkayina people. Neteyam and Augustine stand side by side in the middle of a circle at the feet of the Metkayinan leader. She keeps her eyes on the fire before her, desperate to leave this reality. Numerous gasps can be heard throughout the people. The area from which Pipxì was sitting is filled with Na'vi yelling war cries. Several of the people stand and huddle around the group.

"The warrior is promised to Pipxì Te Haie Hawota'ite," she says as she turns towards the crowd. Her eyes finally fall upon Neteyam's. "This is wrong," she says strongly in his face. Neytiri steps forward, but Jake quickly places a hand before her. Both of their faces are filled with worry. Tonowari stares down onto Neteyam and Augustine. His face displaying disapproval and an undeniable frown. "What say you Neteyam?" he asks as he stands from his sit.

Neteyam takes a step forward. He breathes in sharply through his nostrils as his ears fall flat. "I choose Augustine," he says loudly. "I make no apologies for that." The people begin to yell behind them. It is loud enough that Augustine winces at the sudden noise. Tonowari yells to hush his people. "You do not have a choice, Son of Toruk Makto," he says calmly. "You are promised by Tsahìk - by Eywa." Neteyam grunts as he pulls his eyes from the Olo'eyktan. Neytiri hisses as she attempts to discipline her son for his disrespect.

"I am taronyu," Neteyam states with his eyes still to the ground. His chest begins to raise as his eye line trails back to Tonowari. "I choose my own mate. It is my rite." Tonowari steps towards him, towering over him. Augustine watches in fear. "You do not talk to Olo'eyktan like that, boy," Ao'nung yells from the crowd. "Your promise is by the will of Eywa!" Neteyam’s strong face pulls back up to the leader. "No, my promise is by the will of Ronal," he mutters. Augustine turns towards Tonowari in absolute worry. What is Neteyam doing? How could he be so disrespectful to the Olo'eyktan?

Ronal quickly moves to stand beside her husband. "I am Tsahìk," she states viciously. "You are to marry a great warrior's daughter. Your child is to lead us into victory against the Sky People. That is the will of Eywa!" She stands before Neteyam, growling as he stands proudly still and firm before them. "Augustine is a great warrior's daughter!" Kiri yells as she pushes out from the crowd. "Kiri!" Neytiri snaps as she attempts to hold her back from entering the circle. "Tsahìk, she is the daughter of Ewtoä," she says as she tirelessly breathes before Ronal.

"Yes, Ewtoä was a great warrior of the Tayrangi," Jake continues as he turns to speak to all of the Metkayina. "Her mother helped us to win the first war against the Sky People." Neytiri adds, "Beside Toruk Makto, Ewtoä was what held all the clans together. She connected the hunters of the sky with those of the ground." She turns back to speak directly to Ronal. "It makes sense that her daughter should carry the next Toruk Makto for generations to come." Ronal hisses as her lip pulls to the side.

"Pipxì is the great granddaughter of the greatest Metkayina hunter, Sayay Te Zìkxmaw Lätxa'itan," a booming voice comes from the right side of the crowd. An older man approaches the circle with anger clear upon his face. "She holds the blood of a true leader." Augustine turns to look at him with pain her eyes. "This girl has done nothing but disrespect our people and Eywa herself," he says with disgust as he looks into her eyes. Augustine immediately turns around with tears welling. She returns her eyes to the fire before her. She never should have let her gaze leave its glowing embers.

"Pipxì," Tonowari calls out. "What are your thoughts?" Pipxì stands before the Olo'eyktan with a disapproving expression. Neteyam winces at the sight of her, remembering what she had harshly said to him this morning. "By the will of Eywa, I am promised to Neteyam," she states, devoid of feeling. She turns to look at Augustine, who's eyes are anywhere but her way. Her eyes travel to Neteyam's. Anger begins to build within her chest. He decided to do this behind her back. He betrayed her, whether she wanted to move forward with the mating rite or not. "If she is the daughter of a great warrior, then I must see this for myself," Pipxì answers with a monotone. "I challenge Augustine te Uniltìrantokxolo’ Ewtoä'ite to the First Blood rite."

Augustine's eyes slowly fall upon Pipxì's in horror. Pipxì's eyes show absolutely no remorse as she stares at the Olo'eyktan. Augustine has only heard of the First Blood rite in stories her father told her as a child. A ritualistic battle where one opponent must draw the blood of the other first. She looks up to seek guidance from her Sully family. She is met with horrified looks. Tuk continues to reach out towards her, almost to comfort her. Kiri holds her hand down in an attempt to protect her from getting involved.

"To determine what outcome?" Tonowari asks blatantly. Pipxì then, and only then, speaks directly towards Augustine. With an angered look, she spits out, "To determine who has the blood of the greatest warrior." Neteyam steps out of line without hesitation. "No, Pipxì," he yells. Jake quickly wraps his arms around his eldest son. He grunts as he struggles to hold on. "Do not do this. You don't even want this!" Neteyam pleads from his restraints. "It is done," she mutters as she looks down at him and back up to her leader.

Neteyam loudly grunts and aggressively rips himself from his father's arms. "I will fight," he yells towards Tonowari. "I will fight for Augustine." Augustine turns towards him in shock. She did not need him to fight for her, yet he chooses to make her sound weak in front of the people. Although Neteyam knows this, he would never wish any harm her way for his crimes. He promised to keep her safe. "I did this, Olo'eyktan. I broke the promise," he begs. "Not her." Tonowari stares down at the pleading boy. "You do not have a choice, Son of Toruk Makto," he states with regret. He watches as Neteyam falls to his knees and covers his face with his hands.

"The First Blood Rite will be held at first light. Rest well," Tonowari says as he walks from the crowd. The Metkayina people cheer as Pipxì walks back towards her friends and family. Augustine looks deep into the fire. The overwhelming feelings coursing through her veins, encouraging her to just jump in. It would all be over so quickly. She wouldn't have to do this -

"Augustine," Jake says, pulling her from her thoughts. He watches her in concern as she slowly pulls her gaze towards him. Her body moves in slow motion as the shock floods her muscles. "We need to go back to the pod. Can Kiri and Lo'ak take you?" With what felt like forever, Augustine slowly nods. She turns back to look for Neteyam's eyes. Neytiri had her hands on his shoulders as she disciplined him. Spider stands beside her with furious fists clenched. Augustine was not given a chance to say goodbye.

Kiri and Lo'ak rush to hook their arms with Augustine's. "It's going to be okay, Gusty," Kiri continues to repeat as she guides her back towards the Sully pod. Augustine is starting to think that those words are more comforting to Kiri at this moment. As they reach the home, Lo'ak stands worried in a corner. His eyes watching the moving water below the netting. Tsireya paces behind him with her hand to her forehead. Kiri sits in front of Augustine with absolute worry on her face.

"Can you fight?" Kiri asks as she reaches for Augustine's hand. "Yes, I continued my practices but I haven't fought against another since I left High Camp," she says as she keeps her eyes on their hands. "First blood is not to the death," Kiri adds with a concerned expression. She attempts to gain Augustine's gaze. Augustine looks up to Kiri with tears falling down her cheeks. "I don't care about that," she shares as she pulls her eyes away once more. "I don't want to hurt anyone." Kiri's lips tremble as her body empathetically watches her closest friend in so much pain.

Kiri takes a quick breath to regulate herself and focus upon her friend. "Gusty," she says as she reaches for Augustine's chin and pushes it up. "You need to. You need to win. You need to win so you can be with Neteyam." Augustine bites her lip as she shakes her head. "Why?" she cries. Lo'ak rushes to her side, placing a comforting hand to her shoulder. "The outcome is forever," he shares. "If you do not win, Neteyam will always be promised to Pipxì. You won't be able to break that promise, Gus." He then grabs hold of her shoulders to turn her towards him. "Is not hurting Pipxì more important than being with the person you love?" he asks with all sincerity.

Augustine's eyes flick towards Lo'ak. "I won't let her win," she says through grinding teeth. She feels a darkness bubble within her as she mentally prepares for the battle ahead. "Reya, do you know anything about Pips' fighting style?" he asks, turning back to his love. Tsireya rushes over and sits before them. She is a clear ball of stress and worry. "She is a great hunter, an even better warrior. She fights with grace and power," she answers with her brows pushed together. She continues to shake her head, unsure of how the girl before her will win against one of Metkayina’s strongest warriors Lo'ak yells, "Shit" under his breath. He then guides Augustine to stand before him. "We need to practice."

Suddenly, a force rushes through the front entrance. "Augustine!" Neteyam says as he runs in with eyes looking every where. "Neteyam," she whimpers with her arms open as she collapses into his chest with tears in her eyes. "I am so sorry, Ma’Augustine," he starts as he pulls away and kisses her forehead and cheeks. "I'm supposed to keep you safe and now, I'm putting you in danger?" Augustine shakes her head. "You didn't do anything, Ma'Nete," she whispers. "I'll do what I must."

Lo'ak stands beside the two lovebirds with a serious look to his face. "We need to practice, bro," he states as he turns towards his brother. "Yes," Neteyam nods. He steps back and looks at Augustine. She is thin, devoid of much muscle as she spent the majority of the past four years with her nose stuck in a book as opposed to scaling walls and trees. "Are you ready, my love?" he asks. "Yes, Ma'Nete."

wutso: dinner, served meal

muntxa si: mate with, marry

taronyu: hunter

note: oh my gerd. what is going to happen y'all. are they finally going to be able to get together? or is it gonna end up like romeo and juliet? there's probably going to be several parts to come so i hope you will all join me along for the ride. very proud of this post and hope y'all enjoyed.

taglist: @lazyfnafvideogamesparty, @em-asian, @daaiissyyyy, @maraudersrry, @buttercake2234, @sanrioo0, @maggiezx3, @andromets, @shylittlefroggy2, @just-soft-things1, @wierdointhecornerofaroom, @arminsgfloll, @aespie, @fanboyluvr, @btslovergirl12

comment if you'd like to join the taglist 💙 reblogs help so so much✨

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

#avatar wow fanfic #avatar wow #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam x #neteyam pairing #neteyam x oc #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak fic #kiri sully #neteyam angst #metkayina #omatikaya #na’vi #na’vi smut #na'vi smut #avatar neteyam #Neteyam #sully family #Jake sully #tuk sully #neytiri #tsireya

[brandstifter-sys]

The Dutchman

For @dukexietyweek Day 4: Pirates                (Ao3)(login required)

Word Count: 1540

Rating: T

Characters: Remus, Virgil

Warnings: Character Death, ghosts, murder mention, hypothermia, ftm Remus

A disgraced duke sets sail with pirates to find his lover’s watery grave, in search of the Flying Dutchman and her captain so he can find Virgil, no matter what the cost.

---

Remus stared out at the sea, letting the salty wind blow through his hair. He shivered and rubbed his hands to keep them warm and wondered if it would snow. He doubted it, it was so calm on the water, unlike in his mind. 

He could still see those eyes staring up at him from the line of prisoners. He could see the hopelessness burning behind them from worlds away. He could still recall the day that they took his Virgil away from him. 

"Your Grace," someone muttered and stood next to him. He didn't have to look to know that the ship's navigator was going to interrupt his brooding.

"You know I left that title behind," he sighed, "Is something wrong?" 

"The captain and the crew are getting suspicious." 

"Then stop calling me 'Your Grace' around these pirates. I'm fighting dirty on raids and talking like them, so it's not on me."

"I am not referring to that." 

"My tits are hidden perfectly and I haven't bled in years."

"They suspect that you're looking to find the supernatural." 

"You don't believe it's real. As far as you're concerned, I'm a lunatic trying to find a sunken ship that we lost three years ago. As far as everyone else, I'm a servant boy following a crooked cartographer looking to make a quick buck to fund his research." 

"What was on that ship?" 

"A treasure, a diamond in the rough."

"It was a prison ship." 

"My treasure could breathe," Remus said and glanced at the sky. That wall of dark clouds came out of nowhere and it was kissing the waves. 

"How odd." 

"Better tell the captain and turn this ship toward the nearest port," Remus said as the wind picked up. The navigator ran to do his duties. 

Remus tied his hair back and cracked his neck. This time, he would have answers. 

He would know exactly what happened to Virgil when that ship sank. He would fight Davy Jones himself if he had to. He would know Virgil's fate for daring to love the wily Duchess. 

His eyes went wide when a ship floated through the clouds. It was eerie with tattered black sails and a wispy glow around it. He could hear the strange song the ghost crew was singing. 

This was his chance. 

Remus dove into the icy sea before anyone could stop him. This crew didn't have to die for him! He just needed to reach Davy Jones and fight him for information. 

He swam to the ghost ship, fighting back the rising waves and the bitter storm. His mind was set on reminding him of Virgil, his deep sultry voice, his gentle smile, his wit, everything Remus wanted to have and hold, in sickness and in health, not parting even for death. 

He could still feel those long fingers tracing his curves. He could hear the crash of skin and the soft growls coming from his partner. He could still smell the musky sweat dripping down that heaving chest. He could still taste those lips pressed against his own. The pure ecstasy flooding his veins was just as potent as the night Virgil gave into him. Remus couldn't forget the night they took him away. He needed to get answers.

He had no idea how long he had been swimming. He was battered by the storm. His limbs felt like lead. But he refused to give up. He needed to know what happened to Virgil.

He was freezing. His head was spinning. Breathing was a challenge. This was the end wasn't it? Remus was ready to sink to the abyss. He could rest by his lover's watery grave.

"Captain!" 

"Pull him on!" 

Remus whined pitifully when he was pulled into a lifeboat. He didn't want to be back on the ship to get yelled at. 

He blinked and saw two faces he didn't recognize. He was disoriented and cold. He couldn't feel his heartbeat. Remus just closed his eyes again. 

And then he was thrown in the deck with no ceremony. His hands hit the wood and he swore, no longer able to shiver.

What did he do to deserve this? All the failures in his life bombarded him. He was never demure enough for his parents. He fell in love with a commoner. He killed them both and got exiled instead of executed. And he dove into the ocean in the winter, chasing a hallucination. Was he just hallucinating?

Through his tears he saw a pair of black boots in front of him. They didn't belong to anyone on the crew. Did he make it? 

"You have to be an idiot to do that. Or did you just want to die?" a cold but familiar voice said. 

"Am I dead?" he grumbled.

"What do you think?"

"Depends. What ship am I on?" 

"The Flying Dutchman." 

"I'm on the ghost ship," Remus laughed bitterly, "And that means you're dead." 

He looked up at the man in front of him. He was fit and firm, dressed in all black and his skin was colorless. But that face, those eyes—Remus wished he wasn't seeing them.  

"We all are. Except you, for now." 

"If I die, can I stay here?" 

"Why would you want to do that?" 

"Because I spent too long trying to find you, Virgil." 

Virgil knelt down and tilted his chin up with those cold fingers. He studied that face and smiled sadly. 

"You should've moved on, you have so much to live for. A duchess like you is more important than a lowly merchant."

"I'm not a duchess. I'm Remus," Remus huffed and sat on his haunches, "And you're not a merchant. You're a ghost pirate." 

"I always preferred men anyway." 

"Are you going to try to save my life and get me back on the ship you're chasing?" Remus pouted, wobbling as his blood pressure dropped. He wasn't sure if he wanted to strip because of his hypothermia or because Virgil was there and he looked good.

"You don't want me to, do you?" Virgil asked. 

"I want to be with you. It's been years and I don't want anyone else. You're the only one who ever cared about the real me."

"You're lucky there's an open position on the ship," Virgil said and picked him up, cradling him to his chest. 

"Position?" Remus mumbled and closed his eyes. 

"Yeah, the captain's personal bed mate," Virgil said softly and made his way to his quarters, ignoring the crew rushing around the ship, preparing for their raid.

"I'm cold." 

"Just relax," Virgil said and brought him into a furnished room with a desk and a large bed. 

"Virgil?" 

"If you want to stay, you need to offer me your service to clean your soul," he sighed and set Remus on the bed, "It's part of the Davy Jones thing."

"Take it," Remus muttered as breathing became harder, "it's dirty as fuck!" 

Vigil chuckled softly and tenderly grabbed Remus' hand, making sure to feel his fading pulse. 

"I missed you, Cuddlefish," he said right before Remus stopped breathing. He let go and stepped back, anticipating the inevitable. 

Remus sat up, slipping away from his body. It took all of two seconds for him to pounce and tackle Virgil to the floor. 

Virgil grunted on impact and let Remus cover his face in smooches and bites. He was clinging to the captain with his arms and legs, unwilling to let go. 

"Scare Bear!" Remus giggled between each loving assault. He didn't stop, even when Virgil got to his feet, holding Remus up by the thighs. 

"We can do whatever you want after the raid. And after we get rid of the body." 

"Raid a different ship and catapult my body over to that one. The crew could use the reward money!" Remus said and leaned back. 

"Reward money?" 

"Yeah, there's been a bounty out for me since I killed the king and queen. Pissy wants to see me hang for that but he let me escape before he found out." 

"You killed your parents?" 

"They sent you to your death. It was the last straw. You have no idea how far I will go for the people and things I love!" 

"You jumped into freezing water and swam to the Dutchman to find me. I have a pretty good idea of how far you'll go," Virgil jeered and kissed his forehead. 

"My lips are lower than that—and if you want to go even lower—" 

"After the raid. The Kraken is hunting and we have to ferry the souls to the afterlife. Your idea is good but out of the question." 

"How is that a raid? You're not looting anything!" 

"I'm taking people against their will. They always put up a fight." 

"Do I get to fight?" Remus gasped, completely forgetting his rejected plan, "Do I get to go ape shit and show off my skills that will make you crave me carnally?" 

"Yeah, and then I'm all yours," Virgil hummed and cupped his cheek, "We have so much catching up to do." 

Remus squeaked when Virgil leaned in and kissed him. Remus could have melted right there. He had his Scare Bear for an eternity and could love him without restraint!

#dukexiety #remus sanders #ftm!remus #virgil sanders #sanders sides #dukexietyweek2023 #day 4 #character death tw #death tw #murder mention tw

[femmeanonymelives]

Electric Touch (feat. (feat. Francisco Morales) (Val's Version)

Frankie Morales x Valerie "Songbird" Harlow (Singer Songwriter!OC) (platonic)

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Valerie "Songbird" Harlow (Singer Songwriter!OC) (mentioned in this chapter)

Series Masterlist Part 1

Ari's Note: Finally, I finished this chapter. I took some liberties with the timeline. (In my head, the movie takes place in 2017 and this story takes place in 2019 or 2020ish.) Frankie in my head is in his late thirties, whereas Val is 31 in this story.

Deep breaths, in and out. 

In and out.

“What the fuck,” I think in my head as I pace inside the home studio inside my house back in Florida, a day after the show where I ran into Santiago. My mind is racing over the kiss that he gave me the night prior. I owned the house before I started dating Santiago. A small house near a beach. When we were dating, we balanced staying with each other at both of our homes. I come from an old-fashioned family who never believed in moving in together with someone before an engagement.

Frankie comes into my home, holding two cups of coffee, one for him and one for me. His hunter-green jacket is slightly stained due to wear. His slightly brownish-gray hair is messily curled. His “Standard Heating Oil” hat always seemed attached to his head. We have known each other since childhood. He is a few years older than me; he used to babysit me when he was 10, and I was 6. We were more like siblings than friends. His child refers to me as “auntie” more than anything else.

“Kid and momma are spending the day doing a mommy playdate. I am all yours. You okay?”

“I am fine… you are late, by the way.” I sip the lukewarm, bitter coffee slowly to fully enjoy it. 

“Being late for a demo session for a song that I am not even singing on.” Frankie takes a look at the home studio setup. A setup that I made when trying to get someone- anyone to recognize what I have is real. A random patterned rug that I found on clearance at West Elm. Faux-leather stools that were found at a yard sale when babysitting Frankie’s kid years prior. The only new thing is the technology given to me by the label. 

“The band recorded the instrumentals back in Seattle. The label wanted to see how I would sound doing an actual love song, which is this song. I told them this song is perfect if the male vocalist is a tenor and as a duet. That is why I sent you that text with the lyrics a few days ago. This session to record the vocals and send it to the producer and the label.”

“When you told me about this, I thought you were crazy for wanting me to sing again.”

“Said the man who loved choir in high school.” He rolls his eyes. He takes off his faded trucker hat and tries to straighten his hair. His darkish gray curls are messy like always.

“That was the choir in high school, Val.” He looks at me with concern, fully knowing what happened the night prior backstage. “What happened with you and Santiago last night?”

“It was nothing,” I look over at him as I start prepping the studio for two people recording there. He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him.

“Val, he left mid-song. I tried to find him after your set for over an hour. I had to find him nursing a beer outside the venue. I know your guys’ breakup was hard on you, but it hit him the hardest.”

“Frankie, I love you like a brother. Can we not talk about this now? I don’t want to waste your time by talking about this instead of doing the recording.” I start vocal warmups before handing him his headphones, and we go into the booth together. We both are standing in front of a microphone for each of us. I place my laptop on a nearby table with the instrumental track and pull up the recording software. He holds the notebook with the lyrics in his hand. “I will lead you in when your part comes in. Recording in 3…2…1.”

The soft country rock instrumental leads me in as I start singing. Frankie smirks the songs as he recognizes the song beat as a signature of my musical composition style. 

“Just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay

Just an hour 'til your car's in the driveway

Just the first time ever hangin' out with you tonight

I've got my money on things going badly

Got a history of stories ending sadly

Still hoping that the fire won't burn me

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm”

Frankie’s soft tenor voice appears as I gesture him into the song. His voice is soft, yet rough. I could have been a while since he sang aloud, but he still sounded good.

“I've been left in the rain lost and pining

I'm tryin' hard not to look like I'm trying

'Cause every time I tried hard for love, it fell apart (whoa)

I've gotten used to no one callin' my phone

I've grown accustomed to sleeping alone

Still, I know that all it takes is to get it right

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch

I was thinking just one time (just one time)

Maybe the stars align (just one time)

And maybe I call you mine

And you won't need space

Or string me along while you decide

And just one time (just one time)

Maybe the moment's right (the moment's right)

It's 8:05 and I see two headlights

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch (oh)

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm”

Out of breath, I pushed the end of the recording. “Please tell me it hasn’t been a while since you sang aloud.” I take a long sip of water from my water bottle nearby.

“Three years.”

“Karaoke with Ben was the last time you sang,” I asked as I gave him a questioning look.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Santiago kissed you?” I gave him the look of “are we really talking about this right now again?” 

“How did you know?” Frankie gave me a concerning look since he knows the truth.

“Based on the details in the song, this song was about your first date because you told me how much you cared for him. Plus Santiago told me that he kissed after your set after you two talked after I picked him up from the bar…. Val, what the hell happened?”

“He and I kissed… He told me about the money… his share of the money.”

“And?”

“And that his share was for me…”

“He finally told you then…”

“Frankie, don’t dabble in his bullshit…” I am getting fed up with the same fucking lie that his share was for me.

“I am not… Val, he wanted that money for you….” He sighs deeply as he takes a long sip of coffee. “I know it was shitty of me for not telling you, but I promised you I would have done the same thing.”

“I understand the guilt around Tom’s death but why did he have to do it like that?”

“He was going to buy you a ring so he could propose to you…”

“What?”

“He wanted to propose and do a big old fancy engagement for you. I am sorry that I didn’t tell you.” Frankie is concerned about what is next for me and Santiago.

I sigh as I step out of the makeshift studio so Frankie can record his audio. “I need to record your vocals, Frankie... I will start the music where your part comes in.” As the music plays, my phone buzzes. I pick it up. It is a text from Santiago.

Santiago: We need to talk. Alone.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x oc #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier boys #triple frontier fanfic #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac characters #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales fanfiction #Spotify

[casspurrjoybell-19]

CLAIMED - Chapter 30

*Warning: Adult Content*     

"Sedation syringe?"

"Back pocket."

"Protection vest?"

"Under my shirt."

"Knife?"

"Goddess, Benji. For the fifth time, he has everything," Beta Jaxson Ortiz finally shouted, fed up with the Medic's constant worrying as he walked back and forth at a worrying pace.

Chaotic strings of anxiety thrummed through Corey and Jaxson’s Mate Mind Link as the Head Warrior’s Mate continued to wear down a divot into the hallway floorboards. 

Corey barely even recognized where his legs were carrying him until he suddenly stood right in front of Jaxson, cupping those soft, freckled cheeks in calloused palms.

"Breathe, Gift," Corey asked, exaggerating his own breaths gave Jaxson a reference to pull from and sooner than later, those beautiful, green eyes flickered up to him and held. 

The emerald depths were watery with fear but Corey could tell by the slightest tremor in Jaxson’s jaw that he was holding tears back as best he could.

‘My mate was so strong.’

"I'm...I'm sorry," Jaxson breathed, stepping closer to bury the front of his body against Corey’ chest. 

The connection wasn't enough, the thick vest situated underneath the Warrior’s shirt dulling the flickers of electricity that he so craved but it would have to do for now. 

There was work to do. 

"You shouldn't be the one consoling me. You have enough burdens on your shoulders right now," Jaxson continued, sucking in a deep breath before tilting his head up to rest his chin on Corey’s pec.

The strained yet bright smile that the Warrior was bequeathed with sent his breathing straight into manual mode and he instantly indulged himself in the urge to scent Jaxson, to cover his Omega in his essence, to give him something to cling to as he awaited for Corey’s safe return.

"You are never a burden, Jax,"  Corey assured gently, quick to dispel the absurd idea of his existence causing any additional difficulty to his life. "Our hardships are not a competition. No matter how big or small your affliction may be, I will always have time for you."

The Warrior could feel the chewed-up nubs of his lover’s nails as they dug deep into his sides, a silent plea for him to stay. 

It took every ounce of willpower to deny him, to peel himself away and press soft kisses to every single one of those fingertips before placing the softest of them all onto his own lips.

It was more than likely that this retrieval was not going to go smoothly and they all knew it. 

They'd been debriefed on every single past attempt to get through to Corey’s father and judging by the photos of the wounds that multiple of their Warriors had sustained, potentiated by accounts of the red hue increasingly overtaking his blown irises, they had no idea if Raymon Cahill would recognize anyone at this point.

Alpha Rayson Cahill's psyche was, understandably, lost to the depth of his grief for his Mate, Daniel Cahill but his subsequent descent into madness did not give them the most confident stance on a positive long-term prognosis.

The only thing they had left was hope. 

Hope that Raymon could somehow find the strength to go on, to find meaning in a world that had so brutally ripped away the other half of his soul.

Jaxson's barely-audible whimper and the way he instinctively followed after Corey’s lips as he pulled their mouths apart almost made the Warrior’s knees buckle and it was then that he knew that it was time. 

If he stayed even a moment longer, he would never find it in him to leave his lover.

"It's time for me to go now," Corey whispered, placing a final kiss on Jaxson’s forehead.

Jaxson nodded with understanding but Corey still had to pry his Mate’s fingers open to make him release.

"O-Okay..." Jaxson gulped, staring at a spot on the floor in front of him. "I know he's your dad but... Please protect yourself. Don't be afraid to use the sedative, or.. or even the knife if you really have to."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I am not afraid." Corey assured his Mate once more, brushing a curl from in front of his eye. 

Corey didn't miss the shimmer that danced across Jaxson’s sclera as he did so, water filling his lover’s bottom lash line but not yet overflowing.

"I love you," the Beta whispered, lifting his chin to meet Corey’s eyes. 

The Head Warrior’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his lover’s effortless beauty despite his stress and he couldn't resist placing another kiss on the corner of his left eye, tasting salt.

"As I love you."

Corey hesitated for a moment, steeling his resolve before he turned to Doctor Benji.

"Alright. Let's do this."

The half-Fae nodded, giving Warrior Tank a look that made the large man move into position to the right of Raymon and Daniel Cahill’s bedroom door. 

Corey followed suit, each footfall heavier than the next as he stepped into place.

'Dashiell. You ready?' Corey asked and his wolf instantly jumped to attention in the back of his consciousness.

'Absolutely. I'm here,' came Dashiell’s instant reply. 

Corey’s Dad and Papa were just as much his Wolf’s fathers as they were his and they were both prepared to fight for them, together.

"Mind link us if things get too violent and I will send in reinforcements," Tank instructed as he clapped Corey on the shoulder and the Head Warrior swiveled his neck to peer in his direction. "You are an exceptionally strong Alpha but never forget that you have help if it is wanted or needed."

Corey nodded in recognition. 

"I appreciate it. Thank you."

"No need to thank me, man. You are an amazing Leader, any Warrior would jump at the chance to assist you."

Corey wanted to smile at that but given his inherent lack of the ability to do so, he simply offered another nod.

"That means a lot," Corey replies, flexing his fists and stretching out his neck before speaking his next words. "I'm ready."

Benji counted down from three and at zero, the door swung open.

It felt as if he were traversing into a minefield filled with a thousand memories as Corey stepped through the threshold, each step echoing louder in his ears despite his attempts to keep them quiet. 

And then, the door clicked shut and the scrape of a lock fitting into the latch confirmed that he was now sealed inside.

The first thing that Corey noticed was the smell. 

The air stunk of dirt, blood and the worst of them all, death. 

It had been four days since his Dad's passing and there was no doubt that his body was beginning the stages of decomposition. 

The back of Corey’s eyes throbbed as he held back his emotions and his throat burned as he switched to mouth breathing.

He didn't know how long he would be able to keep up the facade that had already begun to crumble the moment that he walked through that door but he would have to try.

The room was dark, almost all light obscured through the heavy blackout curtains that shielded the world from the devastating sight that lay inside. 

Corey had to blink a few times for his pupils to adjust to the sudden darkness but his Wolf, Dash was quick to provide him with a bit of his night vision to assist in the transition. 

Finally, when he was able to take in much more of the scene, he instantly wished to be blinded once more.

A morbid mixture of dried and fresh blood splattered the walls and every piece of furniture aside from the bed was reduced to splintered pieces of wood, strewn about like a tornado had ransacked through the place.

But worst of all was what was on the bed.

Raymon Cahill was hunched, back arched and biceps tense as if ready to attack, as he shielded his Mate's dead body with his own from whatever imaginary threat he so clearly sensed. 

There was a tremble to his muscles, the kind that came with a prolonged expenditure of energy and his entire, nude body was covered with a thick sheen of sweat, only interrupted by intermittent splatters of red.

Luckily Raymon was faced away from the door and didn't seem to notice his son’s arrival until Corey finally spoke.

"Papa?"

Corey took half a step back, drawing in a sharp intake of breath as Raymon’s head snapped around at once, glaring daggers in his direction. 

That in itself wasn't particularly scary but what did terrify the young man was the fact that he could barely identify that face as his father's.

The sight of his canines extended down past his bottom lip, blood-smeared face and frothy drool made it obvious that this situation was extremely dire. 

But, most noticeable of them all, were his eyes.

One could barely see the powerful blue in them anymore, the brilliant color muddied by a bright, feral red with which he penetrated Corey straight through the chest. 

His father’s glare was fierce and unyielding, not a single hint of recognition evident behind them as he bared his teeth and released a roar so deafening that it vibrated the very floor beneath the Warrior’s feet.

And then, before he could blink, Corey was on his back.

"Umph..." 

The ground punched the air from his lungs but somehow he still managed to keep up his forearm as a barrier between his father's dripping canines and his face.

"Papa, it's me. Corey.  Your son," he yelled, finally gathering his bearings enough to knee his father in the stomach. 

The action gave Corey enough time to shimmy from under Raymon and finally take a defensive stance a few paces back.

His father recovered much quicker than anticipated, as if his perception of pain was dulled by whatever psychotic haze had taken over his senses. 

The red in his eyes darkened as he lifted his head, lids half-mast and then he was back on Corey.

But this time, the young man was prepared.

Corey was quick to duck his father’s swing as he attempted to latch on, instead wrapping his own arm above his and grabbing Raymon’s opposite hand to cross them across his chest before pulling him against him.

They were only a few inches away and a bit of foam flung into Corey’s face as Raymon snarled wildly at him but the young man stayed focused.

"Papa, stop. It's Corey. Your son. I'm not trying to take Dad away from you. I'm here to help you..."

Corey’s plea was cut short as a bright spot of pain exploded in the middle of his forehead and he could only stumble back, blinking rapidly as his father escaped his grip. 

It took a second for his vision to return after the strength of the headbutt but with the rest of his senses intact, he could hear the sound of wood hitting wood as his father frantically rummaged around in a pile.

'Fuck, he's looking for a weapon.' 

The Head Warrior instantly recognized. 

His suspicion were confirmed when his vision returned seconds later, only to see his Father gripping a sharp piece of the wooden rocking chair that Corey’s Dad used to love sitting in. 

But Corey’s recognition was a second too late and he could only watch as the splintered end embedded itself deeply into the muscle of his left thigh.

"Agh..." he yelled, sucking in through closed teeth, stumbling back a few more paces to lean against the wall for a little extra support.

‘It fucking hurts, the pain radiating through my entire body and making me grit my teeth but nevertheless as an Alpha, I push through it.’

It was obvious that the makeshift spear had penetrated at least three inches into Corey’s leg and to pull the entire thing out would only give him an increased risk of bleeding out. 

So, he simply snapped off the excess that stuck out and pushed himself back up to his feet, breathing a little heavier in an attempt to compensate for the pain.

"Papa, you have to snap out of this," Corey begged, gait now lopsided as he approached his father once more but this time with his hands up in the air.

If he couldn't understand his son’s words, maybe he would understand the universal sign for surrender. 

Raymon’s eyes flitted everywhere, taking in the sight and it was then that his breaths slowed by a fraction.

It didn't mean Corey was in the clear.

No, it would be stupid to think that but it was certainly the best reaction he'd gotten from his father thus far. 

So, Corey sent up a prayer to the Goddess that maybe, just maybe, this meant that his new tactic was working.

He risked another step in his father’s direction, the movement fueled by nothing but hope and desperation.

'Please, please, please,' he chanted inwardly, his entire soul calling out in request.’

What he was doing, went against every single rule, that he taught his Pack Warriors about self-defense but this wasn't some random Rogue Werewolf or an attacking Pack Member. 

Despite Raymon’s current state of mind and the fact that he was definitely just attacking Corey with the intent to kill, it didn't change the fact that this man was his father.

His father, who used to kiss him to sleep at night. 

His father, who used to hoist him up on his shoulders and run at top speed through the forest just to hear him laugh. 

His father, who taught him what it meant to be a good man, a good Alpha.

Corey took one more step, throat tight as he slowly lowered a hand in pursuit of the syringe that stuck out of his back pocket.

He didn't want to use it, he didn't want to use any force against his father if he could help it. 

But judging by the way his leg dripped with so much blood that it made the floor underneath his foot slippery, if his 'hands up' tactic didn't work, it was possible that the sedative may have to be his backup.

Raymon’s eyes flickered down at Corey’s hand,and before the young man knew it, claws were ripping, tearing deep into his chest.

He cursed aloud, jumping back as far as he could as he silently thanked Doctor Benji for forcing him to wear this protective vest, one which softened the blow of the claw attack and protected his skin from being penetrated by his father’s sharp talons.

Raymon twisted his large body at the speed of light, faking in the opposing direction than Corey anticipated as he reached around the young man’s back, no doubt going for the syringe. 

Luckily, Corey was able to spin around just in time, reaching over to grab one of the multiple, metal meal trays left over the past four days. 

He grunted, gathering up all of his strength before he swung it hard, the metal making a loud banging sound as it collided with the side of his Father’s square jaw.

Raymon fell to the ground hard and Corey wasted no time in reaching down to grab the dagger that was always stored securely in the side of his boot, gripping the handle in a tight fist. 

Then, the Head Warrior was on him.

"Papa, I don't want to have to hurt you. I know you're in there. I know you can do it."

Despite Corey’s best efforts, Raymon snarled again, growling and flinging foam into his son’s face as he struggled against him. 

Corey held his knife high up and to the side, using one hand to force both of his Father’s against his own chest.

"Go," Raymon hollered, canines digging into his own skin as he strained his neck in an attempt to bite Corey. 

His voice wasn't his own, the scratchy, demented sound making the young man’s eyes water.

‘He had to be in there. He had to be.’

"No. You never left me," Corey declared, bottom lip wobbling out of control. "So, I'm not leaving you. No matter how long it takes, I'm going to save you, Papa. Just... let me save you," he begged.

Then, there was a knee in Corey’s crotch and the world spun. 

He didn't have a second to recoup from the sudden assault before his other hand was grabbed, his own dagger turned against his as his father pressed down on the younger man’s wrist.

Corey strained against his father's strength, panic rising as he noticed the direction that the tip of the knife faced, pointed directly at his neck.

It was admittedly hard to fight back against Raymon in this position, his delirium acting like a set of steroids on top of his already impressive strength and it didn't help that this straddling position allowed him to utilize his weight for additional leverage.

'Dash, think quick,' Corey pleaded, hoping that his Wolf would have an idea of how they could get out of this mess.

'Let me have your mouth,' Dashiell instructed and as the sharp tip of the dagger pressed ever closer to his jugular, Corey didn't hesitate to comply.

"Papa," Dashiell spoke through Corey, much more steadily than the young man could have managed.  "Do you remember that one time when we got lost in the forest and you taught me how to light a fire? Or that time when Dad and I baked you a birthday cake so tall that it fell over when you tried to blow out the candles?"

Corey blinked, unsure of how a random trip down memory lane would serve to get them out of this life-or-death situation. 

But he trusted Dashiell, aside from the fact that he didn't have a choice not to at this point.

Yes, Corey trusted his Wolf. 

Even as the dagger lowered enough to scrape against his trachea, forcing a tiny rivulet of blood to push out through the puncture.

"Or how about when Berlin, Tyrus and I put on that show for you and Dad in the living room when we were kids, don't you remember? Our singing was more like screeching but you guys stuck through it because you loved us. Because we're a family. Papa. I'm your family. Please remember. Please."

Raymon’s eyes flashed, grip loosening only for a fleeting moment but it was all Corey needed.

He used the momentum of his opposing force to slam the dagger upward, the hard hilt landing right between Raymon's eyes. 

Then, he ripped it from his father’s grip, using his abdominals to sit up and flip their positions once again.

This time Corey made sure to keep his father’s legs pinned underneath his calves, pressing the sharp side of the dagger against Raymon’s throat for an extra measure of protection.

Corey could do nothing but stare as his father snapped his teeth, head thrashing in all sorts of directions in an attempt to escape the firm grasp. 

The arm that held the Warrior’s knife trembled and he found himself suddenly overcome with emotion as his father flailed against him.

‘My face tightened, brows pulled together and then fragmented into an... expression. An expression of despair. Of desperation. Of love.’

"This is our last chance, Papa,” Corey choked out, holding Raymon’s arms as steady as he could through the disorienting blur of tears. "I love you. Please don't make me do this. Please."

He would have sworn that it was a mirage, that his brain was playing tricks on him when his father suddenly blinked up at him, body stilling and red eyes bisecting with tiny swirls of blue.

“Corey.”

Corey jumped, the sound of his own name coming from his Father’s lips a shock to the system after he'd quite literally almost ended his son’s life. 

But even so, the young man couldn't help but let him have control of at least one hand as he tugged it away, a hand that Corey leant into as his father reached up to brush tears from his son’s cheeks.

"My... son," Raymon rasped as if he were fighting to speak and Corey nodded in confirmation.

‘My son. My son. My son.’

Corey was vibrating inside, the fact that he had finally succeeded in getting through to his father calmed his nerves by a significant degree. 

But even so, he knew that celebration would have to wait. 

He needed to tell Raymon everything while he was halfway lucid, to reason with him and get him to leave voluntarily. 

Corey didn't have a single moment to spare, for all he knew is father could drop right back into his psychotic state if he so much as breathed wrong.

But just as the young man opened his mouth to speak, Raymon Cahill beat him to it.

"Corey," Raymon repeated his son’s name, rubbing a thumb across his cheek in a gentle caress. " I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Corey shook his head, reaching one of his own hands up to layer on top of his father’s own that rested on his cheek.

Corey may have been a fully grown man, the Head Warrior and an Alpha at that but in that second, he wanted nothing more than to be six years old again, curled up in his Papa's arms and protected away from the world.

"Papa, I'm fine. None of this is your fault. Please, come with me. We need to get you help right now."

Corey expected his father to nod, to ask him to get off of him so that he could get up, anything other than what he did next, which was to laugh.

It was a humorless, watery thing but a laugh nonetheless.

"There is no saving me," he said, shaking his head, staring up at the ceiling with yet another blank chuckle. "I can't control it. I can already feel myself slipping back."

"Papa, no. It will be okay. Dr Benji knows just what to do to get you help and Oasis has already approved a notion for us to spend any amount of Pack funds that we need to get you better. We've got it all figured out, don't worry," Corey finished but he worried that his words fell on deaf ears when his father smiled up at him.

"Before I found your Dad, I was a monster. He filled a part of me that was far too volatile to be on its own. I was never meant to exist in this world without him in it," Raymon said, his eyes watering, tears cascading down either side of his face to meet his temples as he spoke of his Mate's death. "And you, my children, mean more to me than anything else in this universe. I refuse to put any of you in danger because of my inability to control that part of me."

Corey shook his head again, stronger this time.

"Listen, Papa. I know it's hard and you feel horrible right now but we need you. I need you. How am I supposed to..." he couldn't finish, cut off by a brutal sob that wracked through his entire body, sending shocks of anguish all of the way down to his toes.

"Oh, my son... That's just the thing, I don't feel. You need to listen to me. At this moment I remember who you are but in the next, I could just as easily snap again and kill you. And that... that would be far worse than any pain that death could bring me."

"But..." Corey sputtered, lost for words as to how he could possibly change his father’s mindset.

Raymon was so sure of himself, so stuck in his view that he had no chance of being saved. 

There was no way that Corey was going to be able to break through and convince him otherwise. 

At least, not right now.

It was obvious that there was the only option left.

He needed to use the sedative.

Resolve set firmly in place, Corey went to pull away, to move his hand from the one that rested on top of his father's.

Corey needed to be careful with this, to not make any sudden moves that could key into what he was attempting to do. 

He slid his hand down at a snail's pace, shifting his weight to move the syringe as close to him as possible.

When he finally decided that it was within a close enough range for him to strike with the necessary speed, Corey whipped his hand back, grabbing...

‘Nothing?’

"What?" Corey breathed, eyes widening as his world began to tilt on it’s axis. 

He tried to Mind-Link for help, to call Tank to bring in reinforcements but he just couldn't seem to get the wires in his brain to cross right. 

"H-How?"

"I taught you everything you know, son," Raymon explained gently, tossing the empty syringe to the side before reaching back up to stabilize his son when Corey began to teeter forward. "Don't worry. Your Dad, My Bunny, is waiting for me." 

His voice was quiet now, distant to Corey’s ears despite the fact that they were inches apart.

"Never forget that I am proud of you, my young Alpha. I love you to the ends of the universe. And when you wake, please tell your brothers that I love them, too. Always.”

                                                    *****

Alpha Rayson Cahill moved slowly as he settled his unconscious son to the floor, cradling his head as one would an infant. 

He took the time to savor Corey's features, to commit them to memory so that he could carry them along wherever he was to go next. 

Then, he pressed a kiss to his son's damp forehead, using the touch to dig deep into his son's mind and press one, particular memory inside for him to keep once he awoke.

"Take care of them," he whispered, lingering for a moment longer before finally pressing up to stand.

The Alpha's eyes watered as he turned his head, the sight of his Mate's mottled flesh and empty eyes making that horrible, sinking feeling of insanity begin to overcome his better judgment once again.

But that couldn't happen. 

He wouldn't let it. 

Not this time.

Rayson's fist tightened around the dagger in his palm, the cold metal searing into his flesh as if it knew what he planned to do with it.

The Alpha crawled onto the bed, spooning the remains of a body that once housed the love of his life. 

He wrapped Danny up tight, ignoring the acrid smell as he buried his face into his Mate’s hair, scenting his Omega for the very last time.

He wasn't sure what hurt more, the pain of what happened to his beloved or the throb in his chest as he thought of what never would.

But through all of this, he knew one thing.

He would look for his Mate in every lifetime, in any world, in any universe. 

No matter how long it took, he would find him.

"I'm sorry I made you wait this long, sweetheart," Rayson apologized, pressing a final kiss to the Bonding Mark he had given his Omega so many years ago, 

"Please don't be afraid. I'm coming."

And with a promise sealed with the sharp sting of a blade, Rayson followed his ‘Bunny’ into the enticing caress of oblivion.

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

Janna always had a soft spot for the inventive types.

#if you recognized this as a Deep Breath reference I am kissing you on the mouth right now #my art #janna redesign #janna lol #janna #janna league of legends #Jan’ahrem #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #viktor arcane #viktor

[milf-murdock]

Right Where You Left Me

Matt Murdock x Reader 

A/N: This is pretty much just a re-write of the last scene in Defenders Episode 1. Matt and reader experience the “earthquake”. Just a quick little drabble that popped into my head during that scene and my brain just would not let it go. For reference, reader is some kind of writer (I didn’t think it through too much, okay?).

Warnings: none really, some language ?

Edit: this is the first thing I’ve written in a long, long time so it might be a little rough around the edges. Hope you enjoy it!

A click of the door told you he had just gotten home, but you were too involved in your story to pay it much attention–your  fingers gliding across the keyboard as you furiously typed.

Matt rested his cane up against the wall and shrugged out of his coat. “Hey sweetheart,” he called out as he made his way into the kitchen. You hummed in response as he set his glasses on the counter and made a beeline for the fridge, desperate for a beer after the long day. Just as he was reaching for one of the cold green bottles, he heard it. A deep, thunderous rumble. Something was different. Something was happening. A heartbeat later, and the bottles in the fridge began to clink, the whole world seeming to vibrate out of nowhere.

“Matt?” you called out, a panicked edge setting into your voice. The ground became unsteady, and the noise escalated. Police sirens started wailing in the distance, shouts could be heard throughout the building. You jumped from your place on the couch and stumbled to get to Matt, the ground moving from beneath your feet. Relief washed through you once you felt his firm grip around your waist and you clung to him, to safety.

Glass shattered as the coffee pot fell from the kitchen counter, followed by the heavy thud of books being knocked off the shelves. Matt squeezes you tighter. “It’s okay,” he mutters, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “It’s okay.” Head pressed against his chest, you could hear his heart racing.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, it was over. The rumbling stopped. Matt let out a shaky breath, and loosened his vice-like grip on you. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you breathed out, your voice shakier than you wanted it to be. “I’m okay,” you said, forcing some firmness in your tone. Matt nodded his head in acknowledgement before tuning into the sounds around him. Shouts, sirens, cries flooded his senses and you quickly recognized the look in his eyes.

“Matt,” you let out his name as if in warning. His reply was firm, no room for arguing. “I have to go. You know that.” You swallowed your response and conceded with a silent nod, knowing he could sense the gesture. As Matt made his way to the window, you wrapped a firm hand around his wrist. “Be careful.” A command, not a suggestion. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “Always am.”

And with that, he was gone. With a deep sigh you took in the state of your home, light fixtures still swaying slightly. You didn’t have a  clue  what the  fuck just happened,  but  the feeling deep in the pit of your stomach  told  you this  was  no minor earthquake. Unsure of what else to do, and needing to  keep yourself busy, you began to  pick up the pieces of your apartment.

You started  with your books which had fallen  from  the  shelf. As you stack the last book in its rightful place, you notice the fallen frame. Picking it up, mindful of the broken glass, you can’t help but let out a soft smile. It was one of the first pictures of you and Matt—taken by  Foggy on the first of many nights out at Josie’s. He was leaning up against a pool stick, arm wrapped around you, and you were both laughing. The photo was blurry, and neither of you were looking at the camera, but the joy that radiated from your faces made this photo one of your favorites. You gently set the frame back up and take an extra moment to savor the memory. You wouldn’t change a goddamn thing about your life or the man you have come to love with every fiber of your being.

#Matt Murdock x reader #Matt Murdock #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock imagine

[xjoonchildx]

snapshot | jhs x reader

summary: after a day at the beach, hoseok has some surprises in store for his longtime love

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, smut, fluff OH MY GOD SO MUCH FLUFF y'all i apologize

word count: 4.7K

notes: this fic is a commission fic for the lovely @wwilloww as part of the @armyadvocates fundraising initiative to stop hate crimes against AAPI. miss willow asked for an old house, candles and soft smut as well as a mystery box. i did my best to deliver on all counts because willow is amazing and deserves all good things.

thanks go to @hobi-gif @ladyartemesia and @btsarmy9593 for beta reading parts of this story, thanks so much for keeping me on track ladies! a very special shoutout to @sahmfanficbts who helped me come up with a very *key* part of this plot.

warnings: no one dies? no one is in danger of dying? who am i? standard smut, unprotected sex. liberal sunscreen use. low air quality due to paint fumes and sawdust. references to yoongi, who we can assume is cranky offscreen, references to @untaemedqueen first suggestion of what was in the box.

Warm.

Hoseok is so warm right now, inside and out. He stretches his long body out on the length of his beach lounger, enjoying the feeling of the sun beating down on his skin. His buzz is mellow and pleasant. He lets his eyes drift shut, lulled into a lazy calm by the sounds he can hear all around him.

The steady lap of the waves against the shore. Kids laughing as they run around on the sand. Off in the distance, a bluetooth speaker thumps out a song that’s too far away for him to recognize. And after a few minutes, another sound.

Your bright laughter, carried to him on the breeze.

God, he loves that sound.

“You are such a lightweight,” you tease. Hoseok can hear the smile in your voice. “Two beers and you pass out on me.”

He cracks one eye open to find you standing beside his lounger. The early evening sunlight streams through the strands of your dark hair and warms your bronzed skin, bathing you in a kind of golden halo. He gazes up at you, languid and content.

“I’m not passed out,” he argues with a slow grin. “I’m relaxing. Come relax with me.”

Hoseok doesn’t give you a chance to accept his offer, leaning up to grab your hand and pull you down into the narrow space beside him. You laugh when he wraps his arms and legs around you like a starfish, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I’m just enjoying the perfect day,” he murmurs, nosing at the back of your ear, “With my perfect girl.”

“Flatterer.”

Hoseok can’t see you rolling your eyes, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. Just like he can’t see the way you flush and he knows you’re doing that, too.

“We should eat,” you say after a while, shivering when he strokes the pads of his fingers up the soft skin of one bare leg. “Grab something before we have to take the bikes back.”

Hoseok hums under his breath as he slides his palm up the curve of your thigh, boldly searching for trouble under the hem of your sundress. You bat his hand away and he laughs, hugging you tighter.

“Alright,” he agrees in a whisper, ghosting his lips down the nape of your neck. You jolt in his arms when he sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, nipping playfully. “Just a quick bite.”

There’s not much difference between a sundress and a négligée is there?

Certainly not from where Hoseok is sitting, anyway.

He studies you as he rides close behind, watching the way your hair whips in the breeze as you pedal. One delicate sundress strap slips down your sun-warmed shoulder, exposing just a bit more of your back. Then the wind grabs a hold of your sheer skirt, lifting it just long enough for Hoseok to get a glimpse of the pretty white panties underneath.

God, he loves those panties.

Could stare at them all day, really.

But instead he forces himself to pedal faster and take the lead, grinning when you take note of his advance and glare. It’s for the best because while you think this is just some meandering evening ride, he’s the only one who knows where you’re really headed. For the best because if he falls off his bike and breaks his face because he’s too busy staring at your ass, the entire night will be ruined before it has the chance to start.

It’s quiet on this street just a few blocks from the shore.

Dolmeori Beach is rockier, more wooded than the beaches preferred by most tourists and that’s always suited Hoseok just fine. When he was a kid, he’d steal away when the weather was warm and hop the train here from Gwangju any chance he got.

It’s always felt like his place, his personal piece of sea and sand.

Pine trees loom high over the pavement, canopies so dense they block out much of the waning sunlight streaming down from above. The shade beneath the leaves makes the heat bearable, but it also makes it hard to judge the time. Hoseok steals a quick look at his watch.

Right on schedule. He hopes Yoongi followed his instructions to the letter.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases over his shoulder, and he chuckles at the sound of frustration you make as you pedal faster to catch up. It takes a few seconds for you to coast into position at his side.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” you fuss, “Wanna clue me in?”

Hoseok turns his head to smile at you, sly like a fox.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The realtor had said the place would need a little love.

Turns out, it needs a lot more than a little. But Hoseok was able to see right past the weathered wooden porch and salt air-worn paint right away. When he found this place online, he knew it was the one.

He slows his bike to a stop as the two of you make your approach, taking note of the warm light that glows just behind the frosted glass pane in the front door. Looks like Yoongi came through.

“What is this place?” you ask, skidding to a stop beside him. You stand over your bike on tiptoes as you survey the house, brow knit in confusion.

“It’s a surprise,” Hoseok grins, hopping off his bike. He shoves the kickstand into place and offers you his hand, which you accept with a suspicious smile. “Wanna go in?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug. “We’ve probably already stolen these bikes. What’s a little breaking and entering on top of that?”

Hoseok laughs, leading the way to the front door.

He cringes when the porch floorboards creak loudly beneath his feet, making a mental note to put that project next on his to-do list. You stand with arms crossed, watching silently as he crouches down to lift the mat at the front door, fingers feeling beneath for the concealed key.

You stop him with fingers wrapped around his forearm when he gets to his feet.

“Wait,” you whisper frantically. “We can’t just walk into someone’s house, Hoseok.”

He chuckles before leaning down to kiss the adorable confusion right off your face. Then he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door wide open.

“Not someone’s house,” he corrects, watching you peer skeptically inside.

You step slowly through the threshold and scan the candle-lit front room before turning to him with wide eyes.

“Our house.”

“You bought a beach house.”

It’s the third time you’ve said it by now, and not once has the hushed observation been directed at Hoseok. You said it when you brushed your fingertips over the freshly-dried spackle on the living room wall, said it again as you passed your hand over the base coat of stain on the mantle over the fireplace.

You say it again as you turn to him, jaw slack with disbelief.

“You bought a beach house.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok admits sheepishly, uncertain of your reaction. He tries to see the room the way you must see it now, candles and tools scattered across the tables, floors covered in drop cloths, cans of paint and plaster stacked up in the corners.

Yoongi had done a decent job of clearing up most of the clutter before he left, but judging by the astonishment on your face, he’s probably been romanticizing the mess in here.

He’d really hoped to have a lot more done the first time he brought you here, but he’s learned the hard way that some home renovation projects don’t go as smoothly in real life as they do on YouTube. The process has been a bit of trial and error, with a lot more error than he’d originally counted on.

“I know it doesn’t look like a whole lot right now,” he says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, “But it’s going to look great when I’m done. Yoongi helped me sand all week.”

You shake your head like you’re coming out of a daze.

“Oh my god Hoseok, no -- ” you vow with a shaky laugh, “ -- no, this is incredible. This is amazing. I’m in shock.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok grins, relief melting over him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted -- ”

“ -- Wait,” you interrupt, one brow quirked high as you step closer. “You said… you said something important. You said this was our house.”

“Did I?”

You narrow your dark eyes at him and he chuckles uncomfortably, nerves kicking in for the first time tonight. The feeling -- and the occasion both call for more booze. Which he’s prepared for.

“Are you going to give me a tour?” you ask.

“Later,” he says. “After.”

“After what, Hoseok? You’re killing me slowly with all this suspense.”

“Hang out here for a second,” he instructs, ducking into the small kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes him no time at all to find the bottle of Moet he’s stashed in the fridge and the clean champagne flutes tucked away into the corner of his dutifully-dusted kitchen cabinet. He double-checks the contents of the box on the counter, making sure everything is in place.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Your brows lift in surprise when he walks back into the room with that box in his hands. You watch him set it down on the floor, saying nothing when he turns back to retrieve the champagne and glasses.

When he finally returns, you’re on your knees -- examining the package. Lips pursed thoughtfully as you press your fingers to the gold flecks on the fabric lid.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, flicking your gaze up to find his. “I have so many questions right now.”

You look so damned beautiful in this candlelight -- like you brought your golden glow from the beach indoors. Like you absorbed the sun’s rays and you’re emitting them now like some kind of superpower.

“Have a drink with me,” he murmurs, “And I’ll answer them.”

Something in the room shifts then; the temperature changes. The silly fun of the afternoon evaporates, leaving behind something heavy and heady. Hoseok knows you feel it too, when your half-smile slowly drops and you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Let’s have a drink.”

You watch him with those focused dark eyes as he pops the champagne. The drink bubbles over the lip of both flutes as he pours, on account of his haste and shaky hands. Then you take one of the glasses in hand and offer him the other, which he quickly accepts.

“To this surprise housewarming,” you declare, raising your flute for a toast.

Hoseok clinks his glass against yours, taking note of the way you watch him carefully over the lip of your glass as you’re tilting back the flute to take a sip. He decides he can’t keep you -- or himself -- in suspense any longer.

“You know how special you are to me, right?”

You make a face.

“Did you bring me to your new house to break up with me?”

Hoseok’s startled laugh turns into a cough and tears prick his eyes as champagne bubbles blaze a path up his sinuses.

“Yes,” he says dryly, once he’s managed to collect himself. “I figured dumping you by candlelight sounded like the most romantic option.”

You tip your head back when you laugh, light playing off the curve of your neck, your collarbones, the tiny gold pendant that sits in the pretty dip at the base of your throat.

God, he loves your skin.

Hoseok looks at you long and hard before lifting his flute to take a long drink.

“This is for you,” he says quietly, acknowledging the box out loud for the first time.

“What’s in it?”

“A human head,” Hoseok snorts, flinching when you reach over to pinch his leg. “Don’t be a pain. Just open it.”

Your eyes light with excitement as you smooth your hands over the lid and Hoseok can’t help but smile. But your excitement turns into confusion the moment you open the box and find the neat row of plain white envelopes inside.

“What is this?”

“Quit asking me questions,” Hoseok deadpans, pouring himself another drink. He tops off your glass, too. “And start at the front.”

You shake your head with a wry smile as you work the first envelope open, slipping your fingers in between the paper folds to fish out the contents inside. Hoseok sips his champagne as you produce the polaroid photo, head cocked to the side as you study it.

It was cold that day, he remembers that. You’d been bundled up in a pretty scarf and matching belted coat. In the photo, the mid-morning sun flares behind you, illuminating your profile as you squint up at a display of laminated menus.

“This is me,” you murmur, mouth quirking into a disbelieving smile, “At the coffee truck outside of work.”

“Yup.”

“We’d just started dating.”

“Yup.”

“How did you take this without me noticing?”

“Easy,” Hoseok laughs. “You stared at that menu for five minutes straight. I’ve never seen someone take coffee selection so seriously. Thought you were gonna order the most complicated drink in history.”

You roll your eyes but you laugh. So does he.

“Turn it over.”

You flip the polaroid over in your hands, eyes moving over the neat block handwriting on the back.

coolest girl i ever met

“This is the day I knew I liked you,” Hoseok murmurs, “Like, really liked you.”

Your eyes are a bit glassy when you look up at him now, the corner of your mouth tugging into a soft smile.

“You were that sure that fast, huh?” “Yeah,” he admits, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was.”

You move onto the next envelope, this time prepared when you pull out yet another polaroid picture. This one is harder to place, taken in the dark, mostly black but for a few splashes of vivid light.

“I don’t know this one,” you frown, ghosting your finger across one particularly colorful blur of red and gold. “I can’t make it out.”

You turn the polaroid over, looking once again for Hoseok’s neat block letters.

she’s into me

You laugh out loud.

“That was the lantern festival in Cheonggyecheon,” Hoseok explains. “I’d invited you, but you’d had plans, remember? And I was just going to get Yoongi to go with me but you called me last minute to say you’d decided to come.”

“I remember,” you say with a smile. “Yeri invited me to a movie, but I cancelled on her. I wanted to hang out with you instead.”

“Yeah, well that’s the night I knew you really liked me.”

“Cocky,” you smirk, reaching for another envelope. “But warranted.”

Your eyes light with recognition the moment you pull the next picture out. You’re crouched down at the edge of his mother’s koi pond, one finger making ripples on the surface of the water.

“First time we ever went to Gwangju together,” you muse quietly. “First time I met your parents.”

You flip the polaroid over.

pretty sure my mom loves her more than she loves me

“Okay, this might actually be true,” you tease, taking a sip of your champagne. “Your mom and dad love me.”

“Yeah, well that was the day I decided I loved you, too,” Hoseok chuckles. “The point where I kind of knew there was no turning back.”

You look up from the photograph then, eyes glassy with emotion when they find his. Candlelight flickering across your face as you look at him fondly.

“You still feel that way?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Keep going.”

The next polaroid is a selfie of Hoseok in bed but it’s by no means sexual. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin has a sallow tint. Next to his pillow, the bedside table is littered with cold medicine and empty cups.

“Is this when you had the flu?” you ask, flipping the polaroid over. The neat block lettering on the back confirms your theory.

she took care of me

“You were so pitiful,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. “Wrapped up in your blankets like a burrito. I swear, men have zero tolerance for discomfort.”

“I nearly died,” Hoseok protests dramatically. “But you dropped everything to come take care of me. That’s the day I knew you loved me, too.”

Your smile is brilliant now, open and sweet as you reach for the last remaining envelope. Hoseok takes another swig of champagne, slugging it down as you pull out the polaroid and study the image.

You are wearing your delicate sundress, leaned up against the wooden railing that separates the sand and rocks. Standing just next to your bike, nose in the air as you breathe in the salt carried on the wind.

“This is today,” you murmur, brows knitting together when you flip the picture over and find the back side blank. “And you haven’t written anything here.”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok starts and stops, clearing his throat. “I haven’t had a chance to write it in yet.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the day I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh.”

You blink. Once, then again. Hoseok can hear the shaky breath you take in when your mouth parts in surprise. He sets his champagne flute down, sufficiently bolstered by the booze.

“So that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m asking you to marry me.”

You’re still mute with shock, eyes wide as they go from Hoseok to the picture and back to Hoseok again.

“But uh, the longer you don’t say anything, the less confident I feel about this entire plan,” he chuckles awkwardly.

You take him off balance when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist. He keeps you both from toppling over with a palm flat to the floor, laughing as you pepper his face with kisses.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you sigh, pressing your lips to his temple, his neck, his jaw. “Yes. To you and to these amazing pictures and to this beach house. Yes to all of it.”

You pull away from him to grab the champagne, eyes flashing mischievously as you take a drink straight from the bottle. “Yes to champagne, too.”

Hoseok feigns shock. “Naughty.”

You kiss him deeply then, thoroughly, enough for him to feel the remnants of the carbonation on your tongue. You tease him with a barely there roll of your hips and his cock responds instantaneously, at the mercy of the warm friction he can feel straight through the thin material of his board shorts.

“You know what I’m thinking?” you murmur against his mouth.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah,” Hoseok chuckles, sucking a breath between his teeth when you bite the skin just below his ear.

“We have a lot to celebrate, right?” you reason, tone light. “But we came here for a housewarming.”

You lean back just far enough to pull your sundress over your head, tossing it carelessly aside, leaving you in nothing but those pretty white panties he loves so much.

“So we should warm it.”

Hoseok grins, pulling the champagne bottle out of your grip. He turns it up just like you did, finishing what’s left before setting it back down.

“I like the way you think.”

The only bedroom in this house is buried beneath a two-inch thick layer of sawdust right now.

Not that making it to a bedroom seems high on your list of priorities.

The fact that you’re both sitting on top of a drop cloth on Hoseok’s living room floor isn’t stopping you from threading your fingers into his hair, slipping your tongue into his mouth, grinding against his lap.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” you laugh, pressing your bare breasts to his chest once he’s managed to untangle himself from your limbs long enough to shrug out of his shirt. Your pebbled nipples drag across the lithe planes of his chest and his cock jumps in his shorts.

“Clever.”

“That’s me,” Hoseok murmurs against your lips, deft fingers slipping beneath the damp cotton between your thighs. He slides the pad of one long finger across your wet slit and you gasp, rocking against it.

“Gotta get you out of these panties,” he laments, pulling one nipple into his mouth and working it with his teeth. You shudder in his hold. “Quick.”

“What are you in such a hurry for?” you tease, circling your hips to chase the perfect pressure of his fingertips. “We have all night.”

“We have about three more minutes if you keep grinding on me like this,” Hoseok laughs, shifting your bodies to lean you back onto the floor. “So give me a break because I want to enjoy this.”

You lie back for him dutifully, dark hair spilling onto the drop cloth around you, skin gleaming in the candlelight. Your gold pendant twinkles at the base of your neck.

God, he loves the way you look like this.

Flushed with excitement and anticipation. Like a feast laid out just for him. He rids himself of those pesky board shorts as fast as he can, leaning over you on hands and knees.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he muses, burying his face into the soft skin under your jaw. “You already said yes, can’t take it back now.”

Your laughter is echoing in his ears as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, across the bronzed planes of your shoulder. He can taste the day on your skin; the ocean salt and sunscreen mixed with that flavor that’s so uniquely you.

“I don’t want to take it back,” you sigh, whimpering when Hoseok kisses a path down the velvety skin between your breasts. He travels lower, kissing just below your bellybutton as he starts working your panties off with one hand. “I’m gonna keep you.”

Hoseok chuckles as he tosses your panties away, off to somewhere unimportant. What’s important is the way you take a deep breath and hold it when his mouth hovers coyly over your cunt.

“Look at me,” he directs, peering up at you from beneath heavy eyelids. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, candlelight dancing over your pretty face.

“I love you,” he breathes, lowering his mouth to make contact with your clit. The air leaves your lungs in that moment, a soft exhalation of air that makes the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

“I love you too,” you sigh, hips jerking at the contact, fingers digging hard into his hair. “So much.”

He knows you by now, knows how you like to be touched. Your rhythmic panting goes a bit ragged, when he slides two fingers into your cunt, crooking up to stroke you the way you like while his mouth works your clit.

God, he loves this part.

The part where you lose any semblance of control. The desperate sounds you make when you start to come apart beneath his mouth and hands.

“Hoseok -- “ your voice is strangled when you call out, “ -- Hobi, I’m gonna come.”

Something about the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. He grits his teeth when your nails dig almost painfully into his scalp as you start to tremble, shuddering against his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, pinning your hips down with his strong hands, keeping you from pulling away from the pleasure that borders on pain. “That’s it. Sound so good when you come for me.”

Hoseok stays face first in your cunt, nose and tongue pressed against you, until he’s certain the last wave has come and gone. Between his own legs, his cock pulses painfully, leaking pre-come at the thought of finally being inside of you.

Your body twitches with the aftershocks of your release as he slowly kisses his way up your thighs, your mound, your stomach.

“How was that?” he asks with a teasing tilt to his mouth, stealing your ability to answer when he kisses you deeply, fitting his slim hips between your legs. He reaches down to grab his stiff cock, sliding it across your slick entrance. You clamp your thighs together to tighten the drag and he groans at the friction.

“Amazing,” you sigh, dragging your nails over his ass, up the lean muscles of his back. “Perfect. You should let me return the favor.”

His dick practically jumps at the suggestion, stomach contracting hard at the prospect of feeling your pretty mouth wrapped around it. But Hoseok is too worked up, too riled up by the alcohol and the excitement.

“Can’t tonight,” he pants, arousal shooting up his spine when you wrap one hand around his now-wet cock. You pump him lazily, trailing soft bites from his jaw to his shoulder. “Need to be inside of you.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for that too,” you admit, guiding the blunt head of his cock to your entrance.

He surges forward then, pushing past the tight grip of your fingers, groaning as he’s enveloped completely by your warm cunt. You whimper at the stretch, locking your legs around him, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pulls back to the tip only to drive in again, earning another strangled moan. You’re squirming beneath him, breathless and dewy, looking like some kind of wet dream.

“I’ll never get over how good it feels to be inside of you,” Hoseok admits, burying himself as deep as he humanly can into you.

You’re so wet he can feel you spilling out onto the base of his dick and for one fleeting moment he wishes you knew how good this feels for him. How wet and hot and tight you feel around him. How being inside of you like this makes his brain go haywire, reduces him to only instinct and need.

You lift your hips to meet each snap of his, the wet sound of your joining echoing off the walls in this mostly empty house.

He hears you moaning his name in between the other sounds you make, in between the panting and mewling that makes his balls tighten. You grip his forearms as he grinds against you, kissing you in between desperate breaths.

“I think I’m gonna come again,” you gasp against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok groans, pulling back to get to his knees. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of one strong forearm, using his one free hand to press a thumb to your clit. His rhythm falters as he watches himself slide in and out of you, hypnotized by the sight of his body joined to yours.

You lift your ass off the floor, back arching as you chase the pressure of his fingers. Hoseok strokes you desperately, feeling his orgasm looming menacingly at the base of his cock. It takes just a few more strained pumps of his hips to set you off.

The second he feels you clamp down around him, Hoseok folds back over you, arms braced on either side of you as he thrusts through his own orgasm. He shuts his eyes and groans as he empties his cock inside of you, thrusting until he can’t anymore.

He collapses onto you, heart racing as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t leave me,” you groan when Hoseok peels his damp skin away from yours to get to his feet.

He strides across the room, completely nude, grinning when you turn onto your side and go up on one elbow to ogle him.

“Just for a second,” he calls out, pulling out every unorganized drawer in the kitchen until he finally comes across a pen. “Gotta finish something.”

He makes a show of holding it in the air as he walks back into the living room, opening the gold-flecked box, and pulling out the last unmarked polaroid photo.

You’re smiling the entire time you watch him pen the last caption on the last photograph.

she said yes

tag list!

@japzalileo @dionysusrage @hey-itsmina @myimaginationsrunningwild @hauntedlilies @spring2787 @suppbeccc @veronawrites @minyoongiboongi @katbonv

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #jhope smut #jhope x reader #networkbangtan #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub

[yazthebookish]

Azriel and Gwyn parallel other mated couples:

“Busybody. But she blew Cassian a soft kiss, too. Her mate. Her love. Her friend. The light within her chest brightened to a radiant sun.” (ACOSF)

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, [...] Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. (ACOSF, Azriel's chapter)

The glow/light in the chest is prominent about mates. It's always a positive connotation when used. While Nesta's light radiates, Azriel's is glowing quietly. That light is beginning to flicker within him.

There, in that hole in my chest—I saw the image there. At first interpretation, he’d look terrifying, vengeance and wrath incarnate. But if you came closer … the painting would show the beauty on his face, the wings flared not to hurt, but to carry me from danger, to shield me. (ACOMAF)

The painting flashed into my mind. Flashed—and stayed there, glimmering, before it faded. But it remained, shining faintly, in that hole inside my chest. The hole that was slowly starting to heal over. (ACOMAF)

He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. (ACOSF, Azriel's chapter)

Flashed = sparked, Painting = Image, shining faintly = glowed quietly, show the beauty on his face = a thing of secret, lovely beauty

Both Feyre and Azriel had kept the images of Rhys and Gwyn in their chests and both where described the painting/image as faintly/quietly glowing in their chest and highlighted their beauty.

“She whispered, “And I am yours.” Those golden threads between their very souls shone with the words, as if they formed a harp strummed by a heavenly hand. For it was music between their souls. Always had been. And his voice was her favorite melody.” (ACOSF)

“The golden threads shimmered and sang, and she couldn’t take it, the music between their souls” (ACOSF)

Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. (ACOSF, Azriel's chapter)

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

Like how I previously highlighted on the many musical references always being made for mated couples, music IS an element here. “Music between their souls” “the song of the soul” Azriel's shadows can hear it, this explains the singing and dancing. He, being a Shadowsinger, can hear it and I don't put it past Az that he wouldn't recognize his own mating bond. SJM loves music and she would use it for something as precious as a mating bond.

And where do you feel the bond?

I still felt it, that hollowness in my chest where the bond had been, where he had been. (ACOWAR)

...

One chapter gave us more evidence that they were mates than the other characters who had clues scattered all over the book. This isn't even their book yet and we've noticed all of this.

I would find it ironic that Azriel being the one that wanted a mating bond the most couldn't even recognize his. I can see it happening.

#acosf #acosf spoilers #gwynriel #azriel #gwyneth berdara

[fivelakesinwriting]

Slummin' It - Part 2 (Barry - OBX)

Author's Notes: I wanted to write a "prequel" of sorts to the first Slummin' It. I liked the dynamic of the first one so much, and I thought it gave it some back story - and I named Barry's girl for this story (I'm not entirely sold on her name, I have another one in the back on my head - let me know what you think)

Warnings: Violence, Guns, Swearing, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos (SMUT - NO SERIOUSLY. IT'S FILTH * Mutual masturbation, choking, oral sex - female receiving, spanking, bit of dom/sub, daddy kink, breeding kink??? I'm sorry )

Requested? NOPE. Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

He kept his seat low as he pulled her Oldsmobile up to the edge of the property, turning off the lights so they wouldn't be seen.

"Alright. Hand me the piece in the glove box, and stay here. I'll be back in 10 minutes." Barry mumbled as he turned off the engine of the car, and twisted his body towards her.

"Baby, can't I come with you?" She asked as she unbuckled her seat belt, reached for the glove box and handed him the Glock.

"Fuck no, woman. Crazy enough I let you come along for this. Stay here and wait." Barry replied as he loaded the gun, and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Fine. Be safe." She sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking him up and down.

"Count on it." Barry grinned as he leaned over the console to give her a kiss, unsatisfactory to them both, then exited the car.

She sighed as she ran her hands through her hair and rested back in the seat, checking the time, ready to count the minutes until he would be back.

It had been 12 full minutes since Barry had left, and she was restless. She got out of the Oldsmobile and wandered towards the house party. She made her way through the crowd of people in the front of the house and made her way to the back of the house where a fight had broken out.

"You owe me money, Kook. So, pay the fuck up." Barry yelled as he held one of the boys on the ground in a choke hold.

"Control your psycho boyfriend, druggie skank." A girl She didn't recognize sneered, coming up to her and giving her shoulder a shove.

"I'm not the one with a coke tab. So, maybe your boyfriend should pay mine." As She wound up to strike the girl, she turned her face when she heard her name.

"Tatum!" Barry growled as he gave a swift kick to the Kook in the stomach, then dropped him.

"Fuck!" She cried out when a fist collided with the side of her face. Before she was able to react, she felt Barry's arms around her waist pulling her away from the crowd and back to the car.

"You being an idiot. I told you stay here. Now look, got yourself hit in the fucking face." Barry growled under his breath as he carried her over his shoulder, then sat her on the hood of the car.

"I was worried about you." She sniffled as she pressed her fingertips to her sore face.

"You ain't gotta worry about me, woman. I'm good. Took that Kook's money before I saved that bitch from feeling your wrath." Barry mumbled as he inspected her pretty face, pursing his lips at the mark already forming on her cheek.

"Is it bad?" She asked as she reached for his sides to pull him between her legs.

"You gonna have a mark for sure." Barry replied with a shake of his head as he thumbed her tender skin.

"Am I still cute?" She whispered as she reached under the hem of his shirt to feel his skin, not even flinching when she felt the gun in his waistband.

"Cutest bitch in the OBX. Never had a girl take a hit for me before." Barry smiled as he laid his hands on her thighs.

"I'd do it again, too." She muttered as she pulled her fingers down his stomach.

"You won't have to. Get in the car, T." Barry mumbled as he pulled her hands out from under his shirt.

Barry drove them home in relative silence, his hand on her thigh and the other on the steering wheel. He pulled into the drive of house and killed the ignition.

"C'mon. I'll clean you up and take you to bed." Barry grunted as he opened his door and made his towards the front of the house.

He gently took her wrist and led her towards the small bathroom, propping her against the little sink before he rustled through his cabinets for something to wipe her face with.

"That hurts." She winced as he pressed a cool cloth to the broken skin of her cheek, no doubt a bruise forming.

"Sorry." He grumbled as he pulled the cloth off her face, then inspected the wound.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Barry." She whispered as she reached for his belt buckle to pull him closer.

"Yeah. Should be alright for you now. Can get you iced if you need it." Barry nodded, his hand on the side of her neck.

"I'll be okay. But I'll let you dote on me a little longer, if you want." She smiled as she pressed her forehead to his.

"Get to bed and take your clothes off." Barry replied with a kiss to her lips, then pulled his hands off of her.

She smiled and quickly walked out of the bathroom, and into the bedroom, tugging her shirt off on the way. Barry ran his fingers over his mustache, a smile on his face as he watched her backside sway for him.

Barry followed her to his bedroom, pulling his own t-shirt over his head. He walked in to see his girl on her back, naked except for her panties, her legs spread for him.

"That's the shit I wanna see." Barry growled deep in his chest as he palmed himself over his pants, his eyes zeroed in on the little wet spot on her panties.

"Come here, baby." She whispered as she reached for him.

Barry walked around the edge of the bed slowly then leaned against the wall opposite her. He ran his fingers under his chin and looked her over.

"Touch yourself first." He ordered firmly, even though he absolutely ached to touch her, and pull those wet panties off with his teeth.

"Barry." She whined as she sat up and looked at him with an exaggerated out.

"Do it. You didn't listen to me when I told you to stay in the car. Can make it up to me by putting on a little show." Barr grumbled looking her over, all alone in the bed.

She raised her eyebrows at him, then knelt up on the bed, pulling her panties to the side. She smiled as his breath visibly hitched in his chest as she reached down and ran her middle finger through her soaked folds.

"Like this, baby?" She whispered as she circled her clit, her eyes fixed on his face as she pleasured herself for him.

"Yeah. Bend over and show me?" Barry growled, his hand inside his pants giving himself a few strokes as he watched her.

She squealed as she pulled her panties down her knees then turned around, bending over to show him her backside. She reached between her legs and began to touch herself again.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy." Barry growled as he surged forward to kneel on the bed, his tongue pressed to her soaked folds.

"Barry!" She cried out, one hand gripped at the messy sheets as the other reached back to grab his hair as he tongued at her entrance.

Barry mumbled something incoherently against her soaked core as the tops of his index and middle finger pressed inside her slowly.

"Baby, please." She moaned out as she pushed back into his face.

"You want it?" Barry breathed as he slipped both fingers inside her and curled them to tap her sweet spot immediately. He slapped her ass when she rolled her hips back for more, even though he was desperate to give it to her.

"Yes, please. I'll be so good. Please, baby." She begged as she gripped at the sheets with both hands, her hips desperately trying to ride his fingers.

"Gonna listen to me when I tell you to do something?" Barry asked as he pressed a kiss to the small of her back, his thumb reaching for her clit as his fingers nudged at her g-spot.

"Yes! Yes! Whatever you say!"

"And what's my fucking name?" Barry growled as his fingers relentlessly pounded at her sweet spot.

"Daddy! You're Daddy!" She practically drooled as she tugged at his sheets, coming around his fingers.

"Fuuuuck. Turn over woman." Barry growled as he slowly slid his fingers out from inside of her, sucking them into his mouth as she flipped onto her back.

"Please." She begged as she pulled her panties off her ankle, tossed them to the floor and reached for the soldier. She pulled down the waistband of his pants, letting his aching erection spring free.

"You desperate for it tonight, huh? Barry groaned as he felt her hand wrap around him.

She bit at her bottom lip and nodded as she spread her thighs for him. Barry grunted as he dropped to his forearms above her, reaching between them to line his tip up with her entrance.

"Barry!" She gasped as he thrust inside of her, settling inside of her completely. He didn't give her any grief about not using his nickname, he knew he always took her by surprise.

"Tight. So fucking tight." Barry growled as he pulsed his hips just a little. They had sex that morning, but her walls around him felt like the first time, almost every time.

"More." She cooed her arms around his neck and her eyes hazy as she looked at him through her lashes.

"Yeah? You want it rough?" Barry breathed as he pressed his fingers around her throat.

"Make it hurt." She whispered, sinfully sweet to him, and Barry thought he might just come from that.

"Shit." He grunted with a bite of his lip and a powerful thrust forward, before he grabbed her left thigh and pulled it over his shoulder for a deeper angle.

A gasp rattled in her chest, one hand reached for his wrist around her throat while the other hand gripped the sheet. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he pounded at her g-spot, her nails deep in his skin.

"Can I cum?" She whispered as she nudged his forehead with hers, her eyes half open as his fingers flexed on her throat.

"Ask again. The right way, woman." Barry growled with a quick kiss of her pouty lips.

"Can I cum please, Daddy?" She begged as she pulled her hand from the sheets and reached for his shoulder, her nails deep in his skin.

"Yeah. Lemme feel you, woman." Barry grunted as he kept his thrusts deep and steady.

He watched her intensely as she tossed her head back as she orgasmed around him, her nails scratching over the still tender skin on his shoulders. Her walls clenching and quivering around him were too much, too good, and he couldn't help but finish inside her.

"You came inside of me." She panted with a smile as she pressed her palms to his shoulders, releasing her grip on his wrist.

"Sorry." Barry grumbled as he pulled his hand from her throat, then kissed her chin.

"No. I love it. Will you do it again next time?" She asked sweetly, her nose brushing over his as her fingertips ran down his spine.

"If you good, I'll fill you up. Yeah." Barry mumbled even though it was the sexiest thing a woman had ever said, or asked of him.

Hotties List (Still open!!):

@starkey-babie @sodasback @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

#barry baddies #barry x reader smut #barry x reader #barry obx #outer banks barry #obx barry #outer banks imagines #outer banks smut #outer banks requests #obx fanfiction #obx smut #obx requests

[angelasscribbles]

Heir Apparent Chapter 4: We Can Work It Out

Heir Apparent is a series which finds Riley married to Drake but possibly pregnant with Liam’s child.

Catch up here: Heir Apparent.

Everything else: Master List.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Characters: Drake Walker, Liam Rys, Riley Campbell

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, references to sex

Song Inspiration for this chapter: We Can Work It Out by The Beatles

Disclaimer: Characters represented here as well as the original story are owned by pixelberry. This content has been written by Angela Harrison based on those characters/stories.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up, it was still daylight out. He felt Riley shift beside him and gazed down at her. She rolled toward him as she blinked awake. She gave him a sleepy smile.

His eyes swept over her body and guilt crashed into him. Dark splotches were spreading across her neck, deep and ugly looking. His eyes dipped to her hips where his fingers had gouged into her, leaving angry bruises. “Oh God, Riley, baby, I’m so sorry.”

She looked at him quizzically, “For what?”

“I hurt you!” He leaned down and laid gentle, restrained kisses across the bruises dotting her hip bone, His fingers ghosting over them following the trail of his warm kisses. He moved up to her neck, brushing her hair aside with tenderness and running his fingers along the blotchy spots marring her perfect skin. He felt regret hit him like a physical blow.

Riley shivered under his touch. “Drake, we’ve had rough sex before.”

“Not quite like…….that.” That hadn’t been rough sex, that had been angry sex.

“Still. It’s fine, I’m fine.” She assured him.

“But the baby-“

She peered up at him cautiously, “You…you’re worried about the baby?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I-“ he pulled away from her and sat up, “Jesus! What kind of a monster do you think I am? Even if the baby isn’t mine, it’s still a baby! Fucking Christ woman!”

“No, Drake! I didn’t mean-“ she was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. It was Liam. Riley had customized ring tones for everyone in their circle and Drake recognized the tune from The Lion King as “I just can’t wait to be king” blared out of Riley’s phone.

“Better get that.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he slipped from the bed.

Riley hit end on the phone without answering, “Drake, wait! What are you doing?”

“I’m getting dressed.” He said as he pulled on his boxer briefs followed by a pair of jeans.

“Why?” She demanded as she hopped out of bed and reached for her robe from the hook on the wall.

“That’s what one does when one is naked.” He replied while slipping a t-shirt over his head.

“You know what I mean, you’re not leaving again are you?” Leaving me, she thought as she pulled on the robe.

Her phone rang again. Liam. Again.

Drake raked a hand through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath, “You might as well answer, he’s not going to stop calling.”

Riley walked back to the bed, hit end on her phone again and tossed it to the side, “Drake, why is Liam calling me?”

He turned to stare at her in stunned disbelief, “Why the fuck do you think?”

She felt her heart sink. No, no, no, no, no! She stared at him, horrified, “You told him?!” She lowered herself onto the bed as panic sliced through her.

Drake shook his head in frustration, “Yes! I told him! Don’t you think he has a right to know?”

“No!”

“No?”

“No! Not yet anyway! Fuck Drake, this is our life, our baby-“

“Well, you didn’t seem so sure about that this morning!” He wanted to cry again; it was easier to be angry.

“Goddamn it Drake! What if the baby is yours? Did you stop to think about that for one fucking minute? Then you got Liam involved for nothing! He never even had to know about the possibility! This is something we should have dealt with first, together, before getting anyone else involved, fuck! And did it ever occur to you that if it is Liam’s baby, I might want some input into how and when to tell him? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet and I’m already fielding phone calls from him! We could have waited until we knew for sure, and until we, you and I, had decided the best course of action. Then we could have told him together, presented a united front. After we’d had time to figure out our own shit. Which is way more important to me than when Liam finds out!”

Drake stared at her; all the fight gone out of him. Shit! He hadn’t thought of any of that, he had just reacted. He stopped angrily getting dressed and pulled himself up to sit on top of the long dresser across from the bed as he watched her. She was so fucking beautiful, even angry, maybe especially angry. Her long auburn locks cascaded over her shoulders, messy and wild. Her emerald eyes snapped with fire.

He dropped his eyes, not wanting her to know how she was affecting him. His heart clenched and butterflies erupted in his stomach. She had a way of making him nervous, fidgety, even now.

“You’re right. I didn’t think about any of that. I was just angry, and I wanted to confront him about Vegas.”

“Is that how you got the bruises?” She asked softly.

She wanted to ask how Liam was, but she was afraid he would misinterpret that. Of course she cared if Liam was ok, she cared about him, deeply but it didn’t touch what she felt for Drake. She had never been able to convince him of that though.

At least not until she had turned down Liam’s proposal and accepted his. She thought that had been a turning point. And maybe it was. All the progress they had made, Vegas had erased. She felt like they were back at square one. She mentally cursed herself. Everything had been going so well and they had been so happy, finally.

“Yeah.” He said, one hand coming up to rub his sore jaw, “It took five guards to pull us apart.”

“But…..why?”

“Why?” He stared at her in shocked confusion. How the hell did she not get it? He was weak for her, he was crazy, head over heels in love with her. She destroyed all his common sense, all his better judgement. She left his ego in tatters, and he didn’t even mind. He was completely and utterly at her mercy; he would crawl through broken glass for her. She was everything to him, his whole world.

And deep down, in the bottom of his heart, he knew he wasn’t good enough for her. He’d do anything to make her happy, give her anything within his power to give, but he was always afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that he wouldn’t be enough.

Finding out about Vegas was verification of his worst fears. Just when he had started to relax, just when he let himself believe she was really his, she had dropped that bombshell and blown everything out of the water.

Why. She wanted to know why.

“Because I fucking love you, that’s why! I married you! He betrayed me Riley, you betrayed me! I- fuck!” He jumped down from the dresser and turned around to kick it.

He turned back toward her as he sank to the ground, leaning back against it and gave her a look that was so wounded she thought her heart might break right in two. “How could you? I thought you loved me too.”

She made it out of bed and across the room to him in record time, she slid to the floor next to him, tears pouring down her face. She dropped to her knees in front of him, grabbed him with both arms and pulled him into her.

He let her, making no move to embrace her back but burying his face in her chest as his body heaved with sobs.

“I do love you! That’s why I married you! I love you so much that sometimes I can’t breathe! I never meant to hurt you, I never meant for any of this to happen! I’m sorry Drake! I’m so, so fucking sorry!” She started crying harder and finally his arms went around her and they clung to each other while the grief and anguish poured out of them.

When the tears subsided, they pulled apart, arms still around one another and sat staring into each other’s eyes, neither one sure what to say next.

Riley’s phone rang again.

“God damn it!” Drake sprang up off the floor and was at the bed before Riley realized what he was doing.

He hit talk and without giving Liam a chance to say anything, bellowed into it, “She’s busy! She’ll call you back when she’s ready, stop blowing up her fucking phone!”

He hit end and threw it back on the bed, then spun around, strode back across the room, dropped to the floor beside her, drew his knees up, clasped his arms around them, fixed her with a level stare and asked, “Why?”

She blinked, “Why what?”

He made a quite sound of disbelief and rolled his eyes. Was she being obtuse on purpose?

“Why did you do it then? If you love me, why did Vegas happen?”

He waited, refusing to drop her gaze, hope and dread fighting for dominance inside him. He knew there was nothing she could say to make it ok, but his idiot heart still hoped with everything in him that he was wrong, that there was some explanation that would make things ok between them again. Anything. He was grasping at straws.

Riley’s gaze darted away as guilt flashed across her face. She closed her eyes while she tried to form her thoughts into something that would make sense to him. Or, at the very least, not hurt him any more than she already had.

“The least you can do is give me an explanation. I think you owe me that much.” He said it so softly, almost a whisper. Nothing like his normal voice.

“I know.�� She whispered, “And that’s not all I owe you. I owe you everything.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I mean, you saved my life-“

Drake threw his hands up in the air, “Not that again! I’ve told you a million times, you don’t owe me for that! I’d do it again, right now, even though you’ve put a knife through my heart, I’d still take a bullet for you! But I sure as hell never wanted you to pick me on the basis of that!” I just want you to want me, love me.

“That’s not why I chose you!” She touched his face, lifting his chin so he was looking at her, “I chose you because I love you. I have never loved anyone the way I love you!”

She said it with such heat and conviction that he almost believed it. He wanted to believe it.

“Then why?” He had to know. It was probably stupid on his part to demand answers, but he had to know, he didn’t think they could move forward otherwise. And he so wanted to move forward, move past this.

Riley drew in a deep breath, “Honestly? Closure, I guess. And tequila. I mean, I’m not blaming the tequila precisely, but if I hadn’t been drunk, I don’t think it would have happened.”

“Closure for who? You? Him?”

“Maybe a little of both. Drake, we were so happy that night, you and I. And he was so sad. I know he didn’t really show it, but I could see it.”

“So, what? You fucked him because he was sad? Are you going to fuck him every time he’s sad?”

“Of course not! That’s…that’s not what I meant….”

“Then what did you mean? Because I really need to know you’re not going to fall into bed with him every time he’s sad about losing you! If that’s the case, are you going to give him pity fucks forever?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Of course not, huh? I mean, that’s what I would have said about you doing him in Vegas but here we are.”

And it wasn’t just that she had slept with him. If it wasn’t for the issue of paternity, it would be a lot easier to get over. Not easy. Just easier.

Riley squeezed her eyes shut. Damn it, damn it, damn it! She drew a shaky breath and tried again, “Ok, I’m trying to explain but can I please point out that I really, truly thought you had agreed and were ok with it? I didn’t mean to betray you! I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you!”

He snorted a humorless laugh, “How drunk were you?”

“Pretty fucking drunk, seriously, sloppily drunk. Not that I’m saying it excuses anything but sheesh, it at least helps explain it, doesn’t it?”

He thought about it for a long moment. He’d had nights he’d been blackout drunk. He’d woken up with zero memory of the night before. He strained to remember that particular night because to be fair, he had been pretty damn drunk himself.

She had asked if she could have one last fling. He had said yes. He had thought she was joking, because he was too drunk to read her body language. She had thought he was serious for the same reason.

A stab of pain flashed through him at the thought that a simple, drunken miscommunication had caused all this. How stupid and utterly preventable.

He felt the tightness in chest relax a little. She hadn’t meant to lie to him, to hide things from him. But the bigger question remained, why would she have asked in the first place?

“Ok,” he conceded, “the drinking explains how it happened, but god damn it baby, I still need to know why! I’ll give you that you thought I knew and was on board. But why did you want to…do that…anyway? Two days before our wedding?”

“I don’t know!” She wailed, “I felt guilty that I was so fucking happy, that we were so happy! I know he thought I was his chance to marry for love and I feel like I took that away from him, like I kicked his damn puppy or something.”

Drake actually did understand that, he felt the same guilt, the same sense of responsibility for tanking Liam’s chance at happily ever after. It’s why he had fought his feelings for her so hard for so long.

“I thought it was goodbye, you know, a way for him to move on. We never really talked about it, after he proposed and I said no and told him I was in love with you. You didn’t see his face in that moment. I crushed him, Drake, I destroyed him! I didn’t mean to but-”her words cut off as the tears overtook her again.

He scooted over and put his arms around her without even thinking about it. “It’s ok, baby, it’s ok.” Her murmured into her hair as he rested his head against hers.

“It’s not ok!” She sobbed, “It’s not because I hurt you! I hurt us! I ruined everything!” The tears started coming harder and he hugged her to him tighter.

He never could stand to see her cry. “It is ok, or at least, it’s going to be. Please don’t cry.”

She looked up at him, her face red and blotchy and streaked with tears, “Are you ever going to forgive me? Please, please tell me we can work this out!” She pleaded.

Before he could reply, there was a knock on the door.

“Seriously?” He growled under his breath. Out loud he yelled, “What?”

Through the door, one of the maids answered, “Sorry to interrupt your grace, but you have company.”

Drake looked at Riley, she shook her head to indicated she had no idea who it might be.

“Who?” He asked.

“It’s the king.”

Drake’s head thunked back against the dresser as he hissed out, “Bloody fucking hell!”

#drake walker #choices #trr #drake x mc #angelasscribbles #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #choices stories you play #liam rys #liam x mc #heir apparent #drake x riley #riley campbell #cfwc fics of the week #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations

[harlowhockeystick]

Can you please do write 28. Apple picking and 28. “Mmm... you're so warm with Freddie Andersen? Thank you ! 😘

contains: fluff

"fred...fred...freddie..." you whispered quietly, rubbing your hand through his thick, deep red hair. it was just after seven am, the sun was barely starting to rise over the town of raleigh.

it was quite the adjustment, moving to such a different part of the continent. you're surrounded by new people, new weather, and new scenery. but you have fred, and fred has you. that's enough to keep you sane as the both of you go through a crazy change.

he groaned and nestled his head further into your chest. his big arms wrapped tighter around your body, taking a deep breath, not wanting to wake up quite yet. "freddie, we have to get up."

he groaned again, "no we don't," he mumbled as the large man on top of you rolled onto his back, keeping his eyes closed. now that you were free of his grasp you removed the warm, cream colored covers off your body and sat on the edge of the bed.

freddie opened his eyes and watched as you stretched your upper body, a little grin forming on his lips. he watched you walk around the bed and towards the closet, picking out some clothes to wear for the day. "why do we have to get up, again?" he asked, knowing that it was an off day. usually on his off days he didn't do much, he slept in and had some down time.

"because, we're gonna go to the orchards. remember?" you responded as you walked to the bathroom, getting ready to start your morning routine.

freddie stayed in bed as long as you'd let him. the man loved sleep, you would often refer to him as a bear in hibernation. he could fall asleep at any given moment. it also could have been because of the thing he did for work- playing professional hockey can be tiring sometimes.

by the time you were halfway dressed, freddie was still in bed. he had removed the covers halfway only, exposing his shirtless torso. his toned body on display for you to gawk at, his large hands resting on his stomach. "come on freddie, the earlier we get out there, the earlier we can get home."

you stood next to his side of the bed, pulling on his arm like a little kid trying to convince their parent to go inside the candy store. he sighed and silently agreed by getting out of bed and kissing your forehead. "we'll leave in twenty."

you squealed excitedly, walking out of your bedroom and heading towards the kitchen to make both you and freddie some much needed morning refreshments. this was a part of your day that was never skipped, no matter where in the world you were. whether you were in denmark with freddie visiting family, arizona in the offseason with auston, or here in north carolina, coffee was essential. and it was always apart of your day.

and plus, if you had the preference of making your own coffee the way you wanted, or having someone make it for you, the choice was always going to be the first.

as you stirred your coffee in the paper cups you had (so you can take it places) freddie soon made his way in your direction. pulling a cap onto his head, he leaned down and kissed the top of your head once more. you handed him the cup of coffee you had made for him, a little extra espresso just the way he likes it, he grabbed the car keys from the basket that was on the counter.

"so, where exactly are we going?" he asked, taking a sip of coffee and thanking you in the form of a moan in satisfaction.

"it's an apple orchard, i figured we could go there and pick some apples out?" freddie smiled, he loved how you were always wanting to go and do things with him. and how you were wanting to domestic things as well.

over the years you've brought him out of his shell. he used to be somewhat of a hermit crab, just going to practice and workouts and that's it. you got him out of the house and he's secretly thankful for it.

arriving to the orchard and getting out of the car, you walked with freddie up to the entrance. a few people recognized him and asked for pictures, which he was always willing to take. he didn't see a reason to be mean or reject people for simply wanting a picture. plus, he was the new guy in town. he couldn't have the fans against him before he even took the ice.

you excused yourself and got a wooden basket while freddie talked with some people, getting to know the fans and getting recommendations for local establishments. once the conversations were over freddie went to go find you, and he did between two large apple trees.

"perfect timing, can you get those two for me?" he giggled and reached up for two honey crisp apples and put them in the basket for you.

"this is the only reason you brought me along, isn't it?" he teased. "what do you plan on doing with these, anyway?"

"well. i was gonna make a pie, and the recipie said i needed twelve apples- oh! those two right there!" freddie grabbed the two apples and put them in the basket. he helped you get the rest of your twelve apples in the basket.

"you know i'm not supposed to be eating sweets during season, and you know how much i love your cooking," he drew out desperately. you only laughed in response, playfully shoving him.

"you can't make apple pie in the summer, silly." waiting in line with freddie, a cool breeze blew by. it was a crisp fall day in your neck of the woods. recently it's been hot and humid, and it was now that you missed the cooler air of toronto. but today, today you could live with.

you leaned into him and sighed, "mm...you're so warm." you sighed. it was a true statement, freddie was always warm. he's the reason you never get cold at night. you never understood how he was always warm, but you weren't going to start complaining now.

freddie moved to shield you from the wind, resting his hand on your back. paying for the apples and going back to the car, you made small conversation during the short trip home. "do you need help with the pie?" he offered.

"are you sure you'll be able to control yourself? i know how much you love cinnamon." he leaned his head back and sighed.

"you're right, i'll just have to sit and watch this time." you giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

"whatever you say, big red."

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen x reader #carolina hurricanes #j's writing