#I could try setting it on fire outside maybe. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eupheme · 3 days

Text

— common ground [into the fire, part iii]

part i | part ii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, sex for favors, 1 spank, sub/dom elements, light degradation, use of chems, shotgunning chems, riding, PiV, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: the scene where he complained about doing all the work had me like 👀 (reimagining), so here we go! 💖

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out. Gettin’ you clothes.” A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

(Or - you take the Ghoul for a ride)

"Fuck!”

You crouch outside as another loud shotgun blast fires - the wooden door next to you peppering with bullets.

This wasn't what you had in mind.

You had thought you'd find a chem station in the next town. A pharmacy, an old hospital. Something somewhat respectable - not standing watch as the Ghoul blew his way through a long-abandoned two-story home.

The layered yelling dies off with each pull of his trigger, until everything going silent.

He finds you there a moment later, still curled in on yourself. A roll of his eyes when he sees you - still unused to the violence.

"It's clear." The Ghoul beckons, "Let's find that station."

You follow him inside, your gaze boring a hole into his back. Trying hard not to look down, nose wrinkling when you almost trip over a set of legs that sprawl across the floor.

A hand pinches at your elbow, keeping you upright.

"What?" He asks, at your expression.

"Did you have to..." You start, as he checks down the hallway.

It's empty - the doors leading to two bedrooms. The bed frames bare and rusted, the rooms already picked through.

A shrug, "They shot first."

"You goaded them."

You could hear him, even from outside. That knowing tone - some kind of warning. A rough laugh, and then the firefight had started.

"We're looking for a chem station, sweetheart." He scoffs, head cocking as he backs you up against the door he just closed, "Think they're gonna share with you like you’re on a goddamn play date?"

"They-" You blink up at him, "They might have."

He clicks his tongue, giving you a long look,"You still got a lot to learn, Vaultie."

A second, before he steps away.

"These weren't those kind of people."

You find it in the basement. A man slumped just outside the cracked-open door, the weathered lab coat stained and splattered red on the left-hand side.

Anything salvageable from above must have been brought down here. Three threadbare mattresses behind a makeshift wall. A long couch that faces a television that still runs, the picture blurry with static.

The station sits along the back wall. A beaker still bubbles over the burner, the smell acrid. Bottles litter the surface - something being made in a batch.

Your mind is already racing ahead, eyes scanning for things you'll need. Too-large gloves shoved on, disposing of the burnt mixture while you search for an empty glass.

Missing how he angles the couch to watch, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table. That ever-steady wariness waning with your focus, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sinks into the cushion.

You're too busy to notice. Sorting the different ingredients, littered across the counter.

There's an excess of toxic soot flowers, their petals papery between your fingers. Opened packages of Med-X, a spilled pile of Buffout. A jar of acid.

Psycho. Cut with something else, something stronger. You think the Ghoul was right - maybe you had been foolish to underestimate them.

You try to shake the thought away, as you gather what you need. Antiseptic, from your own bag. Three jars of glowing fungus, found beneath the sagging counter. Ground up and tipped into a dusty beaker, the heat turned down low.

"Can you get me some water?" You call from over your shoulder, a jar held in your hand.

There's no answer. Silence, until something hard presses into your back, pinning you against the table.

It feels familiar, the way his hips nudge against yours, and it sends your mind back. An urge to arch - bend low. Mimicking the days before, where you can still feel the twinge of him with the stretch of your thighs.

"You think you're callin' the shots now, sweetheart?" His voice is low, the brim of his hat brushing your head as he leans over your shoulder.

"No," You squeak - caught off-guard, "I just-, I can't leave this until it thickens."

"Mm.” His hum is low. “Too bad. Would've liked to see you try.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, that rough drawl, even after the last couple days. A thin layer of suggestion in his tone, as he shifts closer - his chest bumping into your back.

Your mind flickering through possibilities, before his voice cuts through.

“Said you need water?”

"Yes. Please," The nod you give is small - you have to start your stirring over, losing your rhythm, "I saw a few cartons in the kitchen. If you don't mind."

"Polite little thing, when you're distracted," He husks, "I'll have to remember that."

The Ghoul makes no effort to move, though. Fingers wrapping around the glass. His other hand gripping the edge of the table, boxing you in. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest, eyes fixed firmly on your work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”

It takes you a second to answer - he’d had never offered many questions. Responses that were no more than a couple of words, over the stretch of long hours on the road.

“Uh, my Vault. We were short on hands, my mother was a chemist.” Your words are slow - a still-painful topic, “Used to make all kinds of stuff. Medicine and… and chems, alike.”

People who left were always brought back. Dazed and half-sick from the world above, whatever they had seen. Left at your doorstep to be patched up, if they made it that long.

You always told yourself that wouldn’t be you.

That when you were gone, you’d stay that way.

“Hm.” His tone flattens, “Wouldn’t have guessed. Don’t seem the type.”

“Yeah?” You head turns, catching his shadowed ones. Leaning into the welcome diversion, “What type do I seem like, then?”

The Ghoul’s eyes narrow, an unconscious flick down to your mouth.

“Trouble.” He husks, with a shallow roll of his hips. You can’t help the short inhale that he’s certain to hear, the way your fingers tighten around your instruments.

“Though I’m still workin’ out what kind.”

It’s there that he leaves you. Flustered and silently revisiting evenings before, a familiar anticipation curling low inside you.

The steps creak behind you as he slips upstairs. Returning some time later with what you need - twirling a dented pot found in the kitchen, so you can purify it. Folding himself onto the couch when you tell him it will be a while.

A cut glass decanter salvaged as well, that he drinks directly from. A rough gasp as the bitter alcohol floods through him. Helping himself to the chems that litter the tabletop - before his feet kick up, the hat tipped low over his face.

You think he does rest - a rarity.

You examine him then - as you wait for the water to boil, and then cool, before you can use it to mix with the other components.

Taking the rare chance to do it freely.

In the Wasteland you’ve learned to stay cautious. That you can’t fall behind. That surely he would notice, if your gaze lingered on him for too long.

But here, time seems to slow for a moment. Nothing to do but wait, as your fingers drift to your neck. Pressing into the bruise, as if you could feel the indents of his teeth.

His presence feels the same.

A mark left on you. Something you can’t help but want to touch, even if it aches. A reminder that lingers, and there’s a part of you that wishes it would stay.

It has you wondering, as your eyes sweep across him. Over the long-faded clothes, hiding rough and reddened skin - every inch of him wrapped away.

If you got close enough-

Would you find that he bore a mark of his own?

You make enough for a little over two weeks. Carefully poured and sealed into a variety of small bottles and tubes you’ve scavenged, scraping out every last bit that you can.

In the less-than-stellar conditions, it didn’t turn out so bad. The vials you had seen him buy was a thin, piss-yellow that had made you cringe. Poor work to begin with, and that was even before it was cut with more water.

What you offer out to him is thick - a sheen clinging to the glass as it sloshes, when it passes from your hand to his.

Liquid gold, in comparison.

“Mm.” The Ghoul hums - eyes greedy, as he examines, holding it up to the bit of light.

Before they’re focusing on you. Flickering from head to toe - considering - before his legs spread a bit wider. A hand clapping down against a thigh.

The look you give him is blank. A squeak when his fingers hook around one of your belt loops and pulls - hauling you onto his lap.

“You think I’m just gonna take somethin’ you cooked up?” His brow lifts, hands pinching against your hips, “Not a chance, sweetie. I think we oughta try this together.”

The Ghoul’s fingers slip up then, rucking up the hem of your shirt. His tone turning knowing.

“And I don’t think you’ve got enough in you.”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuation. More than aware, your breath catching as the rough tips of his leather gloves drag across your skin.

“Bet I’ve been leakin’ out of you since last time.” The Ghoul rasps, “Wouldn’t want to waste this, would we?”

He’s solid beneath you. Your thighs splitting on either side of his waist, knees digging into old cushions. Close enough to kiss - if you weren’t so certain he’d bite.

Lost though, on how to proceed. You don’t know the rules to his game. Always keeping you at arms-length - wrists bound, caught in his grip.

Would he let you touch him?

He mistakes your hesitance, his brow pinching.

“Spent enough time starin’. Lookin’ like you wanted to take a ride.” Acid slips into his tone, teeth bared, “Change your mind, now you’ve got a front row seat?”

That knocks you out of your thoughts - embarrassed that you were caught staring at him. Annoyed by his assumption. A scoff, as your hips start to move, a slow roll. Hands coming up to rest against his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

They’re pretty, like the rest of him. Shades of light brown - looking like they’re caught the sun, even underground. Thick lashes, above the deep hollow of sunken eye sockets, the split cavern of his missing nose.

Something that had startled you, the first time you saw him. Now, you hardly even notice. And his mouth -

“I’m not scared of you.” You murmur, watching the way his lip curls in a sneer. A soft sound bitten back as you grind down, feeling how he’s stiff beneath you.

You wonder how long he’s been this way. Hard, from watching you work. Waiting.

Another exchange, though you wish you could tell him it doesn’t have to be that way. You had meant what you said, when you had made your offer - even if you mean it a little differently, now.

Maybe you still could.

“You should be,” The Ghoul growls - hands ghosting over your sides, up to the thin cotton, “If you had any goddamn sense. Letting me touch you like this-”

A hand is cupping your breast now. A hard swipe of his thumb against your stiff peak, your fingers biting down into his jacket.

Your hips jerk against his. A soft moan, when the seam of your pants catches against your clit - leaving you clenching around nothing.

“I want you to.” You confess - catching the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, “Told you, whatever you want.”

The Ghoul makes a rough sound in his throat, watching as you tug the cups down to fit beneath your breasts, putting yourself on display for him.

“Haven’t learned, have you?” He warns, his voice low, “Don’t make an offer you can’t follow through on.”

The pinch of his fingers sends an ache down to settle between your thighs, the hint of pain pairing with your pleasure.

Your own hand wandering, wanting to see more. Sliding against a leather vest, the stained shirt beneath that was once as blue as your suit. Frayed, looping embroidery on the faded collar.

Feeling the warmth of his skin as you tug at the snap at his throat. An inch, and then another, before he’s catching your hand.

Dragging it up to his shoulders, fixing you with a look, “You best keep those right here.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You ask, eyes flicking down to the peek of skin at his throat.

“I want these off.” He tells you instead, snapping the waistband of your pants against skin.

You have to leave him to do it. Watching the way his arms stretch across the back of the sofa, as you kick the pants off, then your underwear beneath.

Bare again, as you settle. Fitting yourself against the curve of his cock. Leather and metal kissing your skin as you move against him, until his lips are parted with a ragged breath.

You can feel your muscles clench. The slick slide of your pussy against his bulge, barely nudging at that deep-seated ache to be filled.

“Makin’ a mess, sweetheart.” He husks, his hips lifting to meet yours. Gloved hands moving to curl around your waist - pulling you down to meet him, coaxing a lazy rhythm from you.

“Rubbin’ up against me like a bitch in heat. Should make you clean that up.”

It coaxes a whine from you, as you let him move you. The sound does something to you - the layered approval in his tone, the low rasp of his voice. Not so unaffected as he seems, with how hard he is beneath you.

He must see it in your expression, a hand leaving the couch to grasp at your chin. Flexing up and into you, letting you feel the hard ridge of him.

“This what you want, sweetheart?”

Making you meet his gaze, as you answer. All dark eyes and the flash of teeth, under the brim of his hat.

“Yes.” You keen, “I need you, please-”

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

The hand leaves your chin to drop down. Slowly loosening a belt buckle, letting it pool on the cushions. Your cheeks heating when you see the slick shine to the front of his pants, where you’ve rutted yourself against him.

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out,” His eyes are on yours - your breath short as he tugs the zipper down. “Gettin’ you clothes.”

A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

You moan at that, a soft sound caught behind your teeth - fingers pinching into his shoulders.

Waiting for him to draw his cock out - fist wrapped around the base. Flushed and thick in his palm, inches away from where you need him.

The Ghoul does grin then, a wicked thing that shows his teeth.

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

He’s giving you an inch - seeing if you’ll try to take a mile. A firm handle, still wrapped around a fist, but loosening the reins.

Letting himself watch.

“Seems fair.” You manage, breathless.

“Then go on,” He husks, “Show me how you can take it.”

Your hand reaches down, but then he’s clicking his tongue - fingers fixing back on his shoulders.

Leaving you to lift your hips. His cock slipping against your slick core, your teeth biting into your lip as you line yourself up - the rough head catching at your entrance.

It’s different this time. Sinking down on him, feeling each inch as it splits you open - instead of suddenly filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” You sigh, with the stretch. It twinges deep inside you, where his hips fit against yours.

Lifting yourself only to sink back down, his arms flexing beneath his coat as he lets you ride him, your pace slowly picking up until you’re bouncing on his cock.

As much as you enjoyed last time, there was something about this. Fully able to watch the way his lips part, hear the rattling groan when you tighten around him.

See the way his eyes skate across the bruise on your neck, only to drop down to watch the sway of your tits as your fingers lace behind his neck.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His hand flattens against the small of your back. The other gripping your hip, tugging you towards him, “You sure know how to ride.”

Not giving you time to answer, before his head is dipping. The brim of his hat knocking back when it hits your chin - the tips of your fingers just catching it. Slipping it on your own head for safekeeping before he can protest.

It earns you a sharp nip against the curve of your breast, before his lips close around the tight peak of a nipple and sucks.

You cry out, chasing the pressure that builds in your belly. Growing even more wet with the slick swirl of his tongue and the scrape of teeth - his cock grinding against a spongy spot inside you as you arch into his mouth.

“Please,” You whine, fingers flexing and then curling. Needing more friction against your clit, where your heartbeat has dropped and settled.

Trying so hard to listen, a whine between your gritted teeth. Your tits glossy with spit when he leans back, giving you a knowing look.

“You wanna come?” He husks - his eyes dropping, as you nod, “Only if you lean back and show me, sweetheart.”

Relief sings in you, as you adjust. Thighs spreading, as you grip onto his shoulder. Leaning back until he can watch the way he spears into you. How he shines, all slicked up, with each roll of your hips.

Your other hand loses its grip in his coat to slip down, press where your bodies meet.

Fingertips circle, a low moan at the much-needed touch. Your rhythm grows sloppy until his hands hook beneath your thighs. Guiding you into a harsh rhythm, each pound of his cock winding you higher and higher as the couch creaks beneath you.

“Come on, cowpoke.” He rasps, his hand cracking down against your ass, “Is that the best you can do?”

It builds - your fingers pressing harder against the slick bud. Whimpered noises that are more sound than words, as his thighs spread, feet planting so he can drive up into you.

“I said come on.” He growls, “Wanna feel you come on my cock again.”

Like before, it feels like the control slips through your fingers. Your own touch brings you close to that edge, but it’s the pounding of his cock that makes you fall.

Your back arching, crying out as your core clenches. Pleasure bursting deep inside you, racing up your spine and down to the tips of your fingers and pointed toes.

The quick thrust slowa into a lazy grind. A low “atta girl” that he grits out, as he feels the way you come hard around him.

Eyes dropping from your face to watch the greedy press of your fingers as you draw it out - until his own hand is wrapping around your wrist.

Tugging your hand away as the pleasure still courses inside you, hips still chasing the last ripples as you ride his cock.

Bringing your fingers to his mouth. Fitting them against teeth and tongue as his lips close around, tasting the slick that clings to them.

It makes goosebumps raise on your skin. The briefest thrill of fear. Certain that if you pulled your fingers free right now, the flesh and muscle would peel from you - leaving only bones behind.

He groans loudly around them, teeth indenting your skin. Tongue swirling against your knuckles, his hips rocking up to meet yours.

Freeing you, only to grasp at your hips - urging you to move faster. A loud slap of skin until his jaw is clenching - and he’s bringing you down once more against him with a rough sound.

Coming inside you again, but this time you get to see the way his head tips back with his snarl. How his fingers bite into your skin as you feel him throb - throat bared as he spills deep inside you with each rough jerk of his hips.

A flare of something flicking to life in your belly, knowing you did this to him. The groan he made when he tasted you echoing in your mind, giving you something to keep.

You make to move when he goes still, but a hand grips at your hip - holding you in place. Keeping you full of him, as the afterglow still glitters in your veins.

His eyes are dark, fixed on you. Taking in your shadowed, half-lidded gaze - sweat-dewed and bare skinned against him. His hat, still perched on your head. Looking like it belongs there.

A hand digs around in his bag. Pulling out the inhaler for his serum. Snapping it together without his gaze leaving you.

Bringing it to his mouth after - sucking in a deep, held breath. Those eyes closing with a low, contented groan.

A broad hand slips from your hip to splay across the back of your neck, fingers digging into your throat. Pulling you down to him - just as his head tilts to press his lips against yours.

Just as you soften, he exhales - the RadAway flooding through your parted lips. A stinging, metallic taste of iodine that makes you shudder, before you realize he’s deepening the kiss.

You lean into it without thought. The ache in your gums fading with the brush of his tongue. His grip anchoring you in place as he takes, licking into your mouth while his cock still fills you.

Leaving you breathless. Letting him, as your own arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him close. Meeting the messy scrape of teeth and swirl of tongue. The sharp taste fading, layered with the whisky and a hint of you that still lingers.

Before he’s pulling back far too soon, eyes dark as he pants.

“Fuck.” He rasps - his tongue tasting where yours had been, flicking across a lower lip. Before he’s looking at the inhaler - shaking it for another use.

“Looks like I might just have to keep you around.”

You make what you can with the rest of the supplies afterward - waste not, want not. An extra stimpak. Swiping the rest of the mentats, keeping the grape and berry ones for yourself. Refilling your canteen with more of the purified water.

The rest of the chems you gather - packing them in a tin. Tossing them his way, a low whistle when he sees what’s inside.

It’s late enough that the Ghoul decides it’s best to stay here, and leave at dawn. Certain that he will catch up to the bounty tomorrow, already sure of two places where he might be offloading the stolen wares.

You don’t mind. The uneasy thought of sleeping in a house with corpses quickly overshadowed by the real mattresses waiting in the basement. Stained but there’s still bedding - patched up blankets.

A fire, that he coaxes to life in the fireplace upstairs. Dinner, roasting over it.

It almost feels like something. A moment you can play pretend - that these walls will keep you safe.

That maybe you could clean it up.

That maybe he didn’t despise you, and maybe he’d want to stay.

It’s a foolish thought, a sigh as you push it from you. Digging a spoon into the rusted can of Pork ‘N Beans you had scavenged - not trusting the look of the skewer he had been tending.

A thumb running across your lower lip, as you chew. Remember how his had felt. Examining the angry marks pressed into your knuckles.

His shadow crosses over you, then - you have to crane your neck up to see him. His hat back where it belongs, much like your own clothes.

The tilt of his head, as he considers you again. Before his hand is slipping into the bag that slings across his shoulder.

Gloved fingers curling around something - tossing it silently into your lap, before he’s disappearing upstairs to finish his sweep of the house.

It’s golden, in the light of the fireplace. Seems like he’s already done a little looting of his own. A rolled up bag, the tube and needle tucked inside.

And a bottle of the RadAway you made for him.

save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that 🤠💖 (thank you so much for reading! would love to know what you thought if you enjoyed!)

#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

470 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 24 days

Note

Could you continue on the moon water x pregnant reader, where she’s further along? And how the boys react, like who’s more protective Remus or regulus? Who’s doing all the cooking? Just a cut little domestic fic

Also I love all of your work!!

THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING I TOTALLY DIDN'T HAVE THIS DRAFTED UP IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE LAST ONE....THAT WOULD BE EMBARRASSING LOL thanks though I love this little dynamic so friggen much

poly!moonwater x pregnant!reader who's in her first trimester

You learned a lot about yourself and both of your boyfriends throughout the first trimester of your pregnancy.

Though you had always known that both Remus and Regulus were prone to worrying, you learned that they both had very different methods of worrying over you.

Regulus was what you called a fusser. He was constantly fussing over you. Adding extra servings to your plate unprompted. Running out the night he found out you were pregnant to buy prenatal vitamins and potions (muggle and magical), which he served to you each morning himself so that he knew that you were taking them. No one was allowed to use the loo attached to your bedroom, as that toilet was deemed the vomit toilet, which he disinfected twice a day in case you needed to ‘rest your poor beautiful face on it’ as was often the case. He insisted you stay bundled, almost forcing extra layers on you before you stepped outside. And he insisted you begin pelvic floor exercises immediately.

Remus was what you called a coddler. He was always hovering over you at the off chance you might need something at that exact moment. “Are you comfortable, dovey?” “Do you need anything?” “Are you thirsty?” “Did Regulus upset you?” “Do you want me to rub your feet?” “Do you want me to call you in at work?” “Why don’t we go take a nap, hm?” “Have you drank enough water today?” and so on and so forth.

What you learned about yourself during the first trimester of your pregnancy?

You hated being fussed over.

“Regulus Black, I am full.” You pressed, shooting your boyfriend a stern glare where he stood beside you, serving spoon hovering in the air from his attempt at putting more on your plate.

“Amour, I don’t think you’ve had enough to eat today. You’re eat-”

“For two, she knows. Bubs, she full named you, I’d cut your losses if I were you.” Remus stage whispered to Regulus, shooting you a sympathetic albeit concerned glance.

Regulus looked distressed as he awkwardly hovered at your side, seemingly trying to decide between surrendering or pushing his point.

“Maybe just-”

“Full!” You shrilled, standing from the table and storming off towards the entrance. You pulled on a pair of shoes and your jacket before grabbing your car keys and heading for the door when you noticed movement in your periphery.

“Regulus I swear to gods, if you come over here with another jacket I will set you on fire.”

Without missing a beat he turned on his heel and disappeared back from whence he came - one of your jackets still firm in his grasp.

Regulus, Remus, and James all gawked at you when you told them you wanted to buy a car. You were a witch, you could get anywhere in seconds with a flick of your wand, a portkey, or a handful of floo powder.

Lily understood the contentment that came with going for a drive once in a while, but your biggest supporter had been Sirius. He loved almost nothing more in this world than the way he loved his motorcycle.

He had insisted on accompanying you car shopping, and whilst he teased you to no end for not choosing the flashiest car available to waste Regulus’ inheritance on, you were happy with your purchase.

You were also beginning to wonder if portkey and apparition was a safe way to travel now-a-days, what with your pregnancy and all.

You’d driven for maybe all of twenty minutes before you were parked back outside of your flat, staring at the navy painted door.

You felt ridiculous for getting upset. It’s not even like this behaviour of theirs was new, though it was perhaps heightened on account of your growing family.

You hated drawing attention to it - not one to minimise your own feelings - but you also supposed you were feeling… extra sensitive lately on account of the…hormones.

You suddenly felt teary; Regulus was being so thoughtful; you haven’t once had to think or worry about, well, almost anything. He ensured you had everything you needed, and you never even had to ask for it.

And Remus was always close by to ensure you never wanted for anything, willing to drop whatever he was doing on a sickle to serve you.

Fuck, they were saints, you were awful.

Feeling thoroughly ashamed of yourself, you got out of your car and made your way to the flat, shucking off your jacket and shoes before moving down the hall to the living room.

Regulus snapped his head in your direction immediately, whilst Remus smirked to himself and calmly placed a scrap of paper in his book to mark his spot.

“Amour, I-”

“I’m so sorry, Reggie.” You whimpered, causing Regulus to deflate and his face to fall in misery.

“No, darling, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He insisted as he moved to envelop you in his arms.

“I was awful.” You muttered into his chest causing him to chuckle.

“You were not awful; you were really quite reasonable.”

“I was mean.”

“Amour,” he pressed more seriously, pulling away from you and forcing you to make eye contact with him. “When I broke my heel and was stuck in that cast for weeks, what did I say to Rem when he was fussing over me?”

You chuckled slightly as you looked over to Remus, noticing him roll his eyes fondly at the memory.

“You told him to go fuck a cactus.”

Regulus looked at you with an expression of pride. “I told him to go fuck a cactus.” He agreed dreamily.

“Dove, even if it doesn’t always feel like it, you’re working awfully hard right now. You’re going to be tired, perhaps a little irritable, and it is more than fair for you to tell us to back off, yeah?”

You pushed your face back into regulus’ chest as you felt your sinuses fill painfully.

“Yeah.” You whimpered back pathetically.

Remus made an equally pathetic cooing sound and moved to stand behind Regulus, wrapping his arms around the both of you.

“Probably doesn’t help to have two of the most overbearing partners, hm?” He asked as he rubbed circles into your back.

“You’re not overbearing.” You argued.

“No?” Regulus asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. “What are we?”

“Lovely.”

“Dove? Are you crying?”

“……no”

“Why are you crying, amour?”

“Because I’m pregnant and you’re lovely.” You whined.

They both chuckled at you and the three of you stood in each other's embrace.

As was usually the case, Regulus was the first to break the silence.

“I really would feel better if you ate a little bit more tonight, amour. Can I get you anything, anything at all?”

You suppressed a groan and thought really, really hard about it. You supposed you were a little peckish, and if you didn’t eat now - you’d surely be hungry by the time you got into bed.

“Can we have fast food?”

Regulus let out a sigh of relief and Remus barked a laugh.

“You know, I was sort of hoping you’d suggest that, Dovey. I’ve been dying for some curly fries.”

With nothing more said, Regulus went and grabbed two jackets for you, tossing you the car keys and asking if you were in the mood for a drive to look at the city lights.

You sat parked in a turn-off facing a bridge and overlooking the Thames, watching the lights of cars, planes, and boats dancing along the water in your view.

Though both boys had been nothing but supportive of you and your pregnancy, you knew that they both had some worries and fears that only their brother and best friend could pacify.

“We should probably tell the others soon.” You admitted finally.

If you didn’t know better, you’d have assumed the silence in the car meant that you actually hadn’t said anything out loud at all.

You did know better, though, and it was the way Regulus’ spoon paused halfway between his ice cream and his mouth that assured you he had, indeed, heard you.

“Really?” Remus asked first, breaking the silence and rebooting Regulus’ hard drive as he finally brought the spoon to his mouth.

“Yeah, I think it would be helpful, for all of us really. I mean, James and Lily have done this before, and Sirius would be very enthused.” You explained.

The three of you had decided to play it safe and wait until the end of the first trimester to start telling anyone, with this being your first pregnancy and all.

You knew, though, that if you weren’t already starting to show (the boys insisted you weren’t, but you think they were just trying to appease you), you would be very soon.

Regulus finally hummed and plopped his spoon into his now empty ice cream cup.

“Or,” He started, keeping his eyes trained on the scenery in front of him. “We could pack up, change our names and move to Switzerland.”

His suggestion was met with silence (and unimpressed looks from both his partners that he didn’t bother to look at himself), causing him to groan and sink further into his seat.

“Fine. But you have to deal with Sirius’ insufferable excitement.” He pouted, though he couldn’t hide the soft blush adorning his cheeks and the little smile gracing his lips.

“Your options are Sirius or James, bubs.” Remus chuckled.

“I still don’t see why Switzerland’s not on the table.” Regulus countered, earning him a pinch in his ribs from Remus.

You picked the right ones, you thought; you had the best family to bring your little one into.

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moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

Hii! First off, I love your writing!

Could i request poly!marauders x reader who normally is very upbeat/sunshine-y but is feeling down and is really overwhelmed by school (like homwork or exams or smth) and they comfort her and help her study?

Don't worry if you don't wanna do it it is just an idea that popped in my head<3

Thanks for requesting!! Here you go sweetness <3

poly!marauders x (overwhelmed)sunshine!reader ♡ 998 words

“Hi, dovey.” Remus drops a kiss on your head as he comes to perch on the edge of James’ bed. You’re probably the most concentrated he’s ever seen you, lasered in on your homework as James pouts beside you.

“Hey,” you say, and from anyone else your reply might sound normal, but Remus stops short. There’s none of your usual animation in your voice, no “how’s your day going, handsome?” and no jumping up to wrap your arms around his neck. From his own bed, Sirius shoots Remus a look. He’s noticed, too.

“How’s your day going?” he asks probingly.

“Good.”

Remus nearly flinches, not that your tone is sharp. But it feels limp and lifeless compared to what he’s come to expect from you. He wants desperately to set you right, and from James and Sirius’ distressed expressions they feel much the same, but they’re in uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how to deal with you when you’re not your usual upbeat self.

Remus decides on a roundabout tactic. “Everything alright, Prongs?”

James looks at him with giant, long-lashed eyes. “Y/N doesn’t want to go on a picnic.”

Your eyes dart to James momentarily, and Remus thinks something like regret flashes across your face, but then your attention is back on your work. Sirius cocks his head as he watches you, trying to figure you out. Remus hopes he’s doing a better job than he is right now.

You reach up to pet James’ hair absentmindedly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I just don’t have time today.”

“It’s only going to be nice outside for so long,” James whines.

Your sigh is deep and tired, and Remus feels like all the air goes out of his lungs with it, a dull ache blossoming in his sternum. “I’m sorry,” you say again.

“Maybe we can all go tomorrow,” Remus says placatingly, reaching behind you to rub James’ shoulder. You don’t say anything, but he sees doubt and guilt flit in quick succession across your expression. “What’re you working on there, love?”

“Charms.”

“Isn’t that due today?”

“Mhm.”

“Dove.” He infuses his voice with some sternness, and it works; you look up. “Why are you doing that so last minute?”

Remus is used to everything moving fast when it comes to you. You’re a sprightly thing. You’re there one second, gone the next; your smile sparks to life quicker than he can blink; your kisses are enthusiastic and rapid-fire, little pecks all over his face. But he isn’t expecting it, the way your eyes are looking at him dully, and an instant later they’re full of tears.

Your voice comes out choked, and Sirius leans forward in his chair almost instinctively, like he’s lunging for you. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, darling?” Remus asks gently, cupping your face. You won’t let yourself lean into it like you usually do, but a tear escapes your eye, racing down your cheek where Remus catches it with his thumb. “Are you having trouble studying?”

“I’m not—” Another tear follows the first, and you swipe at it, shaking your head with a high-pitched laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius says, voice uncharacteristically soft. He looks as pained as Remus feels, at a loss for how you like to be treated when you’re upset. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I just can’t do it all as easily as you guys.” The words seem torn from you, each more scratched and fragile than the last. “I can’t keep up.”

Remus wants to ask again: What do you mean? but he holds his tongue.

“I don’t get this.” You shove at the paper in front of you as if it will go away. “I’m not good at essays and I can’t keep track of what we’re doing in class. I’ve never had a problem before so I don’t understand why—” you take in a gasping, ragged lungful of air, and the sound tears at Remus’ heartstrings “—why all of a sudden I feel so dumb.”

“Whoa, hey.” James takes your homework off your lap, pulling you in for a hug. “You’re not dumb, angel. Everyone has trouble keeping up sometimes. It’s a busy time of year, yeah?”

“It is,” Sirius confirms. “Flitwick seems to have forgotten we have other classes, with all he’s been assigning lately. And the potions essay due next week has been kicking my ass.”

“Mine too,” you say miserably into James’ chest.

“Is this why you’ve been so quiet lately?” James asks, his hand stroking a path down your spine and back up again. “How long have you been this overwhelmed?”

“I don’t know.” Your sigh is muffled by his shirt. “Since last week, I guess.”

“Dove, you’ve got to be exhausted.” Remus shakes his head, stunned you’ve let this go on so long and vexed with himself for not realizing. “Take some time to rest. We’ll help you study when you’re ready to start again.”

You turn around in James’ arms with a sniffle, your eyes red-rimmed but your features a bit less tense than they had been. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. You guys have your own homework, you shouldn’t waste your time helping me with mine.”

James laughs, giving you a firm shake by the shoulder. “We don’t mind, silly. A lot of it’s the same stuff, we can just talk through it together.”

“Yeah?” you look at him hopefully, and Remus is more relieved than he’ll ever admit when he notices some of the brightness coming back to your expression.

“Uh, yeah.” Sirius says, the duh implicit. “Honestly, sunshine, if you think any time spent with you is wasted, you’re more sleep-deprived than I thought. To bed with you.”

You grin, but do as he tells you, laying your head down on James’ pillow.

“Thanks,” you tell Remus as he lays a throw over you. “I really appreciate the help.”

Remus smiles at you, his sunny-faced girl restored. “Anytime, dove.”

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lyjen · 3 months

Text

North west corner

Summary: When the 118 gets to a factory fire, Evan and (Y/n) get stuck in side of the building. Revealing quite a surprise.

The team 118 was spread over the three rigs they owned, there was engine, ladder and the ambulance 118. Hen and Chimney were in the ambulance, while Bobby, Buck, Eddie and (Y/n) were in the ladder rig.

They were just on their way back to the firehouse as dispatch tried to connect with them. “Engine 118, ladder 118 and ambulance 118, Factory fire at 4545 West Caroll.” Sounded through the radio they had pinned to their chests.

As soon as they received the message, they grabbed their headsets and put them on their heads. And the ladder’s truck sirens were switched to on. Eddie was talking with Buck about some new restaurant down town. Meanwhile, (Y/n) was staring outside the window.

She wasn’t completely present. She had been feeling nauseous this morning, she couldn’t keep anything down. So she was basically performing on an empty stomach.

Completely lost in thought she flinched when her boyfriend who was sitting next to her, patted his hand on her knee to get her attention. She didn’t notice Evan asked her a question. A worried look spread on his face. “Huh?” Came out of her mouth. Evan’s hand was now rubbing up and down on her thigh.

“I asked if you were feeling okay?” (Y/n) nodded. “Yeah… Yeah I’m fine, just daydreaming” she answered him with a slight smile. While (Y/n) received another confused look from her brother who sat diagonally across from Evan. “Are you sure?” Eddie jumped in. The only thing (Y/n) was nod, and continued watching the streets they went rushing by. Brushing off the worried looks of her boyfriend and brother.

She was fine. They didn’t need to worry about her, just a little nausea wouldn’t hurt a soul. Am I right?

(Y/n) felt how the ladder truck came to a stop. Eddie went out on one side of the truck, and (Y/n) hopped out on the other side. She felt how Evan followed her steps. Both his hands resting on her shoulders as he jumped out of the vehicle. Evan took place next to her, putting his arm around her.

He closed the distance between them, his mouth moving towards her ear. “If there is something wrong, you know you can tell me. Right?” He whispered quietly. She nodded. “There’s nothing wrong.” she continued. And planted a kiss on his cheek and walked out of his grip.

As she was walking forward, she saw multiple victims running out of the building. Watching how the flames took over the factory building.

Bobby stood in front of his team, ready to shout orders. Evan and (Y/n) joined the group of firefighters. “Okay! Dispatch said there are still some trapped workers inside, they didn’t say how much. But I don’t like this smoke, so get a hose line in there. Be quick on this one, I’m saying four minutes tops! Hen, Chim, set up triage! Eddie, Buck, (Y/n), you go get those workers out of there! Let’s go!” Bobby’s voice tried to reach his crew. “On it cap!”

The ladder team opened up the compartment where they storaged the tanks, got them out and put them on their back. (Y/n) felt a feeling of discomfort crawling in her arms when she put on the tank on her back, but she ignored it. Maybe it was just a pulled muscle, a wrong movement she made.

Evan took a moment to take a glance at his girlfriend, he knows something is wrong. He could tell, she hadn’t been eating all day and she was absent. Those weren’t things she did on the regular basis. For now, he’d let it slide, they had to get inside to get the last victims out of that building. Hurriedly Evan put his mask on like the others and walked towards the entrance of the building.

When they got in the building, flames were literally everywhere. The flames were surrounding them. “LAFD! Call out!” They tried to call through their masks while also trying to get above the sound of the fire.

Repeatedly they called out that familiar sentence. Waiting for someone to respond while they did a quick sweep. They only had 4 minutes, that’s how much they got from Bobby. In one of the halls, they found one of the missing workers. The man was covered in ashes, and coughing as he couldn’t breathe through the thickness of the smoke. “Hey over here!” Buck called out as he was the first one to discover the man.

Evan lowered down to help the man stand on his own two feet. Eddie stopped him. “I got him! You two go look for others!” Eddie spoke as he took over the injured man from Evan. Eddie slung the man’s arm over his shoulder, giving him the support he needed and tried to make his way back out of the burning building. “Chim, Hen, I’m coming out with one victim!” Eddie spoke through his radio.

Eddie walked through the exit, what was also the entrance of the building. He handed the man over to Hen, so she could check him out and give him the treatment he needed.

Evan and (Y/n) tried to sweep the level for more injured employees. Although (Y/n) was in a burning building, she had a cold sweat dripping over her face and over her back. Her vision went blurry, but she tried to blink it away and follow Evan’s shadow. It could be the lack of energy, she didn’t eat all day. That could be the reason, right?

They entered an office, Buck entered first, searching the office. As (Y/n) tried to steady herself on the doorframe of the office. Trying to catch her breath. Her vision didn’t change. She was still sweating and her breaths became more rapid. She felt like she had run a marathon, but all she did was sweep the building together with her boyfriend. “LAFD! Call out!” Evan’s voice filled her eardrums again.

Bobby was outside, trying to estimate the situation “I don’t like this smoke! I want all firefighters to evacuate the building immediately!” Bobby called through his radio as he sees big clouds of dark grey smoke come out of the factory.

Buck searches the last part of the office, and made up his conclusion. “No one here, we’re coming out now!” Buck called through his radio. Buck turns on his heels, and saw his girlfriend standing in the doorway. “Come on let’s go!” He tried to motivate her.

She felt weak as if every piece of energy was sucked out of her in that little time. Her eyelids were becoming heavy, it took to many energy to keep her eyes open. She really tried to keep herself awake. But she couldn’t. Her heartbeat was ringing in her ears, together with her breathing.

Her knees buckled and she fell down on the floor. Letting gravity doing its work and pull her down to the ground.

“(Y/n)!” he yells out. He couldn’t even notice wat was happening.

He rushes towards his girlfriend and let himself flop down next to her side. “(Y/n)?? (Y/n)??” He panics. He doesn’t know what to do. His hand fell onto his radio, “Mayday, mayday! Firefighter down! I repeat firefighter down!” Buck sounded through the radio.

“Buck what’s going on?” He heard Eddie ask on the radio, his voice was full of worry. Eddie knew that the only firefighter who could be down, was (Y/n) since Evan was the one to speak through the radio. They both were the last ones to pull out of the building. The rest of the team was already outside of the building waiting for orders from the captain.

“Buck?!” Eddie repeated over the radio, almost crushing his radio with his bare hand. Evan put two of his fingers in her neck, and tried to search for her pulse. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t find her damn pulse. With trembling hands he reached out to his radio, and clicked in the button they used to speak. “I.. I think she’s having a heart attack” he spoke through the radio.

Eddie’s eyes went wide as he heard Evan’s response. He looked at Bobby. “What’s your location Buck?” Bobby spoke into his radio.

Eddie, who already had put his helmet back on, ready for his sign to go in, looked at Bobby with pain in his eyes. How was it possible that his damn’ sister was having a heart attack? She was twenty two. How does a twenty two year old get a heart attack?

“Bobby we have to get them!” Eddie tried to convince Bobby to let him go in. He was desperate to help his sister. “Eddie Stand down.” Is the only thing what came out of Bobby’s mouth. Bobby couldn’t let Eddie go in that fire hazard. It wasn’t safe.

Evan noticed how the fire came closer to them. “(Y/n)!” He called one more time, desperate to get her awake again. “Shit!” He cursed to himself as his attempt to get her awake again didn’t work. He stood up from (Y/n)’s side, and grabbed the handle they used to get the tanks to sit in place on a back of a person. He put both of his hands on the two straps which were holding the tank of his girlfriend into place. And he dragged her towards the office, which hasn’t caught fire yet.

Another explosion took place in the factory Evan and (Y/n) were in. Evan had to perform CPR, and find a way out. If he waited any longer, he could lose his girlfriend, and his best friend’s sister. “I’m starting CPR now!” He yelled through his radio. Evan didn’t bother to open her florescent jacket, it was too risky. The fire was already coming for them both. He had to do this now, he couldn’t lose more time. Evan locked his fingers together, straightened his elbows and pushed down his hands against (Y/n)’s chest.

“Come on baby, come on!” He tried to motivate her to come back to reality as he continued to push down on her chest. “You’re not allowed to do this (Y/n). You can’t go anywhere.”

Why didn’t Evan notice something sooner, he knew something was wrong. He knew she wasn’t okay and should’ve stopped her as soon as they came on scene.

But now here he was, performing CPR on his own girlfriend in a burning building.

Eddie turned towards Bobby. “Bobby, please you have to let me back in there! That’s my sister!” Tears were welling in his eyes. His heart was pounding as if it tried to break free out of his chest. It almost felt like he was having a heart attack himself.

Bobby gave Eddie a thoughtful look, he was actually considering Eddies request to go back in there. He couldn’t let them die in there. They were his family. And he needed to get them back to safety. The silence was ear deafening. He looked at Chimney and Hen, and then back at Eddie.

“Okay Eddie, let’s go!” Bobby reached out to get an oxygen tank and mask. Bobby put on his gear, as did Eddie. When they were all geared up, they hurried towards the entrance of the building. When another explosion took over the scene. Fire roared in front of the entrance.

Eddie was screaming out so loud, that he couldn’t notice how hard he was screaming. Bobby grabbed his upper arm and pulled him back from the entrance.

Eddie tried to break free of the hold Bobby got him in, he needed to safe his sister and Buck. Tears were leaving his eyes. He didn’t even think it was possible to have that many tears.

Bobby’s hand reached his radio. “Buck, the entrance is blocked. Put her on your shoulder if you have to. But you get the hell out of there, do you hear me!” Bobby ordered Evan.

Evan was putting all of his strength into getting his girlfriend back to life. He was pretty sure he heard and felt a few ribs cracking. He was exhausted. But he couldn’t give up. Tears were rolling down his face.

Buck stopped his compressions when he reached yet another thirty and slumped over her body to try and feel her pulse.

Nothing.

Evan threw off his oxygen mask, and gently took hers off too. His face was covered in ashes, drenched in sweat with a mix of his tears. He put his mouth over hers, and breathed into her lungs 2 times. Normally they wouldn’t do this. They had a rescue breath mask for that. But right now, he had to try this. He wouldn’t stop until he tried everything he could.

“(Y/n), if you can hear me. You have to wake up! And get the hell out that building!” Eddie tried to motivate her, even though she might not be able to hear him.

Evan interlaces his fingers again and put his fists on her chest again. Going for another round of chest compressions. Buck was blinking away the tears that were dripping off his cheeks onto (Y/n)’s florescent jacket. Gasping for breaths as he continued CPR. Meanwhile Buck was scanning the area he was in, trying to figure out how to get the hell out of this hell hole.

He was focusing himself on her chest, counting each push he gave her chest. Evan’s eyes shot to her eyes when he heard a gasp for breath, desperate for oxygen. She coughed as if she wanted her lungs to leave her body. He took his hands off her chest. “Hey! Hey! You’re fine, you’re okay!” Evan trying to reassure her, putting her face between his hands.

With one hand, he grabbed her oxygen mask and put it back on her face. Her chest was hurting from the pressure Evan used to get her back to life.

Evan noticed a door in the back of the office. He was silently hoping it was a staircase with a fire exit.

They had no time to waste. Evan and (Y/n) needed to get the hell out of that building. Evan could tell (Y/n) was too weak to hold herself up. He put back on his own oxygen mask and put his left arm underneath her lower back, his right arm found its way around her thighs and he hoisted her up in his arms.

Buck hurried forward towards the back door in the office. He turned his back to the door, and kicked his leg back to open the door.

Through the door, a beam of daylight welcomed Evan. There was a window. It was a kind of back office. Evan put back a chair with his feet and set (Y/n) down in it for a moment. He ran towards the window and searched around for anything he could smash the window with. But there was nothing usefull, not a damn thing. The room was already filling itself up with dark grey smoke. Evan didn’t have a choice. He had to break the window with his hands. Without thinking, Evan smashed his arm through the glass, immediately breaking the rest of the old window.

“Buck. Status update.” Bobby ordered Evan through his radio. The radio went silent. No answer from Evan nor (Y/n).

“Baby I am sorry, I need to do this.” He told (Y/n) as he fully ignored Bobby through the radio. The flames were already taking over the small walls of the back office.

He grabbed (Y/n)’s right arm with his left arm, lowered himself down and put his right arm around her thighs. And he hoisted (Y/n) over his shoulder as he fast made his way through the window with (Y/n) dangling over his shoulder.

Another explosion took over the building. The roof started to come down, as Evan tightly held (Y/n) in position.

Eddie felt his heart beating in his throat. He was pretty sure he was about to throw up. His eyes were on the entrance of the building as another loud bang sounded through the air. Bobby was trying to get in touch with Evan and (Y/n). “Buck. What’s your status?” Bobby called again through the radio. Nothing but noise from the frequency sounded through the radio.

Eddie stepped back. He put both his hands in his hair and was pretty sure he pulled some strands of hair from his scalp. He looked up at the sky, as he tried to stop the tears from falling down his face.

Bobby tried to radio Buck one more time. “Buck what-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence as he saw movement next to the building. Evan’s broad frame came in to his sight. “Eddie!” Bobby called out when he clearly saw Buck rushing towards them with (Y/n) over his shoulder. Eddie’s eyes shot towards Bobby, and then to the person Bobby was pointing at.

“Chim I need a gurney over here!” Before Bobby could even finish his sentence, Chimney came running down with a gurney with Eddie right behind him. “And get a hose line and water tank on that building!” Bobby continued shouting his orders.

When Evan reached the gurney, he slowly sat (Y/n) down on the gurney. While Bobby tried to take off the oxygen tank off her back, Eddie helped to gently take off her oxygen mask. Evan also took off his mask and let his gloved hand slide over his girlfriend’s cheek while she was coughing. He stepped back to give Chimney the space he needed to examine (Y/n).

Chimney held a light in front of her eyes. Asking her to follow it with her eyes. (Y/n) weakly tried to slap back his hand. “I’m fine” she groaned, and pushed herself up to get off the gurney when her knees buckled again. Eddie catches her just in time before her body met the floor again.

Evan rushed to her other side, next to Eddie. While Eddie and Evan try to push the female firefighter back on the gurney. She tries to push them both back. “Hey! Hey! Hey! (Y/n). Stop. Please.” Evan tries to stop her.

She stopped pushing them both. Evan took a step closer towards his girlfriend who was sitting on the gurney now. He carefully took one of her hands in his. “I know you’re not fine. I knew it from the beginning you stepped out of that ladder truck.” He confessed. He wasn’t that stupid. “I could see it on the look on your face. This past week, you’ve been acting so strange. So please, tell me. What’s going on. A twenty two year old doesn’t get a heart attack just like that.”

A silence fell. (Y/n) her eyes fell down looking at her hands. One of them was holding Evan’s. She squeezed her eyes shut. Trying to avoid the waterfall of tears, that was trying to make its way outside of her tear ducts.

She sighed.

“I’m pregnant Buck, that’s what’s been going on.”

#911 #911 fox #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine #911 abc #eddiediaz #eddie diaz

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thewulf · 3 months

Text

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it. He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Set The World On Fire

Chapter Five

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.2K

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"I still can't believe he's actually taking me on a date," she said as she searched through her wardrobe for something to wear, her phone pressed to her ear.

Although she couldn't see it, her friend rolled her eyes. "Are you sure he's not gonna murder you and ditch your body in a... ditch?" She asked.

Y/N laughed. "I do know the guy. But, if my body is found in a ditch somewhere, you get all of my stuff," she said and pulled a nice top out of the wardrobe. Paired with some nice jeans, she could look pretty good, she thought as she looked in the mirror, holding the top against her body.

"I've got to go," her friend said. "Keep me updated through the date, okay? If he is a murderer, let me know."

They said their goodbyes and Y/N threw her phone onto her bed. She looked at herself in the mirror again, looked at how the top looked against her. Pretty good, she thought. She made light work of getting changed and started on hair and makeup.

At seven o'clock, Lando arrived at her house. His car was incredibly fancy, maybe to the point of overkill. He pulled the classic Porsche up outside of her apartment and climbed out.

Immediately he regretted it. Her neighbourhood wasn't exactly the nicest, he was so sure that somebody would steal it if they came across it.

Pulling his business card from his pocket, he left it on the dash for everybody to see. Just his name alone would scare anybody out of trying to steal it. He straightened his jacket and started up to her apartment.

Lando had the address memorised. He'd been there more than he liked to admit, watching over her apartment. Surely, if she'd lived somewhere a little nicer, he wouldn't be by her apartment every night, watching over her.

Who was he kidding? Lando was enamoured with her. Plus, him watching over her kept his mind off of his sister and it kept him away the club, where he was drinking far too much and doing whatever was dusted over the table.

He sucked in a breath and knocked on her door.

"Coming!" She shouted. She ran through her apartment as she attempted to put her earrings in. With the back of the earring between her lips, she pulled open the door. "Hey," she grinned, placing the back of the earring where it was supposed to be.

"You ready to go?" Asked Lando as he offered her his arm. She grinned and took his arm. Pulling her apartment door shut, she locked it and followed Lando down to his car.

His incredibly expensive classic Porsche.

She let out a low whistle as she stepped out of the apartment building. "Is that yours?" She asked. She knew Lando had serious money. Like, he owned his own strip club! What kind of guy owned his own strip club? Of course he'd have some crazy car.

Lando just offered her a smile as he pulled the door open for her. The car smelt incredible. It was hard to describe, but there was nothing that could beat the smell of a classic car. That mixed with Lando was amazing.

The engine rumbled to life. It sounded like a dream. She let out a low whistle as Lando pulled away from her apartment building, heading further into the city. "Is she yours?" She asked, patting the dashboard.

"My dad's," Lando answered. "But she'll be mine soon, I guess," he muttered under his breath.

"Are you sure you wanna park her in the city?" Asked Y/N, raising her eyebrows at him. "Something might... happen to her."

Lando shook his head. He pulled into a car park and, once again, left his business card on the dashboard before climbing out. "I'm not worried about that," he said and pushed the door shut.

Walking around to the other side, he opened the door for Y/N, took her hand and helped out of the car. "You're a weird guy," she muttered, but she was still wearing a smile.

"Thanks." He linked his hand with hers and led her away from the car park, towards the restaurant. Lando could have booked it out. He had that level of power around here. But he didn't want to scare her off, especially not before she joined him in Spain.

The dinner was rather uneventful. They talked and laughed like this wasn't a date, like they were just in the back room of his club. Lando ordered for the both of them, which she thought was a little strange, but she didn't mind. He had good taste.

(Actually, no. Lando rarely had good taste. His pallet was that of a child. He was putting on a brave face for this date).

"How about we get out of here?" He asked after they had finished the main course. The dessert was incredibly fancy and Lando wanted something less.

She grabbed her bag and reached for her purse. Lando held up his hand, halting her. "It's already been taken care of," He said with a grin.

The look she gave him with sceptical. "You're not like... a mob boss or something, are you?" She asked quickly.

The way Lando's heart was beating, shit he thought he was going to die. But then she laughed and he visibly relaxed. "I paid on the way in," he confessed (it didn't matter that it wasn't true).

They strode out of the cafe, arm in arm. Lando led the way out of the restaurant, towards a dessert shop. It was just around the corner, one that Lando's family owned the building to. He got them two thick milkshakes, incredibly unhealthy and topped with cream.

They sat in the park, drinking their milkshakes. The stars appeared above them and the air turned cold. "Here," Lando said as he took off his jacket and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and pulled it onto her body.

With the sleeves pulled over her hand, she held her milkshake and leaned against Lando. "You paid for everything tonight and I feel shitty," she mumbled against him.

Lando laughed. "Trust me, it's fine," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Just... thank you for agreeing to come to Spain with me next week."

Suddenly she pulled away from him, just enough that she could look at him. "Is this a thank you date, because I agreed to join you in Spain? Or is this a real date because you actually like me?" As nice of a gesture as it was, she didn't do thank you dates. Not when she had already caught feelings.

Lando shook his head. "It's not a thank you date, I swear," he said quickly. "I invited you to Spain because I actually like you. This date sounded like a good way to... start things off," he said.

She couldn't hide her grin. Leaning against him once again, she closed her eyes and let out a content sigh. "So, you could say that Spain will be our second date," she mumbled.

Lando kissed the top of her head.

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casuallyimagining · 3 months

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Family. Duty. Self. || myg

Less of Them - One: Family. Duty. Self.

NSFW. minors dni Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 9,968

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: weaponry (swords), language; nsfw: awkward first-time, hand-job, fingering, unprotected sex

Notes: Thanks to @oddinary4bts for really coming in clutch and helping with the smut and to both her and @daechwitatamic for encouraging me to make it more sad.

The book mc is reading at the beginning is Wurthering Heights.

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

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The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind.

The clank of metal against metal grates against your ears and jolts you out of your book. It’s a nice day, and you had some free time; you thought that maybe it would be nice to read outside for a change. But now, you aren’t sure that was the greatest idea you’d ever had.

…shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully-

The soft thump of a dulled blade hitting the softness of a body and an exasperated curse again draws you away.

“Again,” a gruff voice commands, and there’s the clink of metal clashing briefly.

Another voice groans. “This is pointless.”

“Your father told me to teach you how to fight,” the first voice says. “Again.”

You roll your eyes. They’d been at this for a week now. You were starting to believe that maybe it was pointless.

It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the “missis,” an individual whose existence I had never previously-

Metal against metal once again, and then the clatter of a sword falling into the dirt. A frustrated sigh.

I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me-

A soft thud, then, “Shit.”

I bowed and waited, thinking-

The shriek of metal on metal, then the clatter of a sword hitting the dirt. “Shit!”

I bowed and-

“Take a break,” the gruff voice says, and the second voice grumbles something in response. “Don’t go far. We have more work to do.”

You try to go back to your book, you really do. But then a body plops down under the tree beside you. Ever so gently, the book is taken from your hands. He keeps a finger in the pages to mark where you’d left off, but he turns the book to inspect the cover and the spine. He hums. It’s his book.

“You shouldn’t torture him like that,” you chide once he’s returned the book to your hands. “You know he isn’t suited for it.”

“Your father wants him trained.”

“You and I both know Namjoon has no business on a battlefield.”

At that, he laughs. “His form is really terrible.”

“Even I’m better than he is.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh come on, Yoon.” You roll your eyes and nudge him slightly. You both know you’re right. His father had trained you beside Yoongi, and while you hadn’t been as quick to the blade as the young knight, you could defend yourself well enough.

He stands, plucks the book from your hand once again, and leans in so that his face is mere centimeters from your own. “Come, then, my lady. Prove yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

He closes the gap, lips connecting to yours ever so briefly. Even though the kiss is short, it sets your veins alight all the same.

“Fine,” you say when he pulls back. “To battle, then, Min Yoongi.”

He smirks, and you steal a kiss when he helps you stand. For a moment, he has the audacity to look offended, but you push him out of the way.

“Come on,” you say. “You wanted to spar. Let’s get it over with.”

“We’ll see how smug you are when you’ve been defeated.”

You shrug and follow him to the training yard. It’s only a few feet from the tree you had been reading under, but your back had been to it, and you’d been unable to see Namjoon before he left. Now, though, you can see that your younger brother had gone in a huff, his practice sword tossed carelessly to the side. You pick it up. It’s a bastard sword, longer than you’d like and a little on the heavy side, but it’ll do. You roll your wrist, testing the balance as you wait for Yoongi to ready himself.

As he turns to face you, you widen your stance. You know you look ridiculous, legs and arms wide, positioned better to climb a tree than for sword fighting. It has its intended effect, though, because Yoongi erupts into a fit of near-silent giggles, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What are you doing?” he asks gleefully.

“Are we not fighting?” you question, deepening your voice to match Namjoon’s lower timbre. “Is this not how you do it?”

He almost drops his sword, he laughs so hard. “Okay, fine,” he says, body still shaking from giggles. “You can go back to your book.”

You smile. That hadn’t really been your goal, but you aren’t one to turn down an opportunity. You hand him the practice sword as you pass and open your mouth to leave him with one last quip about trying to be patient with Namjoon, but he catches your waist as soon as he can and pulls you flush against him. Immediately, your hands come up to rest on his chest, playing with the loose collar of his cream colored shirt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask coyly, tugging a little at the fabric over his collarbone.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Can you?”

He kisses you then, properly this time, firm hands on the small of your back, holding you against his body. He’s warm and soft and solid, and you can smell a hint of the cologne you’d bought him for his last birthday. His kiss is slow, almost lazy, but there’s a greed in it, like he could keep at this forever if you’d let him.

You’re tempted to let him.

You slide your hand up his chest to tangle in the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You give a gentle tug, and he lets out a low whine.

“Don’t tease, my lady,” he mumbles darkly, pulling away just far enough to kiss up your jaw. “I’m afraid you’ll start something you aren’t prepared to finish.”

You never get the chance to respond. Namjoon calls your name, his voice floating down from the walkway that overlooks the courtyard. Immediately, Yoongi jumps away from you. Your relationship is no secret, but he’s always been shy, and you’ve long grown used to his fleeing any time anyone sneaks up on you.

Namjoon calls for you again, this time, his voice is closer, and when you turn, you can see he’s running down the stairs. He pauses momentarily, catching his breath for just a second before blurting out, “Father is looking for you. He’s received some official-looking letter and asked me to come fetch you.”

You hum and nod. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be along soon.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’d better come now.”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi, who stands now just off to the side. His cheeks and ears are tinged ever so slightly pink, and he busies himself with inspecting one of the practice blades. He must feel you looking at him, because his dark eyes connect with yours. You shoot him a look that you hope conveys an apology. He nods toward the keep silently before picking up the discarded sword and wandering off in the direction of the armory.

“Lead the way,” you tell your brother, gesturing in the direction he’d come from.

You follow him out of the yard, up the stairs onto the walkway and into the keep. Evening is starting to fall, and the attendants already have the sconces lit in the halls to stave off the darkness. You pass some of them as you go, and they nod respectfully–more to you than to Namjoon, but he’s younger and has never really cared about being deferred to in the way that you are.

He leads you to your father’s study, and when you enter, you’re shocked at how full it is. You’ve always loved this room, filled to the brim with the finely crafted furniture made by the people of the forest town. Blackwood trees are known to have a delicate, earthy aroma long after they’ve been felled, so the study has always smelled as warm and inviting as it felt. Now, though, with the number of eyes that dart in your direction when the door opens, you’re uncomfortable.

The five of them sit at the heavy, ebony round table in the center of the room. Your father sits with his back to the window, his fingers steepled and his brow furrowed, papers strewn about in front of him. To his left sits your step-mother, a rare good day for her. She looks grim, but you get the sense that the pain she’s feeling may not be just her own. Namjoon takes a seat to her right. To your father’s left sits Jaesung, your father’s advisor and head of the armory for as long as you can remember. The look on his face is neutral, but you can see an anger behind his eyes. In nearly 30 years, you’ve never seen Jaesung angry. Beside him sits Seokjin, your elder step-brother, a fidgeting ball of nerves.

“Come,” your father says gently, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

You can feel a chill as you pass them all. Your step-mother, paralyzed by an unknown pain. Jaesung, poised for a war you don’t yet understand. And Seokjin, who refuses to look at you, even as you sit down beside him.

It all makes you nervous.

Your father stands, the chair pushing out behind him as he leans forward, passing you the papers in front of him. It’s a letter, the wax seal on the envelope indicating it was sent from the Ironhold.

A letter from the king, you muse. What could he possibly want?

It’s no secret that there’s little love between your family–the Lins of Castle Blackwood–and the Chois in the Crownlands. The Chois have sat on the throne of Cotaria for hundreds of years, and the seat of the Crownlands for hundreds of years before that, and their customs have been around for just as long. They don’t like how your father rules the Westerlands, but there isn’t much they can do about it. The Lin family is far older and has had far longer to build ties, and you contribute more to the Crown’s stores than the Chois would care to admit.

Your gaze falls to the letter in your hands, reading but not comprehending what it says. You fixate on certain words. Duty. King. Auspicious. Marriage. But no matter how many times you read it, no matter how long you stare at the neatly printed words in front of you, they don’t make sense.

The room is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t like how long it’s been since someone’s said something, don’t like how they watch you. Your mouth is dry, and it feels like you’ve tried to swallow a rock.

“This is real?” you manage, swallowing hard. When did your hands start shaking?

“I’m afraid so,” your father responds. His voice is soft, measured.

“And?”

“We did not ask for this.”

“And yet here we are.”

He sighs. “And yet here we are.”

You close your fist around the paper, crumpling it. Beside you, Seokjin jumps, startled. For the briefest of moments, you close your eyes.

Marriage to the king. A man you’d met once three years ago at his father’s funeral. He’d been miserable then, a spoiled brat too accustomed to getting his own way. You’d dreaded the funeral, dreaded being forced to interact with the young king, dreaded having to be pleasant to him. But you’d plastered on a smile and endured the funeral and feast. And now he wanted to take you away from your home, your family.

Your Yoongi.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to your father’s study. You can’t think of him right now. “This,” you lift your fist, the letter still clutched tightly within. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice,” Namjoon blurts, immediately shrinking back into his chair.

Your father hums. “You can decline. Your brother is right.”

“Jaesung?” The man’s eyes snap to yours, and you’re struck by how similar they are to his son’s–dark, cat-like, ever-observant. “If I say no…?”

He takes a moment, his head bobbing back and forth as he weighs the options. “Chances of retaliation are high, yes.”

“We would weather it,” your father says. “Our family has endured far worse.”

“And if they strip us of our titles? Take away our home?” You toss the letter into the center of the table. “Either way, we lose.”

“So just tell him to fuck off,” Namjoon says. Your step-mother frowns, and immediately, he wilts under her gaze. “Sorry, mother. But you understand what I mean. If both options are bad, pick the best worst choice.”

You glance up, above your father, above the window behind him. The family crest hangs there, centered on the wall. A sea of blue with green chevron, golden thistle in the foreground. The Lin family words are engraved into the bottom: Loyalty does not yield.

Loyalty. It’s been ingrained in you since birth. To family, duty, self. All three in tandem. Now, though, they’re pitted against each other. Your family against your own desires. Your desires against your duty. An impossible choice.

You make eye contact with your father across the table. He nods almost imperceptibly and sighs.

“The steward arrives tomorrow?” you ask softly.

Jaesung nods. “Letter said they would arrive the day after it did.”

“Okay.”

There’s precious little to discuss after that. Jaesung is the first to go, the war in his eyes more fierce than when you’d entered. He doesn’t look at you as he goes. Your stepmother leaves shortly after, walking around the table to you. Her hands find your shoulders, skin cold against yours. She gives a gentle squeeze and kisses the top of your head.

When she’s gone and the door is closed behind her, Namjoon erupts. “You realize how ridiculous this is, right?” he asks. It’s directed toward your father. “They would never dream of doing this to any of the other old families.”

Seokjin sighs. “They couldn’t.” His voice is soft, but holds all the authority of older brother.

Ever insightful, your step-brother is right. The Lin family is the only one of the old families that allows for a female heir, and even then, your father had only married Seokjin and Namjoon’s mother after his first wife–your mother–had died. You’d been here first. In your father’s mind, you were the clear heir. It helps that Seokjin, older than you by one year, has never shown much interest in leading, and between you and Namjoon, you have always been more eager to learn everything. But because all of the other heirs of the old families are male, they will never be put in this position.

You stand. Your head hurts, and so does your heart. You don’t look at your father as you leave the study, too afraid of what you might see.

You’d intended to go to your chambers, but when you get to the staircase, instead of going up, you go down. Yoongi’s chamber is at the end of this wing of the castle, closest to the outer wall and the library tower. Over the years, you’ve probably spent just as much time there as you have in your own chambers. But this is the first time you’ve felt nervous standing at his door.

You knock. You almost never knock, but it feels weird barging in right now, when you’re standing on the precipice of a future so far in the opposite direction of what you’d been imagining. The door opens, and there he is, leaning casually against the heavy, blackwood door. You must be some sort of sight, because almost immediately, he frowns, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“Jagi?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

It’s all it takes. You surge forward, hands coming up to cup his face gently. It’s easy to fall into him, easy to lose yourself in his kiss. He lets you push him back into his room, shutting and locking the door behind you in one easy motion.

He laughs a little as you kiss up his jaw. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You don’t answer. Right now, you just want to lose yourself in him. The room is not large, and you’re able to push him toward the bed in only a few steps. He pauses when his legs hit the edge of the goose feather mattress. Gently, you push and he falls backward, his hands on your waist pulling you down with him.

You hover over him for a moment, just holding his gaze, losing yourself in the dark eyes you’ve come to love so much. You wonder if he’s able to read the distress in your eyes–maybe he is, because he pulls you down in a kiss that leaves your mind spinning, as his hands tighten on your waist ever so slightly.

His tongue hesitantly darts out to meet your lips, and surprised, you pull away to meet his gaze again. His cheeks are slightly flushed pink, and his lips glisten prettily in the light of the sconce on the wall.

You survey his features carefully, feeling your own cheeks turning red as you realize that you don’t want to stop. Not tonight. You want to be able to feel him at least once before you have to go. You bend down again to capture his lips in a languid kiss, welcoming his tongue against your own the moment he does it again.

You gently move your hands up his frame, burying them in his soft hair as he wraps his arms around you to pull you flush against him. You have half a thought that you’ll crush him, but you can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue awkwardly swipes at yours again, earning a breathy sound from you that you’ve never made before.

It startles both you and him, and you pull away from the kiss once more, meeting his gaze.

“What was that?” he asks, the flush on his cheeks having deepened from the prolonged kiss.

You find you can’t look at his eyes anymore, your own gaze sliding away. You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know.”

He kisses your jaw to gain your attention again, but your eyes stubbornly stay away. That is, until he says, “It was cute.”

Your gaze shoots back to his. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me again,” he asks, and there’s something new in his tone. A desire you’ve never really seen, or maybe it’s just manifesting differently this time around.

Maybe he can feel the sense of urgency in the moment. But he doesn’t question you, just welcomes your lips against his the moment you kiss him again, unable to resist the pull of his gravity.

His hands move down your back, and hesitantly, he grazes his fingers over the curve of your ass, barely even touching. You feel electrified, like lightning is coursing through your bloodstream, and you bite on his bottom lip.

He grunts. He grunts and you know that there is no way you’ll stop now. Not when you sit back on his lap, hands resting on his chest to hold you up. Even through his linen shirt, you feel his heart beating wildly, echoing your own.

And right where you’re perched, you feel the hint of his arousal, matching the arousal that’s slowly warming up your core.

You’ve touched each other before. It was awkward, neither of you really knew what you were doing, and you’d stopped, too afraid to get caught, too afraid of the consequences.

Tonight though? You want to feel his skin on yours, want his warm breath to mingle with your own while you lay with him. So you grab his tunic, pushing it up until it reveals a small sliver of pale skin on his lower stomach. You look at it, admire it as if it’s art, and then you meet Yoongi’s gaze again.

“Can you take this off?” you ask, fingers shaking even though your voice holds firm.

He nods, sitting up so that he can remove the shirt. It brings him close to your face, and you can’t resist but kiss him again, molding your lips to his like it was always meant to be.

But not anymore.

You push the thought away, wanting to focus on Yoongi, on this moment with him. You want to commit it to memory, to remember every plane of his body as he finally, slowly takes his shirt off, revealing more of his sculpted frame.

Being a knight has its advantages. And they show in the powerful build of Yoongi’s body, even though he’s a little more on the lean side. You gently rest on your hands on his chest, before gently caressing down, reveling in the feel of his warm skin under your fingers and palms.

He watches you, lips slightly parted, until your fingers graze the hem of his pants. But then he stops you, grabbing your hands in his.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs when your eyes meet his. “You really want to do this?”

You nod, breathing out a soft, “Yes.” You nod again, though your cheeks burn. “Yes, I want it. All of it.”

He gulps, eyes darting to your lips before going back to your gaze. “Can I take your corset off?”

The question sends your heart into overdrive, yet you agree, guiding his hands to the knot at the top of the corset. You notice his fingers shaking as he slowly starts untying it, much like your own fingers are trembling, and you let out a small chuckle.

It’s unexpected, and a little awkward, yet it feels right in this moment with him. He laughs lightly as he struggles, a sound that makes you feel like you could soar in the sky beside the ravens and falcons of the Blackwood.

Maybe, if you could fly, you’d never have to go to the Ironhold.

Again, you push the thought away to focus on Yoongi’s fingers as they struggle with the laces. He curses under his breath, which makes you chuckle again.

“Let me help,” you tell him, and he begrudgingly lets you take the lead, the tip of his ears red.

You’re much more efficient, and soon enough, you’re able to undo the lacing and take off the stupid garmetn, leaving you in just your linen tunic. Yoongi runs his hands up your sides, dragging the fabric of your shirt up, and your breath hitches in your throat when he slides his hands under the fabric.

His fingers leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin, and he brings his hands up until he’s able to grab your breasts, squeezing lightly. He grunts softly again, and you feel something twitch under your lap.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out.

He doesn’t look at you, just keeps staring at the spot where his hands cover your breasts, hidden beneath your shirt. You take that as a cue to pull the fabric off, and you throw it to the side, to meet his own shirt where it fell to the floor.

Yoongi stares at your chest, eyes slightly widened, cheeks flushed, and his breathing is quicker than usual, as if he’s been sparring for a while. It makes you feel powerful to know that you’re the one with this effect on him, and you smile down at him when he finally meets your gaze again.

“You really are so beautiful,” he says again, as if in awe.

You blush at the compliment, leaning down so that you can kiss him again. To your surprise, his hands leave your breasts to rest flat on your back, and you almost screech when he spins you around, until he’s lying on top of you.

As he’s hovering over you, Yoongi stares down at you, chest moving fast from his quick inhales and exhales.

“Sorry, my lady,” he apologizes at the look on your face.

You chuckle shyly. “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He pecks your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I like taking you by surprise. Doesn’t happen often.”

You melt for him. Like the last snow under the spring sun, you melt for him. Your hand grip his biceps as he looks down at your perked nipples, and you feel like molten ore as he then traces his lips along your neck, down down down until he reaches the top of your breast.

He kisses there, once, before going lower, flicking your nipple with his tongue. When your hands wrap around his shoulders, he does it again, a little harder.

“Yoongi…”

His lips close around your nipple, and he sucks hard. You squirm at the foreign sensation, and Yoongi quickly meets your gaze, apologies written in his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you immediately reassure him. “It just feels… strange.”

He nods once, and then looks at your nipple, now shimmering with his saliva. “Do you want me to do it again?”

You grab his face, pulling him up to kiss you instead. He doesn’t resist, and he sighs against your mouth as you run your hands through his hair.

Yoongi is gentle. He always has been, but tonight he’s even more so, taking his time to take off your pants once you part from the kiss. He realizes that you’re still wearing your boots when your pants are around your calves, and he curses under his breath as he unties them and slides them off, while you laugh awkwardly, hiding your face behind your hands.

When he finally manages to take all of your clothes off, you look at him from behind your fingers, admiring how his eyes darken as he looks down at your pussy. You instinctively want to hide, to close your thighs together, and he quickly says, “Don’t… it’s…” he clears his throat. “You’re so pretty.”

Your hands fall away from your face, and you hold his gaze longingly, hoping that tonight will never end. That somewhere along the line, you’ll be able to stop time, so that you can dwell in an eternity of lying here with him.

But fantasies like that are works of fiction, and you can’t alter time. So when he stands to take off his own clothes, you quickly sit on the edge of the bed, helping him with his belt even though your hands feel clumsier than they usually are. Maybe because of the nerves wracking through you–it’s hard to tell, and you frankly don’t care.

Because this is Yoongi. Your Yoongi. You want this to be with him, a memory to treasure forever once you’re gone.

A few seconds later, Yoongi is out of his clothes too, and you think your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him.

You’ve never seen him fully naked like this. You’ve touched him, hands sliding in his pants to wrap around his length while you kissed. But you’ve never seen him, standing proud and tall and leaking precum just inches from your face.

It’s sinful, and you look up to meet his gaze as you hesitantly wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping quickly.

He winces, grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Not so fast,” he tells you gently.

You slow down, biting your lower lip, and then your eyes fall down the pretty expanse of his body until you’re watching what you’re doing so that you can do it properly.

Or at least, what you assume is proper.

Yoongi grunts softly as you jerk him off, hips thrusting forward instinctively once in a while. Something wet is pooling between your legs, and all you can do is look at him, at the tip leaking with precum. He’s rock hard under your fingers, rigid veins and velvety soft skin, and it makes your heart race in your chest with every swift motion of your wrist.

“Stop,” Yoongi lets out, sounding out of breath. “Or I… I won’t be able to do more.”

You let go of him, hand sheepishly falling in your lap. Yoongi sits next to you, and he gently pulls you closer. This kiss is softer, slowly, born of the love between you and him.

He pushes you down until you’re lying on the bed again and climbs on top of you. You spread your legs for him, wrapping them around his waist, which leads to the head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

You let out a soft moan that has him pull away.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

You laugh. “No, you’ve barely touched me yet.”

He seems conflicted for a while, brows furrowing. “Should I touch you first?”

“I don’t… know,” you admit.

You both exchange a look, and Yoongi quirks an eyebrow before finally deciding for the two of you, kneeling between your legs. His eyes drop to your pussy once more, and he hesitantly brings a hand to the apex of your thighs. You stiffen, waiting for his touch, and the moment one of his fingers slides between your folds, a volcano erupts inside of you.

He slowly pushes in, stopping at the first knuckle to gauge your reaction. When you don’t give any sign of discomfort, he finishes pushing in, until most of his finger is swallowed by you.

“It’s so tight,” he says, but there’s barely any lust behind it. Just curiosity, which makes you laugh. He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you. And then he starts moving his finger again. “How does it feel?”

“Strange,” you admit. “Good?”

Though you say it like a question, he nods. And he keeps at it for a while, slowly fingering you. The sensation is new but not unpleasant, the slow drag of his finger against your walls, the slight arch of it as he pushes in and out. It makes you want more, and you blindly grope for his cock, though your hand falls short and lands on his thigh instead.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“I think I want you.”

He stops moving his finger, before pulling it out to return to his previous position. Suddenly bold, Yoongi holds the base of his cock so that he can rub it on your pussy, and his lips parted as he looks down at you.

You moan softly, and he watches you for a moment, never pushing in. Once again, he asks, “You’re sure?”

You nod. “Please.”

It doesn’t take him more to push in, slowly. It hurts, and your face contorts in pain, which makes him stop between your legs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, about to pull out.

“No, it’s…” You wrap your legs so tight around him that he can’t move. “They say it’s supposed to hurt. At first.”

“Oh?”

You shrug. You’d heard the handmaids gossiping, and after a while, you’d just accepted it as fact.

He nods once, before gently caressing your thighs. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“I promise,” you whisper.

And though it really does hurt, you don’t stop him as he finishes pushing all the way in, stilling when he’s fully sheathed within you. There, he stops, leaning down so that he can kiss you again, his tongue dancing languidly with yours. You hold him close, bask in the feel of the weight of him on you as his hand finds your hip, his thumb caressing circles into your skin.

It takes a moment, but the pain slowly lessens until it turns into a numb sensation that you can almost entirely ignore. You nod. “I’m ready.”

He moves from your mouth to your neck, and he says against your skin, “I don’t know what to do.”

You hold him tighter. “Just move. I want to feel you.”

He nods, and then he pulls almost all the way out, before pushing in again. It still hurts, but when he does it again the pain is less, and by the tenth time you barely feel it anymore.

You kiss his shoulder, and Yoongi sighs, his lips ghosting on the side of your neck before he decides to suck on it, and the sensation makes you moan again, your arms tightening around you.

“Jagi…”

“Yoongi,” you breathe out like an echo.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to last long,” he admits. “You feel… like silk.”

You nod. “It’s okay.” You kiss his shoulder again, before adding, “Do you think you can go faster?”

He stops moving for a time, meeting your gaze. His dark eyes are filled with intensity, with lust, passion and love for you. He kisses you gently, thumb brushing against your cheek, and then he increases his rhythm.

Your words seem to unleash him, because the second you let out a small moan again, Yoongi starts going even faster, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room. Even though it feels strange, you let him do it, keep holding him close, and soon enough, pleasure starts to vibrate in you, ignited by every deep thrust.

It’s a little rough, a little clumsy, but Yoongi’s pace doesn’t falter. He grunts in your ear, and you instinctively dig your nails in the skin of his back.

That’s when he loses it. He stills deep inside of you, moaning softly, and you feel his cock twitch as he releases. You hold him through his high, gently caressing his back even though he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat–you don’t care about it. It’s him, and you think you love all of him.

You breathe in and out, slowly, as he’s still deep inside of you. When he turns his head towards you, you kiss him deeply, trying to pour all the love in your heart into the act, trying to let him know that forever and always, he’s the one that you’ll love.

Eventually, the kiss ends, the need for breath overcomes it, and Yoongi lies next to you. When he pulls out of you, you feel his warm seed dripping out, and you blush at the feeling, at the dirtiness of it, though you don’t think there’s anything purer than what just happened between you and him. So you put your head on his chest, molding yourself into his side, content just to lay with him.

It’s quiet, your mingled breathing and the sound of his heart under your ear the only noises in the room. You try to concentrate on everything, to commit it to memory. The warmth of his body, the gentleness of his touch, the stillness of everything. It’s electric, the way his fingers slowly ghost up and down your bare arm. He presses the gentlest of kisses to the crown of your head, and you have to force yourself to stay here, in this moment.

You aren’t sure what prompts it, but his arm tightens around you. “What’s wrong?” he hums, tilting his head so that he can better see your face. “Are you okay?”

Until this moment, you’d been doing well, keeping yourself together as your world shatters around you. But the concern in Yoongi’s voice, it breaks you. You don’t respond to him, merely bury your face in the bare skin of his shoulder and try to stitch yourself back together somehow.

For the two years you’d been together, when you pictured your future, it was this–it was him. You’d loved Yoongi for as long as you’d known what love was. Probably longer. He’d been your best friend, your staunchest rival, your biggest supporter. You’d spent more nights than you’d care to admit sitting on one of the castle balconies and complaining to him about your brothers, and you’d listened as he’d lamented the rigidity of his father. Losing him, being forced to walk away, it feels a little like you’re losing a part of yourself. The part that feels safe, the part that feels loved, the part that could take on anything so long as he’s there with you.

He holds you close as you fall apart, the only thing keeping you from entirely shattering. He’s basically silent, and you can’t help but think that he must be so confused, which only serves to crush you more.

“I’m sorry,” you manage finally, wiping your tears.

“What’s wrong, jagi?” Yoongi asks softly. “You’re worrying me.”

You sigh. “I have been given an impossible choice.”

He hums sympathetically. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

His confidence almost spirals you back off the edge you’ve barely clawed yourself away from. But instead of breaking again, you reach up to cup his face. In the silence, you study him, trying to memorize all of him–soft, round cheeks; button nose; dark, feline eyes. He’s handsome in a gentle sort of way. Skilled in swordplay, with a mind to match.

“Not this time, I don’t think.” Where to start? Because you should start. You owe him that, at least, after appearing at his door, bedding him, and then dissolving into tears almost immediately after. “That letter father got earlier? It came from the Ironhold. As it happens, our darling king is looking to find himself a wife.”

He blanches, a frown immediately replacing the concern on his face. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

For the briefest of moments, he deflates, his head sinking deep into his silk and feather pillow. But then his arms snake firmly around you and he pulls you impossibly closer. He kisses the top of your head before nuzzling into your hair. You feel him breathe in deeply and hold it for a moment before he slowly exhales.

“I wish there was a way to get out of this,” you mumble into his chest. “But even your father said-”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I love you,” you say desperately. You know he knows, but you need to say it.

“We’ll get through it,” he says again. “Somehow.”

You don’t sleep. You’re pretty sure that Yoongi doesn’t either. You can’t bring yourself to miss a minute, so you lay there, skin on skin, listening to his breathing and watching the moon out the window. The night is slow, but not nearly slow enough, and eventually, the sky begins to lighten.

“I should go pack,” you mumble softly, snuggling into him more.

His arm tightens around you as he hums. “Want help?”

“You don’t have to.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I’m not ready to let you go just yet. And if that means I have to help you pack, then I help you pack.”

You sigh, resting your chin on his chest so that you can look at him. “I don’t even know how much I’m allowed to bring.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He sounds so confident, but looking at him, you can tell it’s a front. His eyes have lost the sparkle they normally have, and the smile he’s wearing doesn’t go beyond his lips.

You stall for a few more moments, but force yourself to get up. He helps you find your clothes and you dress quickly before sneaking out into the hall. It’s still early, almost no one should be up yet, but you have to pass both Seokjin and Namjoon’s rooms to get to your own, and Namjoon is known for keeping strange hours.

Thankfully, this is not the first time you’ve made this journey, and you know just how to move to avoid making noise. You manage to unlatch the door to your chambers with only the slightest of sounds, and you and Yoongi sneak in. He helps you light the wall sconces and a few candles, and as your room lights up, you sigh.

You suppose you should pack on the lighter side. The king’s letter hadn’t said… anything, really, about what awaits you in the Ironhold, but you suspect that whatever you bring won’t be good enough.

Yoongi helps you fill a trunk with clothes. Or rather, he handles everything, barely letting you do any of it. He folds each garment carefully, like it’s made of glass, choosing his favorite garments like a sommelier chooses wine. You can’t read his expression, can’t tell what he’s thinking, but there’s a cloud over his eyes, and you know he’s lost in thought.

You leave him to it, figure that maybe this is something he needs to do, and busy yourself with gathering other things you want to take. A few books. A figurine of a duck your father had bought for you for your birthday as a child. Your favorite blanket. A drawing that one of the artists in town had done of your family–your father, your step-mother, Seokjin, Namjoon, and you. There’s one of you and Yoongi, too, that you tuck into one of your more boring books.

You aren’t quite sure when it happens, but you look up, and suddenly, it’s light out. A knock at your door pulls you out of the trance of going through your belongings. Yoongi’s closer, and he reaches out to open it before you can even say anything.

It’s Seokjin.

He stands there, looking a little sheepish, clutching a burlap bag. You aren’t sure if he’s nervous because Yoongi opened the door, or if he’s nervous just being there in general.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Do you–am I interrupting something?”

You exchange a quick look with Yoongi, and he shakes his head. “I’ll be back soon, yeah?” he says to you. And when you nod, he leaves you and Seokjin alone.

For a few brief moments, it’s quiet. Seokjin wanders silently and mindlessly around your room, looking at your desk, a shelf, your bedside table. But then he sighs, and a pained look crosses his face.

“What have we done to get here?” His voice is quiet, tentative, like he doesn’t want to talk too loudly.

You shrug helplessly. “I wish I knew.”

“There’s one good thing to come of it, I suppose.” He sighs once again, and this time, it’s dramatic. “Now you’ll finally have a reason to be a royal pain in the ass.”

In any other situation, you may have laughed. The two of you aren’t strangers by any means, but you’ve always been closer with Namjoon. Seokjin has always been far more interested in the artisans in the forest town than what goes on in the castle. You wouldn’t begrudge him anything, but you also annoy the everloving hell out of each other.

True siblings, your father had once proudly declared. You hadn’t always been quite as confident as he was, but the fact that Seokjin is here now… well, maybe you’re closer than you’d thought.

“I uh…” he starts awkwardly, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes before rubbing his neck. “Got you something to take with you.” He lifts up the bag, gesturing with it slightly before handing it to you.

Confused, you take it. The handle of the bag is rough, the burlap tightly woven for strength even though the contents aren’t particularly heavy. Looking in the bag, you pull out a box that’s about the width and length of a book. It’s made of blackwood, the inky black surface polished into glass. There’s a seam that splits it in half, and two golden hinges on the left side. The front of the box is engraved, a gilded thistle stands resolute against the darkness. You slide open the latch on the side and open it. The box is empty, but there’s enough room to store things.

“It’s very pretty,” you tell him, closing the box gently and slipping the latch back into place.

Gently, Seokjin takes the box out of your hands, and with both thumbs, pushes the leaves on either side of the thistle stem. There’s a quiet sound of sliding wood, and when he opens the box again, a panel inside has been moved, and suddenly, there’s more room. He closes the lid, presses the flower of the thistle, and the sliding happens again.

He pushes the box back into your hands, his eyes not leaving yours. You have questions, but the intensity of his gaze says enough.

“How?” you ask finally. You doubt he just had this lying around.

He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I asked Haejeon to put a rush on it.”

You nod. Haejeon is one of the artisans in the forest town outside the castle walls. He makes games and trinkets. Your father has hired him many times to carve and build small ornaments out of blackwood, and he’s old enough to be your uncle, but when you were kids, he’d given Seokjin a puzzle box to play with, and ever since, your step-brother has been practically stuck to the man’s hip. Over the years, as Seokjin has gotten more and more interested in the creators and builders and artists, Haejeon has taken him under his wing in a way, offering guidance and friendship outside of the castle.

“Thank him for me. Tell him it’s beautiful.” You hope to God you won’t have reason to use the secret compartment.

A noise outside the door draws your attention, and for a brief moment, Seokjin stares at the dark wood. But then he nods. “Probably Yoongi,” he says lightly. But when he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll let you kids get back to it.”

But when he opens the door, it’s Namjoon that’s standing there. He’s still in his nightshirt, and a pair of warm, woolen pants hang a little crooked on his muscular legs.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up,” he says from the doorway, looking completely past Seokjin. You motion for him to enter, but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay long, I’m sure you still have plenty to do.”

“Namjoon,” you scold, barely any bite in your tone. Easily, he gives in, taking a few tentative steps into the room.

“I brought you this.” He holds out a book in your direction.

It’s bound in plain leather, and is neither particularly large nor particularly small. The pages are old and yellowed. The front cover is entirely non-descript, the only real identifying feature to the outside simply the word ‘Lin’ stamped on the spine.

You open it, and immediately you recognize it as one of the handful of tomes from Castle Blackwood’s library that details your family history. Its handwritten pages go back thousands of years, back to when Seinal Lin first settled the Westerlands.

“I thought that maybe you’d want it. To tell them about us.”

He doesn’t have to say who he means. If this turns out the way most royal weddings do, you aren’t sure when you’ll see your family again. These people who have been your life and your heart for over two decades will more than likely be strangers to any children you may have. This history that Namjoon has given you is more than just a book. It’s a reminder of who you are. It’s a lifeline.

Suddenly, you feel like you’re breaking apart again, but you fight it off, pulling Namjoon into a tight hug. He makes a noise of surprise but after a second, his arms tighten around you. You stand there for a moment, unwilling to pull away, and soon, you feel another body press against your side. Seokjin’s arms wrap around you both, and now you couldn’t pull away, even if you wanted to.

As quick as it came, the moment passes.

“We should let you get back to it,” Namjoon says softly, a hand still on your arm.

They both nod solemnly, and then, just like that, you’re alone.

The silence is unbearable, the soft crackling of the wall sconces deafening as you’re left alone with your thoughts. Thanks to Yoongi’s earlier efforts, your things are packed, so there isn’t much left to do. You pull out your desk chair and sit, picking up your quill and twirling it between your thumb and forefinger. Thoughts swirl in your mind, and you pick up a piece of parchment.

Once you start writing, you can’t stop, and the words flow out of you as quick as you can write them down. You’re mid-word when there’s a knock at your door, and you hurry to finish and sand the ink.

“Come in,” you call, blowing across the page to get rid of the sand and excess ink.

You have the parchment folded by the time the door opens. Your suspicions are confirmed when a dark head of hair pokes in. Yoongi. He enters slowly, almost silently, and sits on the edge of your bed, watching curiously as you hold a dark green wax stick, melting it with the flame of a candle. You press your seal into the warm wax, removing it quickly before it can stick. The thistle stamp glistens in the candlelight, the wax still soft. You leave it to dry and turn your attention to Yoongi.

His gaze follows your every move, dark eyes soft with fondness. You pretend not to see the redness and puffiness that accompanies it. Silently, he reaches out, catching your hand in his own to tug you toward him. His arms hook around your legs, keeping you close.

“Father asked me to tell you they’re close,” he says softly, a pained look crossing his face briefly. “Word was sent from the first guard post.”

You hum and nod, running your hands through his hair. He’s changed his clothes, but his hair’s still a little tousled from your earlier romp. There’s still some time–the first guard post is at the bottom of the mountain, where the forest is still a thin stand of trees–but suddenly, your heart is in your throat. It hadn’t felt real, not really, but now… You push his hair back off his forehead once again and swallow thickly in an attempt to hold yourself together.

“I love you.” It just kind of bubbles to the surface, quiet but necessary.

He squeezes the back of your thigh, a soft, “I love you more,” on his lips. After another moment, he releases you. “You should change,” he says quietly, standing.

He’s almost to the door when you stop him. “Stay.” You aren’t sure why you say it, but he freezes in place. “Please,” you add. And, after a brief moment of consideration, he nods.

You dress quickly, pulling on a pair of trousers and a new tunic, barely checking to make sure they match. Yoongi helps you with your corset, his deft fingers having no trouble with the laces this time round. When he’s done, you pull him close, wrap your arms around him tightly.

You are determined to not let go of him until you have to.

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning back away from you ever so slightly. Your hands stay around his waist, but he brings his hands between you to tug at the ring on his littlest finger. Carefully, he pulls your hand away and places the ring in your palm, closing your fingers around it.

“What-?”

“Take this,” he says, squeezing your fist.

You inspect the ring. It’s funny, you’ve seen it before–you’ve played with his hands countless times, looked at it while it was on his finger–but it’s like this is the first time you’re actually seeing it. It’s silver, the flat face of it etched with a shield, a sword standing at attention in its center. On either side of the ring’s face, thistle flowers bloom along the band.

“Yoongi,” you protest. You don’t want to take his signet ring. It’s the crest of the Min family, the ring serves as a seal to press into wax. He needs it.

He insists. “Keep it. Don’t wear it if you don’t want to, but I want you to have it. To remember.”

“As if I could forget.”

Yoongi smiles at that, a soft, somber smile that curves his lips but doesn’t meet his eyes.

The quiet that settles is interrupted rather rudely by the door opening. A head of dark hair and Yoongi’s sharp eyes peer in at you. It’s Jaesung.

“Lord John asked me to fetch you both,” he says, and you can sense the anger barely concealed in his voice. “They’ll be here soon.”

Yoongi nods, but you can feel him let out a sigh.

“Shall I grab your trunk?” Jaesung asks, gesturing to the now full case behind you. It’s probably heavy, but you nod anyway. You’ve seen him lift heavier before, and you trust him to know his limits. You pick up Seokjin’s box and press the leaves, slipping Yoongi’s ring into the compartment before shutting it back up and stashing the whole thing in your trunk.

Yoongi trails behind you, his fingers grasped loosely in your own as you slowly and begrudgingly make your way through the castle. The wall sconces have been extinguished and the shutters have been thrown open, bathing the stone hallways in morning light. Instead of taking the back stairs you did last night–the ones which go past Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s chambers down to Yoongi’s–you follow the plush carpet down the hall to the grand stairs. They curve around the main hall, criss-crossing from front to back.

You pause at the first landing, just above the grand entrance. Yoongi stops almost immediately, his head falling to one side in confusion.

“Take this,” you say softly, handing him the letter from earlier.

“But-”

“Take it,” you insist, pressing it into his chest. “Don’t read it now. Give it a day or two. Please.”

Your eyes meet his, and silently, you plead with him. For a moment, he stands firm, his grip on your wrist tight. But then he relents, shoulders sagging, and nods. “Fine,” he says, taking the letter from your grasp and stuffing it into his pocket.

The heavy blackwood main doors of the castle are at least double your height, and they stand wide-open now. Your father and step-mother are in the courtyard, you can see them out by the centuries-old blackwood tree that stands sentinel in front of the castle. You’d spent many days of your childhood climbing its thick boughs, throwing seeds down to pelt Namjoon as he sat in the shade and read. Usually, the courtyard is bustling with people–from the castle, from the forest town, visitors–but now, aside from your father and step-mother, it’s completely empty.

“Stop pacing, love,” your step-mother says. She sits in a chair just to the left of the sentinel tree. She must not be feeling as well today. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I fear it’s too late for that, Sara, my dear” your father mumbles. And when he looks up, he sees you and Yoongi approaching. “Ah.” He outstretches an arm, beckoning you forward.

When you’re close enough, your step-mother grabs your free hand, enveloping it in her own. Her hands are cold, and there’s no real strength to her grip. Yoongi stands close behind you, his chest practically touching your back as you hold the gaze of your step-mother.

“Brave girl,” she says softly.

“The towers sent word ahead of time. The envoy is in a hurry to get back to the Ironhold,” your father tells you. He’s stopped his pacing and now stands beside your step-mother’s chair. “We wanted to have time to say goodbye.”

You frown. Already, the king is not making a good impression on you. Between the sudden letter and the incoming envoy that feels more like an abduction than a transport, you’re certain that this is the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life. And yet, as you look back and forth between your father and step-mother, as you hold Yoongi’s hand, you know it’s probably also–unfortunately–the right one.

Your father comes forward, his big hands cupping your cheeks. “You are smart,” he tells you, voice low. “You are strong. You are kind. Give ‘em hell.” He kisses your forehead and lets you go, turning almost immediately and walking toward the castle entrance to watch the road. You don’t miss the glisten in his eyes.

Your step-mother pats your hand. “I don’t think he will ever let this go. The Ironhold may say they’re doing this for the good of our two families, but…” She sighs. “I fear they’ve made an enemy out of the west.” She meets your gaze again, honeyed dark eyes big and sad. “Don’t let them dull you.”

Carefully, she reaches up and unpins a brooch from the front of her dress. It’s beautiful–you’ve admired it since you were a kid. A mother-of-pearl thistle blossom inset into an oval of ebony blackwood. She stands, a little unsteadily at first, and you reach out to help her gain her balance. Without looking up, she pins the brooch to your tunic, right over your heart.

You hear the hoofbeats before you see the envoy, the clattering of a carriage and several horses enough to draw anyone’s attention. Jaesung arrives just in time; he and Namjoon place your trunk just under the tree beside your step-mother’s chair. Like a spectre, Seokjin appears to your left. They all huddle closer when the first horse appears at the gates.

It’s not really that large of a traveling party–two men on horseback, a carriage with its driver, and a supply wagon–but the sight of it has your stomach churning all the same. You’re glad you didn’t take time for breakfast, or you might actually be sick. Yoongi presses closer, your entwined hands hidden behind your back.

One of the riders dismounts–you assume the steward–and approaches your father. They shake hands, and you can see the man’s gaze flick to you as they talk. Yoongi squeezes your hand. After a moment, they come closer. Your father’s face is grave, almost ashen, as he gestures for you.

The whole exchange is silent. You dare not look at Yoongi, too afraid that if you do, you’ll falter or worse. But as you step forward, he refuses to let go of your hand. Only until you’re physically too far away does he loosen his grip, and as soon as his fingers are out of your grasp, you miss him.

Your trunk gets moved to the carriage. The steward shakes your father’s hand again. Namjoon hugs you. Seokjin kisses your forehead. You’re passed around your father and step-mother and Jaesung. You refuse to look at Yoongi. And then it’s over. And you have nothing left to do but get in the carriage.

The inside of the carriage looks lavish, with soft velvet covering the bench and luxurious curtains covering the windows. But when you actually get in, the bench is hard, and the fabric over the windows leaves the carriage dark and confining. It’s impossible to see out, but you do your best, pulling the fabric away from the window and shoving your face against the wood of the wall.

They stand there, everyone you hold close, clumped together. The carriage jolts forward, and even though they can’t see you, you wave. Yoongi is the only one that lifts his hand, and you hold his gaze until the carriage enters the forest town and you can no longer see him.

Your heart hurts, and somewhere, deep inside your soul, you feel something breaking.

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your support means a whole lot, especially now when I'm low on energy and time. grad school is hell, but I wanted to post this to give us both some joy. please let me know your thoughts. I hope to finish this sometime this century, so please look forward to the next two parts!

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader

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petrapalerno · 2 months

Text

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #4

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, breath play, and violence.

MASTER POST

You reach for him, but find nothing but a fistful of purple fur. Maybe he’s finally gone back to the orgy and found something else to rut.

You blink, trying to clear your crusted eyes of sleep. Could you even find your way back to the spawning pits on your own? You weren’t really paying attention to what direction he walked when you were slung over his shoulder.

He couldn’t have walked that far, could he?

With a deep breath, you push your body up to sit; every muscle feels overworked and stiff as you move. Bringing your hands down to your pussy, you wince.

Being overworked is an understatement. You’re ninety-nine percent sure that you’ve torn something.

Sure, you like it rough, but everyone’s got a limit. You could stay here one more night and soldier back to the pits for more fun before you’re taken to the Volkroth nesting grounds.

The actual giving birth part of the breeding program isn’t really the thing that excites you, but it’s kind of package deal. Luckily, you’ve been assured that the gestation time is short and birth is much easier than for normal humans. The Volkroth deliver very undeveloped young and are brought to term outside the body at the nesting grounds.

When it was being described to you, they made it seem like they reproduced similarly to pandas or kangaroos— but no pouch was required. The tiny baby bean goes into some kind of pod, and you can go about getting fucked roughly for the rest of the spawning season. They raise the young communally too, so there’s no expectation of parenting for you either.

Looking at the sheer size of the Volkroth, the whole idea of a tiny bean of a baby seems ludicrous. But then again, you’re no expert on alien reproduction.

You’re just here to be ripped apart, and you’ve still got three months left until the spawning season ends. One rest day won’t put that big a damper on your orgy fun, will it?

The fire you slept next to is low, and you nudge a puck of the fuel you saw Drohako stoke it with last night into the flames. They instantaneously spark and the fire greedily engulfs the puck of dried vegetation and mud.

You’re just about to lie back down when you hear grunting and the hide that covers the cave’s entrance flies open.

The sun blasts into the cave, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the alien sun’s intensity. Slowly, two forms begin to block out the light.

Drohako stands, one arm up, holding the lead to some huge alien animal. As he guides it through the opening, it limps on one of its four legs.

“Stupid Grasyi, I hope the run was worth it.” He barks at the beast that looks like a cross between a Bengal tiger and a moose. As he ties the animal up, you see its legs are far too tall to belong to a big cat, but its blocky head is feline. A set of large and branching black antlers curl around his head. Its striped yellow fur is thick and fluffy, but you can tell it masks how vicious the beast is. The animal’s almond eyes flick over to you as it licks its lips lazily, revealing a viciously sharp set of teeth, it's incisors lengthening out like a snakes fangs.

“Drohako?”

“Who else would it be?” He turns to me, annoyed and scowling.

“I don’t know. I figured you headed back to the spawning pits. Don’t get pissy with me.” I stand slowly and with a great deal of shaking effort.

“And now you’re hurt, too? You, little human, might have eyes bigger than your cunt.” He gestures down to his crotch. His massive cocks are covered with some kind of loincloth. It does little to hide his thunder, so to speak.

You scoff, but he’s probably not wrong. Taking a step forward, your knees unexpectedly give out. Closing your eyes, you expect to fall face first into the fire.

You feel the heat on your cheeks, but not the licking sting of the flames. Bringing your hand up to your chest, you feel Drohako’s brawny forearm. It grips your chest tightly, holding you just above the fire.

“You move pretty fast for a big guy,” you chirp, still woozy.

“You are injured,” he tells you earnestly.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mutter under your breath, and he pulls you into his arms.

“You will tell me next time you’re injured. You won’t be stupid like this again,” He scolds as we walk further into the cave.

My stomach grumbles and clenches uncomfortably. “Maybe I’m just hungry.”

Drohako groans, “You are both, and you’ve informed me of neither.”

“Sorry, I thought you hit it and quit it,” I laugh. “I’m sure I would have figured it out once I made it back to the spawning pits—“

Drohako wraps his hand around your hair and tugs your head back hard.

“You are not going back to the spawning pits. In fact, you will not leave the home cave,” he seethes.

“What? Were you serious last night? Isn’t that the point of me being here?” He steps over some kind of ledge, and you realize he’s lowering you both into the hot spring you saw last night.

Drohako tucks his legs under him, sitting over his crossed ankles, and cradles you as he slowly brings your body under the water’s surface. Now that you’re actually in it, you don’t think it’s water. It’s not sticky, but it is thick like syrup. It clings to your body and displaces in ways that water wouldn’t. As you lay across his lap, he looks at you with a sour scowl and tugs your hair back into the pool, “Hold your breath.”

You don’t do it fast enough, and some water gets into your nose and lungs. You choke when he lets you up, gasping for air and forcing the warm water out of your chest.

“What the fuck? You’re mad that I’m injured, so you try to drown me?” You sputter at him.

“The frustrating fact that you have no self-preservation skills, and also can’t follow instructions, isn’t my fault…now is it? Quit complaining before I gag you again. The planet’s blood is healing.” He acts like he would rather do anything other than caring for you…but does it all the same.

“Planet’s blood? Healing?” You ask, but realize that he’s right. Your muscles are relaxing, and even your crotch isn’t as sore.

“How injured is your cunt?” He asks as if you’re talking about the weather.

“It’s sore,” you say, trying to mitigate how painful it actually is.

With a sigh and an eye roll, he spins you so that your head rests just below his pecs. You feel pint-sized when he’s manhandling you.

You don’t resist when he pulls your knees apart wide enough so that your feet fall on the outside of his own legs. You watch him with curiosity as he slides a big purple hand between your legs. He rubs broadly over your mound and lips, working the healing water over your pussy.

You ease into him as some of the stinging is instantly soothed.

Your mouth parts as his hand dips lower, and two of his thick fingers run up and down the lips of my pussy before pressing into you entrance. You flinch slightly as he touches your torn skin.

“I should fuck you even rawer for not telling me you were hurt,” he says through gritted teeth.

You wonder if maybe he actually did scrambled something in your brain when slammed it into the ground. A cord tightens inside you as your arousal grows. It would fucking hurt, but in a way, you feel you would like.

You buck your hips a little, maybe giving him the gentle nudge he needs to fucking wreck you again.

His other hand wraps around your neck, squeezing the sides hard. You bite your lip, unable to help the warmth spreading over your body.

“You are an insolent thing who will only get fucked once she listens. You’re going to have to earn these cocks.”

You expect him to move his hands a little faster, perhaps slipping at least one of his cocks up into you.

But he doesn’t. He rubs your torn pussy slowly, and you can almost feel it mending itself, thanks to the weird alien liquid. The new skin that grows is more sensitive than what was there before, and it doesn’t help you lessen your arousal.

“Do you want this seed filling your belly, growing my spawn?” He breathes into your ear, and all the while, his hands move torturously slowly on your no longer painful pussy.

“Yes,” you sigh as he squeezes your neck all the harder.

“Do you want your tight little human cunt to milk these cocks?” He rasps, letting his fingers find your clit. Because the liquid your in, the planet’s blood, is thick and viscous, it lets him glide over the sensitive spot at your pussy’s apex with ease.

Your legs shake as he runs circles around the bundle of nerves, your muscles clasping, begging to be filled up with his thick cocks. You want to feel the delicious swell of his knotting dicks again.

“Please Drohako,” you moan, arching up.

“Do you want to come, little human?” He bites your ear lobe hard.

“Fuck yes,” you say, so close to the edge of no return.

“Then you will fucking listen to me from now on,” his tone changes from sensual to angry in the span of a heartbeat.

You’re surprised when he stops petting your pussy and pushes your knees shut. You're still throbbing with need when he pushes you forward into the pool so he can leave it.

“Did you really just do that?” You pant as you watch him walk back toward the front of the cave, pushing your own hand between your thighs. If you don’t find your release, you feel like you’ll explode and your fingers work furiously, trying to expedite your own ecstasy.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself,” his voice booms as he snarls at you. You jump almost as much as the strange creature tied up by the cave’s entrance. “You will come only when I allow it, and right now, you don’t deserve it.”

Oh. This is a thing, a thing you like. Do you get off on withholding?

“You will let your body heal, you will eat the food I’m about to bring you, and you will stop talking about returning to the spawning pits. You took my knot, you are my mate.” He balls his fists up. “I will teach you some gods’ damn discipline if it’s the last fucking thing I do,” His purple face is flushed near blue as he points an accusatory finger at you.

“Your mate?” You ask, bewildered.

#monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #monsterfuqqer #monster romance #monster lover #smut #terato #aliens #i love aliens #alien romance #alien x reader #alien x human #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort

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mangowafflesss · 7 months

Text

Antique Soldiers | Ghost!141

Summary: Going into an antique store you're drawn to a beautiful box which is sealed until you take it home only for the inhabitants inside be released.

Word Count: 5K+

Mythic Month HQ

★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★

You were going to stay inside today, maybe curl up onto your sofa and watch your favourite films but no. You decided to help out your friend instead, you loved her with all of your heart but sometimes you really hate the fact you can never say no to her, which means you agreeing to do things without even realising what you’re agreeing to.

She was directing some production for her end of term project. Creating some sort of crack den for vampires. You weren't really paying attention to what it was about but you agreed to be on set design. You've never done anything like that before but all she said was it to be ‘spooky vampire vibes’.

You had spent all last night in your bed with your laptop on Pinterest, you were so far into your research of ‘vampire vibe’ decor that you hadn’t realised the sun was starting to rise and you were significantly hungrier than before.

Tugging your coat tighter around yourself you trek down the highly decorated streets. It was close to halloween so you dodged carved pumpkins and hanging cobwebs from shop signs and awnings. Your town always goes all out even though it really isn't a popular holiday around these parts.

You stop in your tracks as you spot your destination in front of you. An old antique shop that sells things for dirt cheap. The owner has lived above it for years, there's a silly rumour that they're actually a witch but you don't believe in such things.

The front door opened with a jingle of a bell which echoed around the quiet shop. You felt uneasy as you ventured into the small space. There were so many things in here so you were careful to not accidentally knock anything over. You walked past a mirror that had definitely survived a fire or something, the reflection was all hazy and the outsides were black with specks of the original gold peeking through. It looked like there was someone else standing inside of it but you quickly looked away before you fully saw anything.

Feeling a shiver go up your spine you have a sudden feeling you're being watched. You looked around you but couldn't see anyone - not even a worker. Weird.

As you look through shelves of things, you come across a table with a small box sitting on it. It was absolutely beautiful, it was silver with blue gems embedded into different slots. Picking it up you look at it closer and feel something move around inside, feeling curious you try to open it but sadly you can't.

“Beautiful isn't it” you flinch as you turn and see a woman standing next to you. Her dark hair covered part of her face but you could clearly make out the wrinkles decorating her face.

“How much is it? There isn't a price tag” you blurt out and ask before you even realise you said anything. Is it weird to be drawn to something so much? The woman gives it a long look before smiling at you “free, take it” you furrow your brows at her and then look at the box in your hands. It looked so precious and expensive, why would she give it to you for free?

“Are you sure? I can always give you something” you offer while moving towards your purse but a hand on your arm stops you “take it, it's yours now” is all she says before walking away leaving you alone once more.

You exited the store but then came to the realisation that you didn't buy anything for your set. You look back through the window of the store and see the ‘closed’ sign swinging as if it was just turned. “Great… just great” you huff and then notice that it's a lot darker outside. How long were you in there for?

Looking down at the box in your arms you groan at your stupid infatuation with it but hold it closer to your chest and storm back to where you parked your car.

It had been a couple of days and you woke up to the feeling of your apartment freezing cold. Pulling on a warm jumper, you pull the sleeves over your hands to try and gain some warmth into them. Rubbing your arms you walk over to the thermostat, but when you see the temperature you become confused. It's a normal temperature so why do you feel so cold?

Moving further into your home the temperature changes and you test the different rooms. Every room was the temperature it was supposed to be except your bedroom. Walking over to your whiteboard of things to remember you write down ‘call maintenance’ onto the list.

Sighing you go back into your freezing bedroom and get changed then grab your bag to go to your first class. What you don't realise is that the pretty sealed box you bought a couple of days ago was laying wide open on the top of your dresser.

Your day was long and your friend was breathing down your neck about this stupid set design so you stayed behind and finished it off. When you get home you go into your bedroom and get ready for the shock of a cold temperature but when it doesn’t come you freeze. “Hmm maybe I don't have to call maintenance after all” you smile before going to your board and wipe the note off but then see the black marker is smeared over the white background. Looking closer it looks like finger marks which confuses you “What the?”

*BANG*

You flinch at the sudden sound and peer around the corner to where you heard the sound come from. You see your bedroom door is now shut and eye it suspiciously before taking a deep breath and slowly walking towards it. If someone was inside of your apartment you would have seen them due to the lack of size and space you have but then again how do you explain the wiped off marker.

Either it was an intruder or your friend was playing a trick on you, she had a spare key and has loved playing pranks on you since you were in high school. Taking another big deep breath you shake off your tense shoulders and grip the bedroom door handle, twisting it fast and barge through the door to find nothing.

“I must be going crazy” you huff a laugh and then stop when something catches your eye. There was a reflection in your mirror and it looked like a man but it quickly disappeared and you looked all around your room and your eyes landed on something else.

The box.

Slowly walking over to where it sat on your dresser, the blue silk interior grabs your attention and you eagerly look inside only to find… dogtags?

Reaching inside you hold one up in the air and read it “Kyle Garrick” quirking an eyebrow up you gather the others into your hands and also read their names “Well Kyle, Johnny, Simon and John I don't know if you're real but if you are why are you in a box?” you question and feel something breathe in your ear. You flick your head to the side and look behind you, you're starting to get freaked out now but something in the back of your mind is laughing at you.

Your gut feeling was saying for you to run, your eyes look at your open bedroom door and you dart for it. As you were about to pass through the threshold it slammed shut in your face and you grabbed the handle which was red hot. Letting out a hiss you hold your hand and feel the top layer of your skin burn.

Backing away from the door you look at your window and groan when you realise they don't open far due to you being so high up. Reaching for your phone you pick it up but then you see the battery is dead “What the fuck?” you could've sworn it was at least 40%.

Throwing it down on your bed your mind keeps nagging at you to go to the box. Glancing over at the glistening silver material you hesitate before touching it again. The dogtags were still laying inside and you picked all of them up, holding them in one hand as you investigated the box. You felt along the silk interior for anything stuck into it but you couldn't find anything. Flipping it upside down however an engraving stood out to you with a familiar name carved in the silver.

Your name was in bold capital letters, you ran your thumb along it and felt every indent of each initial. “This has to be some sort of joke” you put it back down and go to pick up your phone to charge it and call someone, you need answers and you have a feeling your friend was behind this.

As you turn around you let out a scream when you see four men looking at you. Your hand tightened around the dog tags wrapped around your hand as you stood there frozen on the spot.

Get out of there! Your mind screamed at you but you were in some sort of daze.

You tried to move but your feet were stuck and your heartbeat got faster with every breath you took. “Don't be afraid we're not going to hurt you” one says with his arms raised in the air, he took a step towards you but you managed to step back, your ass was pressed up against the dresser and you felt behind you. The box was in reach and you flung it at them but watched in horror as it went through them. The loud clattering sound was the only noise filling your senses.

“What the fuck?” is all you managed to get out before making a break for it and ran towards them, all logic in your mind went out of the window at your actions but they were guarding the door and you needed to get out of here.

Arms however wrapped around your body and you were flung to the bed and held down “let me go!” you wiggle around to get yourself free but it was no use, you were stuck and it sucked terribly.

“Calm down! breathe in through your nose and exhale through your mouth” someone grabs your chin and your face to face with one of the men, he has scars on his face which somehow seemed to calm you down. Some connected with one another and you snapped out of it when you felt something lightly tap your face.

“Hey… we won't hurt you, my name's Kyle. What's yours?” his voice was soft and you almost fell into the security of it until you came back to reality. The other man had already let go of you but you scrambled up your bed until you were sitting on your pillows with your back to the headboard. You were shaking slightly and the cold feeling from this morning had come back. You looked at each individual who was surrounding your bed, they watched you with curious eyes but they didn’t seem to look threatening. Okay maybe they did a little with their big bodies but there was something trusting about them.

After what felt like forever you crawled to the bottom of your bed and reached out a hand, carefully pushing through the abdomen of the scarred man. “This is insane…” you breathe out and a shiver goes up your arm, goosebumps raising along with your hairs.

You saw movement in the corner of your eye and another man stood before you with something in his hand. You looked at him and he dropped the item in your hand which was one of the dog tags. “Johnny Mactavish, is this you?” he nods his head and you grab the rest which are sprawled out on your bed and gather them in your palm.

“These belong to all of you?”

“Yes they do”

“Why are they in a box though in some antique store?” you had to ask the question but maybe they didn't even know. “Dunno but it's stuffy in there” one of them jokes and you stare blankly at him.

You're joking with ghosts… dead people are in front of you right now and you’re joking with them as if they are still alive.

Sighing heavily you ask for them to introduce themselves to you and then they slip each of their tags around your neck, they jingled with every move you made but you didn't mind it. You didn't feel comfortable talking to them in your room so you asked them to go to the living room instead, while you thought they would open the door they didn't and instead walked through it.

When you entered your living room they were all waiting for you, each with different types of smiles on their faces, you sat on the sofa with your head in your hands.

“So you guys are ghosts”

“Yes” they say in unison and you run your palms down your face and groan “okayyy and how did you die?” you ask but then they begin to awkwardly look at each other clearly uncomfortable with the question.

You felt something lower itself next to you and John looks at you with a solemn expression on his face “We were on a mission but unfortunately couldn't trust the information we were given, we were captured and executed on the spot, youngest first up to the oldest” you let out a gasp at his words and went to give him a friendly touch of reassurance only for your hand to go through him.

“I'm sorry…” your hand hovers over where his shoulder is and he appreciated the gesture and placed his hand on yours. Your hand felt as if it was inside of the freezer by his touch and he could tell you were uncomfortable and retreated it.

As you stared at his hand you were suddenly curious about something “How is it that I can see you guys?” you look over to the others and Simon steps forward “We're showing ourselves to you, also you have something we’re attached to�� he points to the metallic chains around your neck which makes you look down at them and touch them.

“Why can I only touch you some of the time?” You turned to John and he tapped his head “It takes a lot of concentration, can’t do it all the time or else then you won’t be able to see or hear us” you nod your head as you take in the information and then stand up.

“I see… When did the box open?” you asked while standing there and tapping your pointer finger on your lip in thought. “Around this morning” Johnny says and everyone agrees with murmurs and nods.

“So what you're saying is you watched me sleep and get dressed today” you looked at him and he seemed to freeze on the spot and become flustered. “Umm well uh…” he slowly disappeared from your vision and you sighed “Really? Even in death guys are still creeps”

“We are not creeps! You just didn’t know we were there” Kyle states and you narrow your eyes at him before rolling them and walking to your front door.

“Well it was nice meeting you but you may leave now, go bother someone else” you motion to the hallway outside your apartment and they stay where they are and then Johnny comes back into view shaking his head side to side.

“Come on, gooo” you move your arm quickly hoping it'll spur them into movement but they're all still rooted like a tree.

“We can't. We're stuck here” Simon says flatly “You fucking with me right. No?” your mouth was open like a fish out of water and you slammed the door behind you not realising its currently very late and your neighbours are probably asleep.

“Well if you’re going to be here all the time then we’re going to have to have some rules” you stand like a mother with your hands on your hips and giving each individual a look to let them know you're serious.

“Of course. What are your rules?” John sits on the arm of your sofa and waits patiently, you appreciate the gesture and his respect for you.

“Everyone just come over here please” you motion to your sofa and they all do as you say. You stand in front of them pacing.

“Okay so first, no going in my room” they all nod and you bite your lip while trying to think of another rule. “Secondly, no - ummm. Bathroom! Do not go in there okay?” Kyle lets out a small giggle and you sigh.

“That’s all I got” you say, shrugging your shoulders and collapsing into your armchair. You were exhausted from your busy day and the showing up of your new ‘roommates’. Running a hand down your face you let out a yawn and then there was a knock at your door.

Walking over, the guys as well, you look through your peephole and see who it is. Opening it you see your neighbour standing there. “Thank goodness you answered, are you okay dearie? I heard you pacing around and… you talking to yourself” the older woman played with her cardigan button and you just stared blankly at her “Oh, I was- on the phone” you give her a smile but her eyes cast to the side of you which makes you panic.

“Why is your hair floating?” She didn’t seem fazed by what she said but your shoulders tense when you feel a cool breeze run up your back. Reaching up to your head you smooth down the hairs, Kyle pops up next to you with a cheeky smile on his face but you remain calm in front of your neighbour who looks… worried for you.

“I was rubbing a balloon on my head. The static and stuff” You state and she seems to become more worried “A balloon?” She looked down at her watch and then back to you “Sweetheart why don’t you go get yourself some sleep okay? And I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning” she says, softly grabbing your hand in a caring manner.

After saying your goodbyes you shut your door softly not wanting to wake your neighbours at 3am. Turning swiftly on your heel you march towards Kyle “That wasn’t funny!” You whisper yell but all he does is shrug his shoulders and laugh. “It was funny. For me anyway” he seemed very happy with himself as he joyfully walked around your living room, looking at the photos on the walls and knocking a blanket off the back of your sofa on purpose.

“I'll put you back in the box!” you threaten and he turns around and puts his hands together while falling onto his knees “Oh please don't! I don't deserve such punishment” he laughs and you grumble something under your breath before slowly backing out of the room “John please keep him away from my stuff, you're my favourite as of now” “Hey what about me?!” Johnny shouts but you’re already in your room getting ready to go to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning you had hoped everything was a dream until you opened your bedroom door to a six foot something Simon. “Fuck me! Why are you standing there?” you placed a hand on your chest to steady your beating heart while walking through him. “I was coming to see if you were awake” he followed you as you walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water.

“Why?”

“The guys were annoying me”

“So you thought to come and annoy me”

You were grabbing your favourite mug from the cupboard and prepared your drink for the water. “I wanted to ask you something” you hummed for him to continue as you grabbed a spoon. “The box had your name on it, why?” you stopped where you stood by the sink and turned to face him “Thank you for reminding me” you smiled before walking past him and going to your room to find it.

When you entered it was still on the floor from when you threw it at them and your name was still engraved into the bottom. As it was tipped upside down something flew out and you looked down at the ground to see a piece of paper laying next to your foot. That most definitely wasn't there yesterday. Bending down to pick it up you turned it around and read the inky words on the page.

‘May these souls be reunited with their owner’

“Owner? That sounds like some bullshit don't you think” you look to your side but don't see Simon with you. Poking your head out to where your door is you see him leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why didn't you follow me? I was talking to you”

“Did you really forget your own rules already?”

You did forget but he didn't need to know that. “No… but we were having a conversation so that means you could come in” you held your head high and he just gave you one look and came inside of your room.

You show him the paper in your hand and he reads it, there wasn't any emotion on his face so you didn't really know what he was thinking. “Where did you get this from?” He points to the paper and then you show him the box that was tucked under your armpit.

“It flew out when I was reading the bottom”

He turned on his heel while holding the box and walked away from you. “Where are you going?” you chase after him and the tags around your neck clashed together as you did so.

When you walk into the living room the guys are all there surrounding your coffee table as they stare at the box Simon placed down along with the note.

“What does it mean?” “How do we know that she didn’t put it there last night”

They turned to look at you in unison and you somewhat felt like you were under some sort of investigation. “Why would I write something like that? Even I don't know what it means”

“Well clearly it means that she is our owner and this box belongs to her”

“Why did you buy this box in the first place?” John asks you and you give it a look and walk towards it.

“I was buying some things for a project and this was the only thing I picked up. I immediately asked for the price but the woman gave it to me for free, I never saw the engraving on the bottom” you say in the most honest way you could. “I was somewhat attracted to it” your eyes were glued to the shiny material.

“Did the woman seem weird at all?” Kyle asks and you look at him and think “Not really… she approached me out of nowhere and that was it”

“What did she look like?”

“What's with all the questions? It was just some old lady who said I could take it and that's it” you don't know why you got so defensive but they were starting to annoy you and you've only known them for a day.

“Black hair?”

“Seemed like she would smell funky” you stared at Johnny and made a face of disgust “Uh yeah…” they moved in an instant and came towards you, their bodies were so close and you felt intimidated.

“When we died we saw a woman like that and then she put us in that very box” John explained while pointing to the coffee table. “Should we go to the store and see if she's there?” you say looking at each of them and then shake your head as you remembered they can’t leave… or can they?

Turning around to your front door you opened it but then jumped out of your skin when you saw your neighbour standing there “Are you okay sweetie? I brought you breakfast” giving her a smile you quickly take it out of her hands and bring it inside before sending her back to her apartment.

“Follow me”

“We-”

“Come outside, trust me” you beckon them over with your hand and they give each other a shrug before Kyle comes running towards the door. You watch from the hallway outside your apartment, him coming your way, you had no idea if it would work but it's worth a try - and he's really trusting you in this.

He closed his eyes and ran straight over the threshold of your entrance. A smile spread over your face and the others inside looked confused “I think it has to do with these” you say while holding up the dog tags around your neck. “They were in the box, sooo if I take them with me so can you” that was your logic around it but you had no idea this idea would even work but you're glad it did.

“Simon grab the box and let's go!” you march away until you hear your name being called “Aren't you forgetting something?” John says and points to your feet, nodding your head you go back into your apartment and grab some shoes and also your car keys.

Walking down the streets with the knowledge that there are four ghosts with you and no one else knows makes you feel weird. You tried not to speak to them as you didn’t want the surprisingly busy streets to think you're talking to them or yourself…

You saw the shop ahead and headed towards it in a more hurried manner, you wanted to find this woman and wanted answers as to why she's given you four ghosts.

Opening the door the same bell jingled above the door and a woman greeted you. You've never seen her before but walked up to the counter anyway. “Hi, I was sold this box a couple of days ago and I wanted to see if the woman who sold it me was here”

The blonde gave you a smile and then frowned when she looked down at the item on the counter. “I'm sorry but we didn't sell you this” she says and you shake your head “No I came in here and picked it up from a table in the back” you point in the general direction but she gives you a disappointing smile and shakes her head.

“Well is the woman here? Dark hair and around this height” you measure where the woman was up to you and the woman shakes her head yet again “I’m the only one who works here, I'm sorry I can’t help you”

You watch as Simon and Johnny walk through the counter and investigate the back room, the girl must've felt the breeze of their bodies and turned around. You were so glad she couldn't see them.

“Have you ever had anyone of that description come in before?” you question and she turns back around to you and taps the counter thinking of an answer. “Nope not many people come in here so I would remember someone like that”

You see the guys reemerge from the back and Johnny gives you a shrug of the shoulders “Nothing there” Simon says and you admit defeat and pick up your box and turn to leave. When you walk back outside your shoulders sag and a frown appears on your face “I guess we’ll never know why she gave me this box” you kick a stone across the floor and walk back to your car with the guys behind you.

“It'll be okay, you got four smoking men to live with now, anyone would die for that” you hear Kyle say from his place next to you and you let out a laugh and unlock your car.

“I don’t particularly find dead people attractive, no offence”

Weeks later you and the guys have been getting along.

Price helped you build a bookshelf, which was collecting dust for years in its box. He couldn't actually do it for you but he told you where each thing went, it wasn’t helpful when Kyle stole one of the screws. Apparently he wasn't always like this, a jokester yes but never this playful. You didn't mind it really, it was a little annoying sometimes but he’d bring it back… after begging for it.

Simon and Johnny helped you bake. You were making some cupcakes for your friend's birthday party and you were on strict duty to make your ‘yummy cupcakes’. They weren't even special but if people liked them, then that's all that matters. Johnny did tie the apron a little too tight around your waist but you didn’t mind breathing with how he smiled so brightly at the thought he was helping you. Simon read out the recipe - even though you didn’t need it - he did read it softly but sometimes his lieutenant side came out and yelled at you for not following them directly.

You hadn’t gotten used to the fact that they just pop up out of nowhere. Playing tricks on you, making you jump or drop things when they reach out to grab you but don’t show themselves. It was as if they were trying to give you a heart attack and become like them.

You had found their social media that was never deleted and laughed at their pictures, they were bad… really bad. They didn't appreciate your judgemental looks and your laugh crying and threw things at you.

Whenever you had friends over you would have to beg them to behave but you would see them in the corner of your eye touching your friends hair or making the room unbearably cold. You had to lie and say it was just your apartment because there was no chance they would believe you had ghosts living with you,

Their dog tags were laid safely inside of the silver box on your dresser, you only wore them unless you wanted to take them out of your house, Johnny claimed it was as if they were your pet. You did remind him of the ominous note of you being their owner and he ripped it up and threw it out of the window, very dramatic.

You'd never see the woman again and you frequented the antique store after your class just to try to see her but you never got close. She just disappeared.

It was okay though, living with ghosts isn't actually as bad as it seems.

#Mangos Mythic Month🦇˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:#141 x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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