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morallyinept · 4 months

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Heyday Hero - A Valentine's Story - Mature!Marcus Moreno

This is a story set in the Heyday Hero Universe. You might wanna read that one first if you haven't already.

Summary: Marcus pulls out all the stops to make your first Valentine's Day together really super!

Pairing: Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature/CurvyF!Reader (No name of reader. It’s you, bub. However Reader is of a similar age to Marcus, who I have made 52 in this story, and Reader is more on the curvier side in body type. Otherwise a blank slate. Images for aesthetic, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 7.2k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Both Marcus & Reader have REAL bodies, and very real middle age spread/coming to terms with ageing & feeling obsolete.

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering - Marcus has superpower hands⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love/all the flowers and pancake mush you can swallow/Marcus being the perfect, romantic fool

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! 🥰 I just had to revisit these two love birds on this heart day. Love you all so much! 😘

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

HEYDAY HERO <- Main Story

Enjoy! 🖤

The early morning Austin sun casts a warm glow over Marcus's garden as he ambles among the clusters of vibrant blooms swaying gently in the Texan breeze.

Clipping blush peonies with thoughtful precision, his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Missy and you; the two women in his life showering him with more love in abundance than he could ever wish for.

Fragrant petals whisper to him in the gentle flurry, carrying the promise of a special day he’s woken up to. A day that, for so long, had seemed so mundane - another day ending in a Y. So pointlessly lonely. Just ordinary in his solace without a partner to share the topical mushiness with, even if it was rife with capitalist sentiment sponsored by the fat cats at Hallmark.

Lost in contemplation as he prunes and snips at stems, Marcus's thoughts are a blend of affection and giddy anticipation, and he can’t wait to see his daughter smile as she inhales in the perfumed fragrance of the florals he’s chosen just for her.

Despite the lack of a romantic partner since the passing of his wife and Missy's mother, his Valentine’s Days since were about showering Missy with love and appreciation, something that she initially resisted, stomping into her unruly teens and it being branded “uncool” to spend time with her father fussing over her as she was reaching maturity.

But he still upheld that tradition nonetheless.

Now a headstrong woman in her thirties, she could appreciate that effort and often sought it out willingly as she would snuggle in closer to him when watching a movie together after a hard day of fighting the world’s enemies and threats, and he would smile as she fell asleep snoring into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and subsequently leaving a patch of drool on it.

But as much as the superhero father-daughter duo loved one another, Marcus missed the companionship of a partner he could shower with hopelessly romantic sentiment and love of a more intimate kind.

That was until he met you.

Over the course of the last six months, yours and Marcus’s relationship has bloomed and flourished, much like his garden, evolving into a softly hedonistic timeline woven with shared experiences, laughter, and genuine affection.

Despite the exciting journey you’re both on, you both carry unspoken anxieties that occasionally cast shadows on the picturesque canvas of your budding romance.

Your dates were a delightfully regular mix of adventures - whether exploring museums, cozying up at home with a homemade dinner and a classic movie, or exploring the wonderland of nature.

And Marcus still can’t get your first meeting out of his mind. The date that solidified it all for him.

He was mesmerised by you, and still is, fearing some days he’ll wake up and realise it’s all been some wondrous dream where he subconsciously created and crafted you from the moulds of his inert loneliness.

He glances over to the sun loungers by the pool, and his cock pulls tight in his jeans, remembering the two of you sat in one together, listening to your words as you read from your book to him, only a few days ago as the sun set into a fiery orange sky.

He can smell the scent of your skin again now as the tepid heat warmed it as he had you in his arms, basking in the dying rays as he buried himself inside of you from behind. His nose running tracks against the back of your neck as his fingers drew circles on your clit, bringing you to soaring heights without ever leaving the ground.

With the book discarded to the patio, his big hands were resting and stroking on the crinkles of your tummy skin as he whispered how beautiful you are, nipping on your earlobe as the sky blushed above you, an expansive voyeur to your lovemaking.

The gentle, yet enthusiastic, pace of your relationship allows you to savour each moment, creating a foundation of tentative understanding and trust. Yet, as the seasons change, the passage of time invokes subtle insecurities that bleed in uninvited.

It’s human nature, he supposes. Marcus, a retired superhero, whose body had once effortlessly defied gravity, now finds himself grappling with the harsh realities of ageing. The occasional ache and stiffness serve as reminders of the physical toll his heroic past has taken on him.

You, too, are confronted with your own insecurities when you stand in front of the mirror, naked after a shower, and notice things aren't as supple or as perky as they used to be. The mirage of eternal youth begins to dissipate, sands falling in the glass, replaced by the acknowledgement of lines that trace the stories of your laughter, and the gradual changes of a sinking gravity that comes with the eventual movement of time.

As the months towards his retirement from the Heroics had unfolded, Marcus began to notice the subtle changes in his body - the creaky echoes of years spent in the pursuit of justice. The once effortless movements that defined his superhero heydays were now accompanied by a quiet reminder of the toll taken on his physical form.

Morning stiffness became a familiar companion as Marcus greeted the dawn - a stiffness of a different, less exciting kind.

The pops in his joints were like a cacophony of irritating reminders, a natural clicking chorus that played out, despite him being an unwilling conductor, as he rose from his bed. Aches manifested in areas that once bore the brunt of intense physical exertion.

His shoulders, which had once easily carried the weight of the world, now bore the imprints of past struggles. Welted, faded scars of times when he came close to exchanging his life so others could live, adorned him. White, little lines of jagged lightning against the golden skin that you would run your fingers or tongue over, bringing about a sensual healing in the layers of his marred epidermis with your explorative and worshipping ministrations.

On some days, Marcus found himself pausing to stretch, a conscious effort to ease the tightness that settled into his muscles. The warm-up routine, once a prelude to high-flying acrobatic adventures, now became a ritual to navigate the nuances of a body shaped by years of gritty heroism.

Yet, despite the stark, physical reminders of ageing, Marcus approached each day with resilience and a quiet acceptance. The aches were not signals of defeat but rather markers of a life well-lived, a testament to the now grey hero who had faced challenges head-on and emerged with stories of grandeur etched into the fabric of his being.

Observant and empathetic, you stood by Marcus's side as he navigated these physical aches and pains on the mornings you woke up together.

Your gentle massages and understanding glances spoke volumes, creating a space where the vulnerabilities of ageing became threads that wove you both closer together.

He thinks back to the way your hands glide over his body and soon distract him from the aches to another ache weighing heavy between his legs. The more pleasant vareity of morning stiffness.

His ears are soon filled with your gasps and moans as he zones out under the morning sun, thinking back to mornings waking with you wrapped around him as he slipped inside you and worked you both out.

In that tranquil corner of the garden, surrounded by the coveted peace of nature, Marcus confronts the uncertainties, but the happiness he feels quells any of that self-doubt in an instance.

The kitchen, the epicentre of Marcus’s world now, soon becomes a hub of activity as Marcus sets about creating a special morning feast on the day of San Valentín.

The aroma of homemade pancakes fills the air, mingling with the scents of freshly brewed coffee and tarte fruity berries. The vase of peonies adorns the table, adding a touch of colour to the special breakfast spread he’s prepared all morning with love and care.

As Missy enters the kitchen, hair damp and bedraggled, the mild surprise melting away the sleep in her battered eyes, Marcus can't help but beam.

"Happy Valentine's Day, kiddo," he says, presenting her with the hand-cut bouquet.

Missy's eyes light up with unbridled joy as she accepts the vase of flowers with a kiss on the side of his fuzzy face. "Dad, these are beautiful. Thank you."

“Only the best for my muñeca. Sit, I made you some breakfast.” (Doll.)

“You’re not having breakfast with your lovely lady?”

“We’re spending the rest of the day together. I've made plans.” His eyes light up as he says it, pouring out hot coffee.

"Sneaky." Missy smirks.

“This morning is just for you and me.”

“Makes a change not to see you two half-naked and draped all over each other. You know, these walls are paper thin.”

“Shut up.” Marcus says, evidently blushing.

“I ought to file a complaint, I’m sure it violates some building code… loud noises.”

“Or you could just stay at your place?” He suggests with a grin.

“Pffft. That’ll never happen.”

In the days leading up to Missy and you meeting for the first time - which was inevitable really considering how often your paths had almost crossed with Missy using her key at any God given time of day - Marcus hadn’t been able to shake a lingering sense of angst. He found himself caught in the crossroads of two important relationships intermingling in his life, and the fear of you both not getting along tugged at the edges of his erratic thoughts.

As he’d prepared the house for your official get-together, Marcus couldn't help but second guess his decision. What if you didn't hit it off? The worry gnawed at him, the uncertainty of your connection becoming a lead weight on his broad shoulders and making him feel somewhat nauseous at the prospect of facing a choice.

He tried to distract himself with preparations, arranging a small dinner, which soon became over the top due to the stress-cooking that ensued, and ensuring the atmosphere was comfortable.

But every now and then, a wave of anxiety washed over him despite Missy reminding him that he was worrying over nothing.

If she makes you this goofy, Dad, then I already love her… Missy'd remarked as he clattered about clumsily with pans.

When the hour finally arrived, Marcus did his best to hide his apprehension despite his squally gut. As Missy and you exchanged greetings, he observed your interactions with a hopeful, yet anxious, heart.

The initial moments were filled with small talk, and Marcus found himself holding his breath, waiting for a sign that you were connecting, and shucking in deep breaths of oxygen when you subtly reminded him to breathe, observing him turn a shade of purple and giving his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Of course, Marcus needn't have worried - Missy and you got on like a house on fire.

Laughter began to flow naturally, and conversations unfolded effortlessly. The tension in Marcus's shoulders eased as he witnessed his daughter and new partner finding common ground, especially in teasing him, it appeared.

Marcus smirks as he places a plate under Missy’s nose.

“Heart-shaped, chocolate chip pancakes? You trying to woo me, Dad?”

“Just showing the love for my amazing daughter.”

“Why, what are you after?” Smiling, she pours the raspberry syrup over the stack.

“Nothing. Just want you to know how special you are to me is all.” He mumbles quietly with pink cheeks frazzling under his thick rimmed specs.

"Your love is causing me to gain five pounds." She muses.

“What’s that?” He asks, nodding over to the skin on her shoulder now revealed as she ties back her hair.

She glances down at the rather large and angry bruise and back at her father’s concerned eyes.

“I can handle it, Dad.” She reminds him as he visibly tenses.

“I know. But I’m always going to worry. Even if you are a Moreno badass.”

She laughs and then sighs, pulling her cardigan on and covering up the bruise. “Comes with the territory, right?"

He nods, sadly. "It does."

Missy picks up her fork to dig in and then hesitates. "Did you... did you ever have those days when you thought about throwing in the towel?”

Marcus nods again. “All the time.”

As Marcus reminisces about his past, memories of battles lost and wounds endured flood his mind like unwelcome guests crashing a solemn reunion. There were moments etched in his memory with the vividness of fresh lacerations - times when victory had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving behind scars that ran deeper than mere flesh and bone.

“How did you keep going? How did you… find the strength?” She sighs and Marcus can only helplessly observe the features of her own face, young, but carrying that weight of the world is starting to age her quicker than he would like.

He remembers the deafening roar of explosions echoing in the night as he fought valiantly against insurmountable odds, only to find himself battered and broken, his spirit and pride bruised more than his body.

There were battles where the enemy's strength seemed limitless, where every blow landed with the force of a freight train, threatening to crush his resolve beneath its weight.

In the aftermath of defeat, Marcus found himself questioning everything he had once believed in. The wounds he bore were not just physical; they were a reflection of the doubts and insecurities that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

He considered putting away his katanas many, many times, walking away from the life of a hero and leaving behind the chaos and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake.

But even in the darkest moments of despair, a flicker of hope remained - a stubborn ember that refused to be extinguished. It was the memory of those he had sworn to protect, the faces of innocence that haunted his dreams and whispered words of encouragement in the depths of his despair mid-fight.

Marcus leans over the counter on his arms and pinches a raspberry from Missy’s plate.

“For you. I wanted to make the world a better place for you to grow up in. Safe.”

Missy smiles like a dim bulb about to burn out as she eats. “You did a pretty good job of that, Dad. I've had some big shoes to fill.”

He smiles, running his tongue around the raspberry pips now lodged in his teeth.

“You’re doing great, kiddo.”

He reaches for another raspberry and she bats his hand away as he chuckles.

“You know, you’re the only man who's ever gotten me flowers…” She says a few minutes later, eyeing the fluffy heads with a slight dip on her face, and Marcus can’t help but furrow his brow in unison.

Missy looks up at her father with twinkly eyes that mirror the melting chips in the pancakes. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Te quiero mucho, mucho.” (I love you very, very much.) He nods as they eat together.

“I should get going-” Missy states after she finishes her plate, which only seems to be after a few hefty shovels.

“No, stay.”

“As much as I love being a third wheel, it’s Valentine’s Day.” She reminds him.

“Hey.” Marcus takes her elbow gently. “You know this is your home, you're always welcome here, no matter what. I always want you here.”

“I know. But you guys should do the whole love thing today. Alone.”

“What about you?” He asks, concerned at the thought of Missy sitting alone in her apartment on the most love-filled day of the year.

“I’ll be fine.” She assures with a tight smile. “Might see if Miss Starlight or Renegade wanna hang. We can all be lonely and miserable together.” She snorts.

A thoughtful pause follows before Marcus tentatively broaches the idea. "Have you ever thought about giving online dating a try? You know, like the dating app profile you made for me? I hear it’s all the rage these days."

Missy raises an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on her face, "Dad, are you suggesting I join the world of swipes and emojis? Because that ship has long sailed. I’m knee deep in dilfs on the regular." She grins.

Marcus chuckles nervously, "I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Probably best.”

“Well, I mean, it's one way to meet people. You might find someone who appreciates your eloquent wit and charm."

“Don’t forget the potty mouth.”

“That too,” he smiles. “I know what it’s like. Being the world’s hero leaves you somewhat… lonely. I don't want that for you.”

Missy nods contemplating. “I’ve been giving it some thought.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you two seem really happy together. I guess I miss having that sometimes.”

Marcus, feigning surprise, replies, "Really? Well, I guess you can thank your old man for staying on top of the trends and leading by example."

Missy rolls her eyes playfully, "Oh, I will, Dad. You're my dating app guru now."

“Hardly.” He scoffs.

“This is true, you lucked out on round one. You didn’t get to kiss any gnarly toads or do the walk of shame.”

“The walk of shame?”

“I'll tell you about it when you’re older some day,” Missy quips with a grin.

There’s always a subtle restlessness, a physical awareness that manifests in the anticipation of your next meeting.

The memory of your kiss lingers on his lips, he can still taste you long after you're gone, and the mere thought of your touch again sparks a warmth that courses through his veins, burning him up from the inside.

His body has changed so much, and yet you make Marcus feel like he’s young and nubile again when the butterflies begin to flap around, and that tingle surges deliciously down the length of his cock.

With a sense of heady excitement and a touch of mystery, Marcus decided to plan a special surprise for you for Valentine’s Day.

One that he hopes you won’t forget in a hurry.

He arrives at your place, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and the breath torn from his lungs as he beholds you opening the door with that gorgeous smile just for him.

Every time he has the chance to see you again, whether for a planned date or an unexpected visit, Marcus feels a powerful surge run through him, making his fingers crackle with a pulsing intensity that makes them buzz almost uncontrollably. He doesn't bother shaking the feeling away anymore, instead he revels in it.

The moments leading up to your regular reunions are filled with a blend of eagerness and a touch of nervous anticipation, as if each meeting holds the promise of uncovering something new and extraordinary.

In those stolen glances and shared moments, Marcus discovers that missing someone can be a beautiful ache, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you, absent hearts and all that spiel.

An ache that is soon satiated when you open the door and smile at him like he’s the only man in the world.

His lips find yours almost instantly as you grasp onto his broad shoulders in the doorway, the pair of you almost toppling through in your desperate haste. The soft groans that escape him makes your blood throb inside your veins.

His tongue slips into the comforting home of your mouth, and you feel it over every nerve ending in your body, tingly and visceral. And not just from his crackly fingertips.

“Hey you,” you eventually manage to sigh into his plush mouth, feeling the silk of his greying beard smoothing against your cheeks.

“Hey, mi Dulzura…” (Hey, my Sweetness) he murmurs dreamily as he plants delicate kisses along your jawline and inhales the scent of your perfume. It’s the vanilla and jasmine one he likes so much when he can smell it lingering on his pillows.

He’s all hands and enthusiastic smooches the moment he sees you. Unable to abnegate himself away from the basic needs of touch and affection that you give back to him in equal abundance.

You can't get enough of one another.

You feel his large hands squeeze your hips gently, and your body flares as he pulls you in closer to him, crushed right up against his stacked, warm chest as he kisses you more with a heated groan.

Reluctantly pulling away he suggests, "How about we go on a little adventure today? I've got something special planned."

“You spoil me, Mr Moreno.” You cluck, running your hands over the soft leather jacket adorning his arms.

“Always,” he confirms with a grin. “You look great, so beautiful,” he says, eyeing your tight jeans and pretty floral shirt combo.

“As do you, you scrub up well.” You marvel at the jeans, leather jacket and green t-shirt he’s casually adorned in, pulling tight in all the right places. You stroke over the soft swell of his tummy as you lean in for another kiss.

He pulls something silken out of his pocket and you glance at it with raised eyebrows. “May I?”

“Kinky shenanigans planned on my doorstep?” You query as you allow him to blindfold you. “The neighbours will love that…” You giggle.

“Even better,” he whispers into your ear salaciously.

“You hound.” You swipe out playfully to him, but miss when you can’t see anything at all now.

“Woof.” He growls, pausing to nip on your lobe and revelling in your desperate whine in response.

After a short drive through town, Marcus finally pulls up. "Trust me, you're going to love this," he assures as he guides you out of the car.

He carefully leads you along a path, each step heightening the sense of anticipation. As you walk blindly, his arm around your waist, and your hand holding tightly onto his other, you can feel his own sense of excitement as it buzzes into your skin with those pleasant tingles and crackles.

“Just a little further.” He assures as he pushes open a door and you step through to inhale a moistness in the air; a balmy heat that’s different from the outside that settles into your pores.

“Where are we?” You question with a jaunty, excitable tinkle. For a moment, the smell reminds you of a swimming pool.

“Just wait…” You can hear him grinning.

When you reach your destination, Marcus removes the blindfold, unveiling the breathtaking scene of the Austin botanical garden before you.

The vibrant colours, the fragrant blossoms, and the serene atmosphere creates a picturesque display that leaves you in absolute awe.

You’re surrounded by flowers in abundance, the scent of them driving you wild as they all scramble to make you smell their perfumes first. You’re even more stunned to find it all completely empty.

"Welcome to the botanical garden.” Marcus says, tucking the blindfold into his leather jacket pocket. “It’s one of my favourite places.”

“Wow!” You smile, turning a full three-sixty as you take it all in. “You know, I’ve always been meaning to come here. I don’t know why I haven’t before…”

“I thought we could spend the day here," Marcus announces with a grin. “Look,” he points over to a small set up of a picnic on a grassy area under an intricate arch of purple orchids in the shape of a heart.

“Looks like a giant purple heart emoji.” You smile at him.

He nods, eyebrows wiggling above his specs.

“You really know how to romance a girl,” you smile, stroking under his chin.

“I booked this place out just for us.” His hands slide down your lower back pulling you into him. “We’re completely alone…”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We have the whole day here, if we want.”

“I want. Very much.” You nod and pull him forward by his lapels for a deep kiss.

“I don’t know what to say,” you smile, cupping his cheeks and gliding your nose over his. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi Dulzura. Feliz Día del Corazón.” (My Sweetness. Happy Heart Day.)

He kisses you, gently nipping onto your lips as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers as you stroll together along lush pathways, surrounded by an array of captivating plant life.

The Orchid Pavilion, the base for your picnic, is adorned with hanging baskets of intricate orchids, showcasing a kaleidoscope of colours - from delicate pastels to vibrant hues.

After eating together, an array of home baked, sweet treats Marcus had prepared himself, you wander through a section adorned with curtains of exotic orchids, and Marcus can't contain his enthusiasm as he takes on the role of your personal tour guide.

A role he takes very seriously, much to your amusement.

"Did you know orchids have a fascinating way of attracting pollinators? Some mimic the appearance and scent of certain insects to lure them in. It's nature's way of flirting, I suppose." He rambles excitedly.

You chuckle, finding Marcus's nerdy fascination endearing. "Flirting through flowers, who would've thought? Tell me more, Mr. Botanist."

You continue your fascinating journey, hand in hand, and Marcus points out a cluster of carnivorous plants.

"These are pitcher plants. They have specialised leaves that form a pitcher-like structure to trap insects. It's like having a tiny garden predator."

“Have you got these in your garden?” You query, peering into their tube-like structures, like tiny trumpets in the grasses. He has so many of his own plants it's hard to remember them all.

“No. I do have a Venus Fly Trap though. She’s very bitey.” He nips on your neck making you yelp as he walks you forward.

“Ah. Audrey II, of course.” You smirk.

“Of course.” He muses.

As you reach a serene pond surrounded by water lilies, Marcus shares another tidbit.

"Water lilies close their flowers at night and reopen in the morning, and they…. what?” He stops to look at you quizzically, noting the expression spreading over your face. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”

You shake your head smiling, all teeth bared at him. “You're so sexy when you geek out.”

He blushes beet red and smirks. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we get to the cacti garden. I will be insufferable.”

"Hot." You chuckle.

You meander through a section dedicated to succulents and cacti, where the desert's resilience takes centre stage. The ground is adorned with various prickly shapes and sizes, from the elegant arms of Saguaro cacti to the whimsical arrangements of succulents that seem to defy gravity as their spiky tendrils reach towards the sky.

The sun bathes this arid landscape in a warm glow through the high glass ceilings, casting shadows that play on the pebbly, sandy ground like a dance of desert spirits conjured by mystical forces.

“You were right, it’s pretty awesome.” You say.

“Not as awesome as you,” he whispers, kissing you again.

A serpentine path leads you to the Aquatic Garden, where more water lilies float gracefully on the surface of a tranquil pond. Golden Koi Carp glide beneath the water, adding a splash of movement as you both sit by it chatting.

The reflections of the surrounding greenery dance on the water, creating a mirror-like effect that seems to amplify the selection of plant species all around you. You dip your fingers into the pool, the fish swimming curiously around at a safe distance, and Marcus watches with a smile that makes his cheeks ache.

“You like butterflies?” He asks you.

You nod, smiling as he takes your hand and leads you to the Butterfly Conservatory, a whimsical space alive with fluttering colours of Black Swallowtails, Red Admirals and Cloudless Sulphurs.

Thousands of butterflies dance around, their delicate wings creating a haze of hues that add an extra layer of enchantment to the garden that stuns you into silent giggles at such a place.

“I wish I could fly sometimes.” You smile as the butterflies flit around, some landing on your sleeves as you admire their delicacy with a splendid awe.

You bring your arm closer to your face, your nose wrinkling in delight as the tiny butterfly shows off its wings just for you.

“Funny you should mention that.” Marcus teases.

You eye him carefully. “What do you mean?”

“I have something else planned for you today. If you’re up for it?”

“I’m always up for it.” You smirk.

“Come on.” He takes you by the hand once more and leads you towards a garden that’s outside and full of roses in every shade of pink and red that exists on the colour scale.

“This is stunning,” you say, slowing down as you take them all in.

Akin to being lost in the Queen of Heart’s gardens, it takes you a few minutes of wandering back through the maze of rose bushes, interwoven with clusters of pale lavender hydrangeas, to find Marcus handling some belts and clips near a device you’ve never seen before.

“Is that what I think it is?” You question with wide eyes as you notice the large contraption hovering just a few inches above the grass, whirring silently.

It has two large circular fans and belts that lead from it to Marcus’s waist as he clips himself securely into it.

“You wanna fly?” He queries and you nod enthusiastically, feeling a surge zap through you and your toes tingle in your shoes.

You feel him navigate a similar belt around your waist, willingly holding your arms out. He runs his nose against your neck as he does it, and you hear him groan in satisfaction as he inhales.

“Mouth watering...” He murmurs as he kisses your skin and your feel it pulse in your core as you clench around nothing.

You watch as he clips your belt into his and tugs against it.

“Are you ready?” Marcus asks you as you step closer to him.

“No.” You giggle.

“Do you trust me?” He questions with a serious face, thumb stroking down your cheek.

You nod looking into his deep, cocoa eyes. “With my life.”

Marcus smiles at that, wrapping his hands around your waist. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, smiling.

"You’re not afraid of heights, are you?

“Bit late to ask me that now,” you chuckle, and so does he. "Are you going to run me through the pre-flight safety checks?"

Marcus smirks. "Hold onto me. That's it."

"Well, shit." You cling onto him as the whirring starts to get faster, the blades of grass blown out into flat circles, and you can feel the belt cinch tighter around your waist as it lifts you both off the ground.

“Oh my God!” You clutch onto him tighter and he chuckles softly. “This is really happening!”

“Let’s go see the city.” Marcus smiles, placing a kiss on your head.

Once a soft breeze, the wind grows more ferocious around you, your body becoming free from the reassuring surface of the world.

The wonder in your eyes grows to questionable proportions, and you’re soon completely bewildered at the fact that you're really flying.

He tips forward in a smooth motion so you’re both lying horizontal in the air when the device reaches the desired altitude.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly as he propels forward with a simple push of his upper body, steering, as you both zoom off towards the Austin city skyline, your giggly gasps ringing in his ears.

Your eyes meet his in wonder as you grip onto him tightly. “Marcus! We’re flying!”

You feel like you’re shouting over the wind whipping against you, eyes wide and gleaming at the sight of the city approaching in a block chart of colour and twinkles of lights.

It feels colder, but being crushed against his body keeps you warm enough. You’re too exhilarated to feel any change in body temperature.

You brave yourself to look at the sky above sinking into an inky twilight of orange and cerise hues as the sun sets.

“Welcome to my world,” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

You feel his grip lessen and glance at him with alarm, but the look in his eyes convinces you he’s not going to let you fall.

He simply reaches for your hand with one of his, and you drop subtly beneath him, the belt keeping you close as he takes your other hand and you’re spread out beneath, back against his chest, arms wide as they can go as he holds them out parallel with his.

“Oh shit!” You gasp as he flies you both faster, curving and twisting around the breadth of the skyscrapers; your giddy reflection in the mirrors of the glass windows ara a blur as you pass.

You don’t notice when he lets go of your hands, his arms around your waist instead as your own arms stay out in front of you as you rip through the air.

“Better than the butterflies?” You hear him call.

“So much better than the butterflies!” You laugh, almost hysterically, as he loops back towards the botanical garden, after a few more laps around the city.

As soon as you’re back on the ground in the rose garden, a wave of adrenaline surges through you, and you lunge at him with shaky limbs, almost knocking him off balance.

A melody of gasps and breathy pants puff out of your mouths as you kiss frantically through tinctured groans. The whimper in the back of his throat conveying more than words ever need to about his desire for you in this moment.

Marcus unclips the belts, yanking them off of the both of you with a fumbling fervour, glued at the mouth with you. Clumsy kisses, teeth clashing against one anothers in your mutual haste, as you push his leather jacket down over his shoulders and his fingers eagerly untuck your shirt from your jeans.

“That was incredible,” you gasp into his mouth, unzipping his jeans.

“You’re incredible,” he groans as you take his swollen cock in your hand, squeezing and stroking gently as you lavish kisses over his bronzed neck.

“Oh God,” Marcus moans.

Subtle flicks of your tongue leave him gasping, his hands running through your windswept hair as you make tracks over his chest littered with sparse, greying hairs as you both tumble to the grass and push his t-shirt up further.

Tasting all the way down his sternum and lingering over the soft paunch of his tummy, a place you always nuzzle against, he glances down at you with a bashful smile.

Then a gentle nibble on his hips before your tongue wanders into the small, neatly trimmed thatch of hairs around the back of this thick, weeping cock.

“Oh, please…” he whines biting down on his lip.

You lick up from the base of him, your eyes transfixed on his as he gasps, watching you run up the full length of him to kiss the top of his leaking head gently. You stroke his thighs and he parts them further making room for you as you settle into making out with his cock.

You’ve mastered the art of taking your time with him, enjoying the sounds that flutter out of his mouth as you take him deeper and deeper. Those unbridled whimpers as you suck fill your ears, and you swear you’ve never heard a more perfect sound escape him.

It's when you take him all the way down is when he loses his calm, polite composure.

“Fuck!” Marcus gasps, his head lolling back. “Mm, just like that…”

You smirk to yourself as you feel fingers knotting in your hair and subtly tugging on it.

“Yeah… so fucking good. Oh my God… Yes.” He pants.

You let him have free reign over your body too, as he buries two fingers inside you and licks you to orgasm. His favourite place is between your legs, his second is a garden. When the two collide, it's even better.

“Marcus, please…” you pant, words tumbling from your mouth as your legs shake.

“Tell me, tell me what you want, mi Dulzura.”

“I want you inside me.”

“Right here?” You feel his buzzing fingers plunger deeper, stroking on that spot that makes your thighs shake harder as you feel the tingles ramp up. “You want me filling you up, hmm?”

“Yeah.” You pant as he circles your clit. The heavy throb undeniable on it from the crackling in the tip of his thumb.

“That feel good?” He smirks.

You fist the grass, tearing blades from it that stick to your palms as you grasp his face, fingernails digging into his skull behind his ears as your exhale and puff into his face.

“Oh my God, yes, Marcus!”

His glasses dig into your cheeks as you strain and wail, your breath fogging them up a little.

“Come for me. Come all over my fingers, come on.” He chants watching you, foreheads crushed together as he zaps and strokes harder inside you.

“Come, mi Dulzura. ¡Dios mío, eres tan malditamente hermosa!” (My God, you're so damn beautiful!)

The Spanish whispers send you over the edge. “M-Marcus!” You cry out, squeezing around his fingers as your whole body shakes; tingles flooding all over and making you feel like you’re still flying, all the way up there in the pale lilac sky above you as your eyes roll back into it.

You feel him kissing over your neck, humming softly muffled words of praise and desire into your skin as your slick coats his fingers just like he wanted.

"So fucking perfect for me," Marcus croons.

“I need you.” You whisper.

“God, I need you, too.”

His large, perfectly sculpted nose crushes into the side of your jaw as he fills you; your gasps and whines echoing around the rose garden as he slides into your utterly drenched pussy.

He loves how the stretch of you around his cock brings you to orgasm almost right away; a few gentle thrusts as you adjust to his thickness, and you’re shuddering for him, coating him in your slick before he plunders deeper with that gentle, rhythmic pounding.

He loves how you're completely insatiable for one another, despite the ravishes of age rendering your bones heavier, your paces slower.

Despite it all, you still embark on a journey of a healthy sexual appetite, even if you both have to navigate it with a little more preparedness sometimes; it still rocks your world.

He still has it, and so do you.

“You feel so good,” You whisper to him as he nuzzles into your face. The wind of his hips into yours, hits you at the perfect angle, again and again.

“We feel so good together,” he breathes with a smile. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. I don't think I’ll ever stop getting enough of you.”

You kiss him again as he thrusts a little harder, a little faster.

The vulnerabilities of being so exposed, so spread before him like this, revealing all the parts about yourself you’ve scrutinised scathingly in the mirror with abhorrence, fade away.

It’s all those wrinkled, stretched, sagged parts of you that he worships with his crackly fingers and tongue. He spends time appreciating them, fawning over them and lavishing them with the attention they so thoroughly deserve as he rolls with you so you’re on top now.

How you watch as your less-than-perky breasts tumble into his face as he pulls them out of your bra, but he licks and suckles at them as his cock notches against your hole and he groans out as you sit on him fully. Running his tongue around those stiff pebbles unabashed, sucking them into his mouth as you grind on him.

“Come for me…” Marcus pants as he watches that dreamy glaze settle into your eyes as you ride him; that glittery feeling about ready to burst out of your pores as he pushes up with his hips to meet you. “Need to feel you soak me.”

“Oh shit, I’m coming!” You shake on top of him, gasping. Head thrown back as you rock and grinning as you see stars explode across the sky above you.

Yeah. Marcus Moreno has still got it.

“That’s it, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna come too! Fuck! Fuuuck!”

Marcus stiffens, his whole body tenses as his hips jerk, and he fills you up. Floods you until he's dripping warm and pearly out of you, all over his soft belly, as you lean upwards to kiss him some more.

Afterwards, as you both lay in the grass half dressed and satiated from the highs of flying and your lovemaking, Marcus reaches up above you both, plucking a single, red rose from the bush and hands it to you.

You sniff the fragrant petals and smile at him with glittery eyes that wander over his face looking back at you. You run the rose head gently over his cheek and he smiles, and you think you've never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

The way he’s looking at you right now literally renders you mute and unable to breathe.

But he's a tempest under that sweet smile.

He’s felt it for a while now, that tether between you becoming tighter, knotting into something unbreakable and deepening, but he finds himself grappling with a gnawing worry - one that whispers doubts in the quiet moments of contemplation.

He fears the weight of those three simple words that are on the cusp of his tongue: I love you.

It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of his emotions; rather, it was the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of how those words might alter the delicate balance of your relationship.

Is it too soon? Is it too much? Is it foolish at his age to even begin to allow himself the same giddy excitement he felt when he was much younger? Would uttering those words irrevocably change the dynamic between you, shifting the fragile equilibrium you had both carefully cultivated?

There's also the fear of rejection, of laying his heart bare only to have it met with silence or crippling hesitation. What if you might not feel the same way yet, or even at all? That his declaration of love might drive a wedge between you rather than bring you closer together causes a reaction within him that makes him physically tense.

“I can feel your heartbeat speeding up,” you say, regarding him quizzically with your hand already resting on his chest. Little fluttery pulses thrum under your fingertips.

Looking at you gazing up at him, a mixture of awe and concern, Marcus knows he has all he’s ever wanted and needed right here in his arms, and he can't deny the truth that simmers beneath the surface of his hesitations.

He loves you with a fierceness that defies logic - defies gravity, even. A love that transcends the boundaries of time and space. And as he grapples with his fears, he knows deep down that the only way forward is to take a leap of faith, to trust in the strength of your forged connection that grows stronger between you every day.

He decides he has to be bold. To be brave.

To be heroic.

“I love you. I-I’m in love with you.” Marcus says softly, wrinkled almond eyes swimming with a mix of euphoria and worry. “Be my Valentine?”

You reach for him, stroking your fingers in the soft silk of his greying jawline.

“También te quiero, Marcus.” You say, before he grazes his lips across yours. (I love you too, Marcus.)

“You learned some Spanish.” He whispers in awe, pulling his smile wide and eyes glistening behind the lenses of his specs.

“I figured I should. After all, I wanna understand all the special things you whisper in my ear.”

“Sólo las cosas más especiales, y sucias, para ti, mi amor…” (Only the most special, and dirty, things for you, my love.)

“Yeah, I’m not fluent.” You chuckle as he kisses you, pulling you over fully onto his body where he crushes you against him.

“Yet,” he smiles, as he sucks your bottom lip into this mouth for a deep kiss.

“So, are we flying home, or…?” You ask.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie now, hmm?”

“What can I say, you’ve taken me to new heights, Mr Moreno. I might become addicted.”

“I already am.” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

“We should go soon, someone might find us?”

He shakes his head. “I told you, we have the whole place to ourselves, for a little while longer anyway. What do you want to do?”

You smile at him, devilishly.

“Make me fly again…” You whisper, as you feel his re-hardened cock dipping into your sticky folds.

You push back as he slips fully inside you, hips bucking up to fill you full of him once more, and Marcus does exactly what you ask of him; he lets you fly.

Thank you so much for enjoying this story! I'd love to know your thoughts and would really appreciate a re-blog too so others can enjoy some Mature!Marcus Moreno. Isn't he just dreamy? Happy Valentine's Day! 🖤😘

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#pedro pascal x reader #marcus moreno x reader #pedro pascal #marcus moreno #pedro pascal characters #mature!marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fluff #valentines day #jett's writing

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davidlcki · 1 year

Text

scared together

this is part 2 to “payment”! read part 1 here.

pairing: medium honor arthur! x female reader

warnings: cursing, game typical violence, age gap, lots of blood in this for some reason, female pronouns used. let me know if i missed anything!

summary: after showing up at the van der linde gang, you needed to earn their trust. in the process, you notice arthur distancing himself from you. will you figure out why, or have to head back to your family, who pawned you off in the first place?

words: 7,331

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“come on dutch. with the pinkertons AND oddriscolls, we need anyone we can get. we need to put trust in some folks.” you kept quiet as you stood outside the tent, listening carefully. dutch let’s out a rather large sigh and you can hear him pacing around the tent.

“you sweet on her or somethin’? she don’t know how to shoot. she’s a farm girl! hell, she could even be working with them for christ sakes!”

“oh jesus, she’s not, dutch! i told you, there’s no way she’s a spy. it’s too random. she was originally payment from that family, remember? she’s just lucky i don’t like strauss enough to care.” you frown at his words. was that really the only reason he let you go? “i’ll teach her to shoot. don’t you worry.” arthur pushes his way out of the tent, and before you could move his chest collides directly into you.

“what the…” arthur’s initially angry tone quickly diminishes as he realizes that it’s you. “you spyin on me girl?” a teasing smile appears on his features as he looks at you with amusement. you were speechless, opening and closing your mouth like a bass out of water as you struggled to find some sort of explanation because, well, you were spying. arthur didn’t seem to notice your hesitation as he continued to talk.

“this is perfect timing actually, why don’t we go practice shooting some bottles? always good to know how to use a gun.” arthur wasn’t really asking you as he placed his hand on the small of your back and directed you to walk with him.

“i only shot a gun once, you know…” you trail off, trying to shake away the memory of the man you killed to save arthur.

“well, it wasn’t half bad, the way you killed that feller. got him right in the skull. best to aim for their heads, most sure way to kill ‘em.” you shudder to yourself at the thought of killing more people the way you killed that man. you and arthur stop about 15 feet away from a large rock.

“we’ll do it here.” you watch as he places a few bottles and pieces of fruit on the rock, then he comes back and hands you his pistol. he watches as you take a few shots, which whiz into the woods somewhere with a high pitched zing, not even close to the bottles. arthur watches with seeming enjoyment as you huff and try to fix your stance.

“this funny or somethin?” you glare at him teasingly.

“a little bit” arthur laughs, pushing off the tree he was leaned against and finally stepping in to help.

“here, first you need to relax your shoulders,” arthur places his hands on your shoulders and pushes them down to a relaxed position. “now, your feet should be like this.” he lightly kicks the inside of your feet until theyre further apart. meanwhile, you could hardly think about anything but the warmth of him being so close to you. “now your arms… should be like this” arthur leans forward, completely pressing his chest against your back as he wraps his arms around yours to position them correctly. you take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on shooting and not the way you could feel muscles flex against you. he leaned forward so his mouth was by your ear and his voice was low as he spoke. you noted how he smelled like cigars and whiskey, and you hated how it started to become a comfort for you.

“now when you’re shooting, you wanna breathe in, exhale, and pull the trigger. only ever shoot on empty lungs. got it? now, line up the sights,” arthur nudges your arms up, then places a hand on your chest. you were sure he could feel how fast your heart was beating at the contact. “now inhale… exhale… and shoot.” you can feel arthur nod against you as you inhale and exhale, and when you squeeze the trigger the bottle in front of you explodes into thousands of pieces. arthur laughs again as you jump at the sound.

“good, good girl.” arthur stays for a second more before reluctantly stepping back, releasing you and letting you continue your practice and get a feel for the gun.

you quickly got sucked into it, determined to shoot everything on the rock. you were always willing to learn a new skill, and if this was what it took to join the van der linde gang, you’d do it until your aim was perfect. after a while of frustration, learning to control your breathing, and lots and lots of bullets, you obliterated all of the targets. the grass below the rock was littered with glass and chunks of mushy apple. you turned to arthur with a grin, ready to joke about how you were prepared to be the best gunslinger in town, only to find he was fast asleep.

you stood for a while, observing his sleeping body. you weren’t mad, in all honesty you were shocked he slept through all the shooting. he was leaned against a tree with his head down, chin resting on his chest. his hair has clearly not been brushed in a few days, but it somehow still looked perfect, falling a few inches above his shoulders. you leaned down slightly, looking at him from under his hat to see if he was really sleeping. he was. you were in awe of how long his eyelashes were and just how overall perfect he was without trying. in this state, he looked peaceful. you decided to leave him and go talk to dutch. you ignored the untrusting glares other camp members gave you as you weaved your way throughout the tents. you thought about how badly you wanted to be a part of something like this. you wanted to be laughing and drinking around the fire with the others. but first you needed to earn their trust. especially dutch, you wanted him to like you. he was the leader, after all. you found him at his tent, nose in a book and music playing softly in the background.

“hi, dutch” you stand before the man who acknowledges you with a grunt, reluctant to put his book down. “i just wanted to let you know, uhm, shootin is going well, i’m really getting it down. i just want to know if there’s a way that i can earn a little more of your trust.” now, dutch was looking up at you, brows furrowed as if he was searching for a lie to catch you in, for any reason to kick you out of his camp. you expected him to yell, but in the end he seemed to approve of your words as he started to pull a piece of paper from his pocket.

“yeah, why don’t you go head into rhodes? we need a few things for camp.” dutch hands you a small list and some money. “if you wanna earn our trust, this is a good start. there’s a spare horse over that way.” you nod at dutch with respect, and you couldn’t hide the smile that crossed your features as you thanked him and practically skipped off towards the horse. you felt like dutch was giving you a chance.

the trip to rhodes was easy. you got in and out with no issues and managed to get everything on the list. you liked the small town, even with all of the rich snobs that littered the population. it was calm.

the ride back was quiet, at first. you hummed to yourself, patting your horse and taking in the beautiful scenery of lemoyne when you heard quiet commotion behind you. you peer over your shoulder, noticing 3 men who were eyeing you like hawks. nerves began to rise in your throat as you kicked at your horses sides, speeding up to a trot. the men must have noticed this as they began to call out your name.

“hey miss! you there!” one of the men came up besides you, a misleading smile was on his face. you said nothing as you slowed to a stop and looked at him. the other two came over as well, you were surrounded.

“you look familiar… yeah, yeah! i seen you around not long ago with… what was his name? arthur, arthur morgan. that’s you right?” your heart sank as the man eyed you suspiciously, waiting for an answer.

“no, no. i don’t know of an arthur morgan.” you shake your head quickly, heat rising up into your face.

“no… that’s gotta be you. you just join the van der lindes?” another man questioned as they look at each other, and another one chimes in. “why don’t we take her to colm? see if he recognizes her.” you instantly recognized the name, as you heard dutch speaking about colm just the other day. you knew you weren’t supposed to be causing commotion around rhodes, but you needed to escape. your hand found arthur’s pistol that you kept on your hip and you made sure the odriscolls saw.

“i advise you let me keep on going.” you looked between the men carefully, trying your best not to show your nerves as you straighten your back. one of the men scoffs a laugh at your warning and began pulling rope out, and that was your last straw. the last thing you wanted was to be tired up again.

instantly you drew the pistol, shooting at the man with the rope. to your surprise, you shot him square in the forehead. time seemed to move so quick that you didn’t even get to see the odriscoll hit the ground. another gunshot went off, and your horse bucked you, sending you flying into the dirt. there was a warm, dull pain spreading through your abdomen, and when you looked down you noticed a gunshot wound that went straight through your side. everything started to spin as you tried to look for your gun, but the men were quick to jump off their horses and make their way to you. a string of vicious curses escapes your lips as you helplessly kicked yourself away, but it was no use. not a second later, you were knocked unconscious with a boot to the face.

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this was truly not the way you thought joining the van der linde gang would go. you were tied to a tree at an odriscoll camp, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that you seem to somehow get yourself into situations that involve being tied to trees. you couldn’t really remember the first day you were here, most of it was spent in between consciousness and trying to remember where you were. today, however, you remembered. you sucked in a shaky breath as colm walked back over to you. your head felt heavy and it felt like you were filled with wet cement.

“you’re going to tell me where the van der lindes are at. NOW.” you flinched as colm screamed, giving you a glare that could pierce holes through your flesh. you avoid eye contact and decide to stay silent. you don’t think you really had the energy to speak anyways. colm dosent like this, and delivers a smack square across your cheek. you let out a yelp and continue to squeeze your eyes shut. the smack shoots adrenaline throughout your tired body, giving you the energy to keep conscious for a little while longer. tears begin to drop, rolling down your stinging cheek. you didn’t think you were tough. not like any of the other van der linde members. you we’re afraid you’d buckle under the odriscolls torture. the only thing that kept your mouth shut, was the desperation of wanting to earn the gangs trust. you wanted to be a part of them, and you didn’t want to see any of them hurt or killed by these monsters. colm spits at your feet and scoffs with anger.

“when i come back, you better have some information for me, otherwise you’re dyin’ by my knife, girl. unless you bleed out first.” your mouth stayed shut as you watched him laugh and walk away through vision blurred by tears. you were afraid that no one was coming for you now. you knew people had to be wondering where you were, but did they care enough to come rescue you? does arthur care enough? hell. it had to have been almost 2 days now. your legs were going numb from standing for so long and the side of your dress was stained dark red with dried blood. you were having severe doubts. after all, arthur was not so kind to you just a week ago. why would he all of a sudden save you now? for the next hour, you hazily watched the sun set through the trees as you prayed for someone to save you. your wound needed to be tended to, and soon. you wouldn’t make it through another night. when the sun was barely lighting the sky anymore, colm came back over to you with a knife in hand, spurs jingling. roughly he holds the knife against your neck and you try your best to tilt your head away from him.

“last chance. tell us where they are, or you’re dead.” your mind seemed to run a million miles per second. if you told them where the van der lindes are and you somehow still escaped without being killed, they would never trust you again. you would have nowhere to go. and if you didn’t rat, you’d die, but the gang would be safe. it was crazy, giving up your life for a gang you just met not long ago, but you’d made up your mind. anyhow, you almost wanted him to kill you. to end your suffering. you close your eyes and prepare for the knifes blade to slice you open, ending you right then and there, but it never came. slowly you opened your eyes, realizing colm was staring at you, almost looking through you, the knife was held steady at your throat, drawing a little bit of blood. you quickly realized he was listening for something. slowly, he peered out into the trees behind you, and before he could speak, an arrow flew from the woods, straight through his shoulder. you watched, dumbfounded as he stumbled back, dodging a second arrow as he slid out of sight and back into camp. you craned your head to the side as much as possible as you attempted to see who it was, but you couldn’t.

suddenly colms men came rushing from the camp, firing wildly into the woods at the attacker. bullets we’re flying mere inches from you, and you flinched when one would graze the tree. you realized any of them could kill you in an instant, though they were preoccupied with the threat in the woods. suddenly, bullets began whizzing out of the forrest the same direction the arrows came from, and you heard familiar voices. colms men began dropping like flies, and the rest that were alive began to turn and flee the camp. upon hearing arthur’s voice, you dropped your head in relief, letting out shaky sobs.

“hey… Y/N? jesus…” arthur’s voice was panicked and soft as he ran up to you. he grabbed your cheeks with his gloved hands and tilted your head up to look at him. though you were crying, you managed to give him a smile. blood trickled from the corner of your mouth as you spoke.

“you found me.” you remembered the man who shot the arrows name, charles, and you must have thanked him a million times as he cut the ropes that held you to the tree. the second the ropes slid to the ground, however, you realized you couldn’t really stand anymore. your legs buckled, and arthur was quick to catch you. you let out a hiss of pain as he lifted you bridal style into his arms. the bruises and cuts on your body screamed at every movement and it was causing the world to spin. you grabbed onto his shirt and breathed deeply through the pain.

“i didn’t tell them anything”

“i gotcha honey. just breathe. don’t worry about that right now, you did good okay?” arthur whispered to you as he lifted you onto his horse as gently as he could, then hopping on behind you in the saddle.

“m’ bleeding a lot” your voice was slurred as you looked down at your blood soaked clothes, the movement reopened your wounds that were trying their best to heal. you were struggling to sit up straight, using all of your might to not fall forwards in the saddle. arthur notices this. without second thought he snakes his free hand around your waist, pressing firmly into the gash in your side to stop the bleeding while also stopping you from falling completely forwards. a loud moan of pain escapes from your lungs as your blood seeps out between arthur’s fingers and onto his saddle. your hand landed on top of his, an instinctual reaction as you resisted the urge to pry his hand away from you.

“lean against me darling.” his words snapped you back into reality for a moment. his voice was smooth and calm, keeping you from freaking out. you listened to arthur’s instructions, leaning your body weight fully against his chest and laying your head back against his shoulder so it wouldn’t fall forwards. every bounce of the horse, every shift of arthur’s hand, every breath he took, put you in agony. it was nearly unbearable at this point as you galloped towards camp, and you soon began to violently fade in and out of consciousness. you tried to say something, but the words just wouldn’t form on your tongue. the second the camp came into sight, you were out cold.

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when you opened your eyes again, you were back at camp in a cot. carefully you observed your body, noticing you were in a clean night gown and wrapped in a few bandages.

“oh, take it easy now.” an older woman with a large hairdo you couldn’t quite remember the name of rushed over with a wet cloth in hand. she gingerly pressed it against your forehead and sternly instructed you to relax.

“arthur… where is he?” your voice was hoarse as you coughed the words out, and you greatly accepted the canteen of water that she handed to you.

“don’t worry about that now sweetheart, just relax.”

“grimshaw! she awake?” you noted her name as dutch came into the tent. he gave you a pat on the shoulder, not noticing how you winced in pain at the contact as he continued.

“you could have given us away, but you didn’t. for that, i thank you.”

“yeah, of course, dutch.”

“you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like. i don’t trust you fully yet… i cant, in a time like this, but you have my respect.” even through your pain, you were satisfied, and a smile sat on your face for the rest of the gloomy day. the only other person you saw that day was mrs. grimshaw occasionally, but otherwise you were alone. left to do nothing but watch the tent flap gently with the breeze and listen to the distant chatter of camp members around the fire.

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the days swept by in a pain induced haze, and before you knew it, it was the evening of day two. grimshaw carefully helped you up to a sitting position, insisting you needed to move around a little. it was excruciating, but you did it. slowly you walked through the tent flaps, an arm slung around grimshaws shoulders as you did so. you kept your eyes trained on the ground as everyone stared at you like you were a freak at the carnival. with the sun beginning to set, mostly everyone was back at camp, fixing themselves a bowl of pearsons stew and settling around the fire. grimshaw helped you sit down against a log by the fire, instructing you to stay still as she ran to get you stew. you scoffed to yourself, as if you could get up and do anything anyways.

slowly, you lifted your eyes to inspect who was sitting around the fire. you remembered a few of their names, bill, javier, who strummed on his guitar gently, and of course, arthur. he was sitting to the right of you on a log, uncomfortably avoiding eye contact and taking a swig of whiskey. you leaned towards him slightly as you tried to get his attention.

“hey, arthur.” you say his name, and he looks at you nonchalantly. there was a terrible rasp to your voice and you imagined there was a twist of pain on your face, but you gave him a small smile. arthur huffs a hello towards you and stands up quickly. you watch him, confused.

“wait,” you tried to rise to your feet, but he was gone. a sudden flash of pain ripped through your side as you sat back down. it was hot, and spread outward the more you tried to move. you looked between the other men around the fire.

“what’s wrong with arthur?”

the men just looked at you, shrugged, and went back to whatever they were doing before. the strumming on javier’s guitar continued. at this time, grimshaw came back with a bowl of soup for you. you scarfed it down quickly, ignoring the stares you got as you did so. you were upset and confused on why arthur would all of a sudden not even look at you. you took it he was drunk, but still.

you asked grimshaw to help you back to your tent, deciding you wanted to hide away from everything for the night.

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you hadn’t heard or seen arthur since that evening. it was late the next day now, which consisted of mostly sleeping, eating a bowl of soup, and thinking about arthur. you felt you were going crazy. you tried your best to get out of bed again, but your body wouldn’t allow it. you could practically hear your limbs screaming to stay down, so you tried to do so though you were restless to know what was going on with him and why he was suddenly acting so weird around you.

there was an inner battle going on inside you as you laid on your back uncomfortably. your body ached and screamed, though not as bad as a few days before. you needed to see arthur, and you were upset by the fact that he still hadn’t came to see you or ask if you were okay even once. you wiped the sweat from your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling of the tent.

you couldn’t tell how he felt about you. it was constant mixed signals from one day to the next. you decided you needed to get up and out of this tent, now.

you knew it had to be late by the fact that reverend stopped his drunken singing and the music from dutches tent had shut off a while ago. you took your time getting to a sitting position, and you observed the stitches in your wounds to make sure nothing had torn. then, you rose to your feet, inhaling sharply as you did so. it hurt, a hot, searing pain, but your determination to see arthur pushed you further.

upon exiting your tent, you realized that it was REALLY late. the fire had died down, only a dim orange light was emitting from the burnt wood, and everyone’s tents were closed. you eyed arthur’s closed tent across the way before limping your way over. once there, you slowly pushed the flap open, revealing arthur fast asleep on his cot. his breaths were slow and even, and he looked content, no anger present on his features. now, you were debating turning back. you didn’t want to wake him, but you also felt like you couldn’t hold back your thoughts anymore. after carefully weighing your options, the thought of going back to your tent without answers convinced you to step inside.

instantly, you were infatuated with the little items around his tent. you picked up a photo, noticing it’s date and name, beatrice morgan, 1870. you smiled at the fact that despite being such a hard and tough man, he kept a photo of his mother on his nightstand.

next, you noticed his journal, on the chest by his bed. you contemplated for a while, not wanting to be nosy but also wondering what the hell he was constantly writing in it. maybe you could find some answers without you having to be confrontational. slowly, you picked it up. you flipped through the pages, mostly finding little sketches and observations, until you get to one of the last pages. you nearly let out a gasp, catching yourself at the last second before alerting arthur of your presence. there was a beautiful sketch of you taking up one page. on the other, was a passage about you.

“i know i should be visiting her right now. she almost died keeping our camp a secret for christ sakes, but i can’t. after what happened in valentine, i’m not sure she feels the same as i do. i’m a fool, afraid to fall in further than i already have.”

you were so focused on re reading this passage in arthur’s journal, you almost forgot you were standing in his tent. that was, until his rough grip was on your wrist and there was a knife at your throat. instantly you dropped the journal, locking eyes with him in a panic. you muttered an ‘im sorry’ that came out barely audible in your shock. arthur quickly realized it was you as he blinked sleep from his eyes. he lowered the knife, although not letting go of your wrist as he swiftly rose to his feet, his frame towering over yours.

“what you think you’re doing in here, huh? you readin my journal?” his voice was rough and deep with sleep and irritation as he walked you backwards until your legs hit his dresser. you kept your head tilted up at him as you spoke, never breaking eye contact.

“i wanted to come talk to you since you’ve been pretending i don’t exist.” you kept your voice even, clenching your fist in pain as he kept his crushing force on your wrist. a hidden anger seemed to begin to bubble within you.

“this dont seem like talking to me. the way i see it, you’re trying to rob me, rob all of us, and make it outta here a rich woman.” you could smell the alcohol on his breath from earlier as his voice continued to raise.

“search me! i ain’t take shit. i’m sorry i looked through your journal, it was wrong. but really, i did want to talk to you.” your voice comes out in a growl more closer to an animals than human. you hold in your pain as arthur grunts and pats you down rather roughly, hands gliding over your cuts and bruises without a care. when he’s done, he stands up to make eye contact with you again.

“i don’t know if i can trust you, girl.”

“if i wanted, i could’a killed you in your sleep. but i didn’t. i don’t have a single thing on me but the clothes on my back.” arthur runs a hand over his face, stepping back from you and looking down at his journal on the ground. it was still open to the page you were looking at.

“that’s nothin. i wrote that drunk.” your heart crumpled a little as he spoke. what did he mean?

“what? what are you saying?”

“i’m saying, what i wrote there don’t mean nothin! it’s bullshit. if that’s what you came to talk about then you’re- you’re wasting your time. now get out of my tent. now!” you physically flinched as his voice rose with each word. you knew he was obviously very angry with you, and possibly still a little drunk, but it still hurt. it hurt that he wouldn’t give you the time of day, and is now telling you the feelings he had were bullshit.

“so… you drag me all the way here… to tell me what you felt is bullshit.” it came out as more of a statement than a question. your voice was shaking with anger and betrayal, and you could see arthur’s face fall slightly as he realizes what he’s done. fresh tears fall from your eyes as you look at him. his features continue to soften as you hold eye contact with him for a moment. neither of you spoke, a silent exchange was held between you both.

“you won’t see me again.” with that, you turn and exit the tent, ignoring arthur as he called your name. you kept his pistol, and took the spare horse, riding quickly and fiercely from the sleeping camp.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

you don’t know how long you were riding from camp, but it was a while. long enough that you assumed you were somewhere in new hanover. you slowed your horse to a stop in the middle of a large plain, deciding to give her a rest as you hopped off of her gingerly.

the way the grass, as soft as feathers, tickled your skin as you sat down was comforting. the sun had just began to rise, leaving a faint orange hue in the sky and over everything you could see. this is exactly what you needed. peace, silence, no arthur. your heart was threatening to shatter the more and more you thought about what happened a mere hour ago. how dare he? he uprooted your life, dropped you in valentine, and when you came back after him he decides he dosent want you anymore. you knew he was drunk, and angry, and it was wrong of you to snoop through his personal items, but did he mean it? you were conflicted and you needed to get out of your head.

as you laid back fully into the grass, you began to count the faint stars that were beginning to disappear in the sky. they looked like punctured holes in a piece of paper. you didn’t know if you were coming back to camp. we’re you really never going to face arthur again? never to look into his icy blue eyes or feel the comfort the came with his scent? for a while, you let your thoughts drift aimlessly. most of them revolve around arthur and if you were really never going to see him again. the angry half of you said to hell with him. he deserves it, after all that he’s done to you, but the other half of you wanted you to go back, back to his unforgiving presence.

you let the wind roll over you, it was the prefect temperature outside without the harsh sun. you could probably stay like this forever. relishing in the warm comfort of new hanover, and for a while, you closed your eyes and pretended you were back home. home with your mother and father, who would never trade you off to a gunslinger in trade of a paid off debt. when the only care you had was when you’d read your next book. tears unwillingly fell from your eyes, rolling past your temple and dripping into the shell your ear and into the flowy grass. you were so in your head that you didn’t notice the sound of hoof beats approaching until it was too late. your eyes flew open with the speed of light, and you were quick to place a hand on your- well- arthur’s gun. that’s when you realized who it was.

“arthur” you greet him as casually as possible, pretending you didn’t hear the waver in your voice, a threat of more tears to come.

“Y/N,” arthur steps off his horse and stands awkwardly, fiddling with his gun belt. you could practically hear the cogs in his brain as he thought of what to say. you rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t think of anything on the ride here.

“look, i’m sorry”

“oh, you are now?” your response was quick and shocked you as it came out of your mouth. arthur frowns, looking off at something in the distance as he continues.

“i’m- i was scared.” he turns his head to make eye contact with you again, and you could tell he was genuine. the way his brows furrowed up into a look of distraught was something you never thought you’d see on his face.

“why? why now are you scared? you took me from my home, treated me like a toy, like i wasn’t human, and i’m still here, for you! and now, now you’re scared? i shoulda known this was a mistake, i’m a damned fool chasing after someone like you.” you stood up swiftly, whistling for your horse and brushing grass off your clothes as you avoided eye contact with him.

“please- don’t. don’t go.” you turned back towards arthur, lips pressed into a flat line as you thought. you could have sworn as you looked at him that there was the glint of a tear in his eye. it was hard for you to hold your anger with the gunslinger.

“i don’t wanna go, arthur. hell, i have no where else TO go thanks to you, but i’d rather be alone than sitting here trying to figure out what’s going on in that damn mind of yours.” during your rant, you had stepped closer to him. you pointed a finger roughly into his chest at the end of your words, and arthur took this as an opportunity to grab your hand gently. the contact effectively stopped you from speaking.

“i don’t want you to have to do that. im, i’m trying to figure out what’s going on in my mind myself for christ sakes,” arthur let’s out a dry laugh. “but what i do know, what im figuring out, is that i need you. when you were taken by those odriscolls it scared the living hell outta me and it, it made me wanna run the opposite direction. i haven’t felt like that in a long time, Y/N. my first instinct was to distance myself from ya. ”

“just because you’re scared dosent mean you have to push me away, arthur. how do you think i feel? i’m scared too! there’s nothing wrong with being scared together.” your fingers interlaced with his, and at this point, there was no going back. you were in too deep. even though you were mad at him mere hours ago, his touch, his words, made it disappear.

“can we try this again?” arthur was looking down at you desperately. you couldn’t say no. something in your gut was screaming at you, screaming that this was the right choice. or was your mind overcome by him? maybe this would be the worst decision of your life. you couldn’t tell. without another word, you leant forwards and pressed your lips against his. you could feel his shoulders relax as you wrapped your arms around his neck. there was a deep hunger that you could sense in him as he practically devoured you in his embrace. his hands were everywhere, his grip tight as he held you like there was no tomorrow.

in between kisses he began to mumble something you at first couldn’t understand. then you realized it was a string of apologies.

“m’ sorry. m’ so sorry. let me try again, please” his voice was nearly smothered by the attack of your lips, but you heard it.

“it’s okay, arthur. s’okay” you attempted your own response which came out about the same as arthur’s.

pain flourished throughout your side, reminding you of its presence as arthur accidentally grabbed it. you let out a quiet gasp of pain, causing arthur to quickly pull away, looking down at you with concern.

“did i hurt you?” his voice was breathy and deep, lips swollen as he spoke near inches from your lips.

“no… no” you spoke in between breaths, your own lips swollen and tingly as well. you moved in for another kiss, this time catching arthur’s bottom lip between yours in the process and biting just enough to draw some blood. arthur winces, pulling away, eyes large. his pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of his irises barely visible.

“what was that for?” he gives you a lopsided, confused smile, to which you return. his blood left a metallic taste on your tongue.

“everything” you shrug, not having much of a better explanation. arthur couldn’t disagree. he wanted to say that he deserved it, but the howl of a wolf in the distance pulled the two of you back to reality.

“shall we?” arthur tilts his head towards the general direction of camp, not eager to be out with the wolves, still prowling the early morning for prey.

“what? scared of wolves? id have thought you were john” you smile innocently as arthur rolls his eyes.

“shut up” he smiles, leaning down to give you one last kiss. before fully pulling away he takes your chin between his fingers and wipes a smudge of blood away from your lip.

“really, i truly am sorry,”

“dont. i know you are arthur. i’m giving you another chance. i don’t need to hear your sorry.” you give him a soft smile, showing you weren’t trying to be hostile when you say this. you both knew arthur had things to make up for and work on, and you were willing to give him another chance.

when you arrived back at camp, you were greeted with smiles and hellos. the feeling you felt inside your chest was indescribable. you felt like they were accepting you and that they were genuinely worried when you left earlier.

you spent the larger half of the day meeting everyone, trying to get to know them. even micah, who you learned only seemed interested in getting in your pants, so you decided to steer clear. you talked with mary-beth about books, planned to learn to hunt with charles, and you practiced your shooting on the outskirts of camp with sadie. you looked up to her immensely and you had to restrain yourself from straight up begging her to let you go on scores with her. she told you with some practice you’d get there. you knew you could put your knowledge from a lifetime on a ranch to use in the gang.

night began to settle again over the camp, and a peaceful silence had fallen over everyone. you’d spent the last half of your day fishing on the bank of flat iron lake a little ways off from camp. pearson had asked you to try your hand at fishing since you have some experience fishing from your father. you think of all the times you went fishing with him at owanjila lake which was right by your ranch. you looked up at the sky, wondering what your parents were doing right now. did they regret what they did? or were they happier without you? you shake away the thoughts with a heavy sigh, deciding to take a break from fishing to sit against a rock by the water. the sound of the water lapping against the sand calmed you in a way nothing else did. you were so in your head that you didn’t hear when arthur walked over to you.

“Y/N”

you nearly jumped out of your skin as you looked up at him. “jesus! you have a habit of sneaking up on me don’t you?” you shake your head as arthur laughs at your scare.

“you need to be more aware of your surroundings is all” he sits next to you on the sand, sighing with content as he leans against the same rock, shoulder brushing yours.

“any luck with the fish?”

“not the best, not the worst. i got enough for a few meals” you hold up the sack full of fish to arthur.

“must be your calling then! you can be the camp fish catcher.” you roll your eyes and bite back a smile as arthur laughs at his own joke. once his laughing stops, a silence settled over the two of you. for a while, the two of you sat quietly, watching as the stars appeared once again in the vast sky.

“hey, what i said in my tent last night, i hope you realize it was a lie. i was half asleep, and drunk, and confused, and i’m gonna regret those words every day of my life. what i wrote about you in my journal is true. it’s all true.”

for a while, you couldn’t do anything but stare at him. you were processing his words, processing everything. even though you knew it was true, hearing him say it was relieving. arthur started to look nervous as he stared into your gaze.

god, you could stare at him forever. the way his hair fell perfectly around his face, no matter how much dirt or sweat or blood is caked into it. the way his brows furrowed ever so slightly when he was deep in thought or writing in his journal. the slight twitch of his lips when he was trying to hold back a laugh. the almost jagged shape of his nose from being broken so many times. you loved every inch of him, every imperfection (though it was utter perfection to you) and every scar that riddled his body. you realized now, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

“i… i understand if you-“

you cut arthur’s sentence short as you leaned forwards a little too aggressively to smash your lips against his. it was all teeth, and the force at which you came at him sent him tumbling backwards. he instinctively grabbed onto you, pulling you with him so you landed on top of his chest. you let out an ‘oof’ as your chest collided with his, and you couldn’t stop the outburst of laughter that escaped from you.

“that’s funny, huh?” arthur began letting out chuckles of his own as a few tears escape your eyes, half because it was funny and half because the pain began gnawing at your side.

“shit… you alright?” arthur places a gentle hand on your wound, his features instantly morph into worry.

“yeah. i think.” you speak between breaths as your laughter died down. you were propped up by your forearms resting on each side of arthur’s head and you looked down at him in awe.

“i’m no good at this” your heart was beating quicker than ever as arthur looks up at you with a large grin on his face. he was taking in your features, just as you were not long ago.

“neither am i” arthur responds, running his hands thoughtfully up your back and to your jaw, where he pulled you in gently this time for a kiss. it was sweet, and you could feel the love behind it as his lips moved in sync with yours. the more time you spend with arthur, the more you realize how well you fit together. it felt like you were unlocking parts of him every moment you spent together. he was changing, you were beginning to see that. you figured he didn’t really have anyone to keep his head on straight, no one to talk to, no one to hold, and neither did you. even through the fighting, and kidnapping, and murdering, you were puzzle pieces.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

i got too excited and furiously revised this so i could get it out. i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! <3

#fanfiction #one shot #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x you #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur x reader

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frannyzooey · 11 months

Note

Hi Kelli! Tumblr errored out while I was sending this the first time so I think it didn’t go through but if you did in fact already get this feel free to ignore the duplicate! (Damn you, tumblr)

I really appreciated reading your thoughts on age gap a little while ago and had a follow up question for you. What are your thoughts on the idea I see circulating sometimes that age gap fics are alienating to folks who don’t want to read them or feel like they can’t identify with it? I never see myself as “reader” personally, but I know some folks do and would never want to perpetuate a problem or make anyone’s experience in fandom less cozy or welcoming. It’s definitely something that makes me nervous to post any of my writing (even the majority non-age gap stuff) especially in the Pedro fandom space, and I know the argument that everyone curates their own space and can choose not to read something probably applies here, but it still makes me hesitate.

I did not get this ask the first time! *shakes fist at tumblr*

FYI: the other ask, for reference ❤

So, I have not come across this particular sentiment but I have seen my fair share of hate on age gap for various reasons, and I wanna touch on a couple things in this ask because you are being so brilliantly vulnerable sending it in ❤

First off: the main thing I write is age gap: Weeknights, In the Dark, The Secret, Dave/Nanny, Dave/Intern, SDLN. Now let me tell you something else: I am 38 years old.

You would think that I wouldn't be able to identify myself in those stories because of my age: I'm not in college, I'm not in my 20's, I'm not some young, pretty thing. I also don't want to envision myself as a younger person, I also have nothing against aging and it's not because I secretly loathe older women.

It's the dynamic.

In truth, I find them soothing/cathartic to write about/read because they describe something that was missing for me at not only that age, but to some extent now as well: care.

To read about a situation in which an older person cares for and desires the younger one: that is something I seek out because I like it. I'm soothed by it, it's my favorite daydream, it's a situation that I have always been drawn to. I have always been attracted to someone experienced in the ways of the world taking care of me, in whatever form that takes shape in.

Will everyone in the fandom find it soothing? No. In fact, some might be triggered by it, or have their own life experiences that tell them it's inherently wrong, or like you stated above, for whatever reason they just don't identify with the desire to read about it.

However - I do. I'm not everyone, and I get that, but I write (and consume) for me, and for (hopefully) others who are like me to enjoy.

The act of sharing your work is a very vulnerable thing, and to pair that with posts about how some people will never be able to identify with the things you want to write about in a very shame filled manner of speech makes it even more scary, and I get that.

I really do, I've felt it and it’s a hard thing to have to see and feel.

However, in order to post online in any fandom, you sort of just have to say "self, this is important to me, so fuck it."

They can read it, or they can not: that's up to them. If they don't identify with it, then they can go seek out other media that they do identify with. If they don't like it, that's not on you. There are plenty of stories in which I don't identify with the reader for various reasons, but I either enjoy the fics for different aspects of the story, or I scroll on by.

I have a lot of opinions/theories on why people make posts like that but I won't bore you - at the end of the day, you create the content you want to consume, and don't let anyone make you feel bad about it. ❤

#age gap ask #if you want to chat about this more #DM me!#I’m very passionate about it lol

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sex-obsessed-lesbian · 5 months

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The Tale of SOL's Highly Mediocre First Hypnokink Play Partner

CW: mediocre consent practices.

I realized that I posted this on Twitter but never on here, so for anyone who hasn't heard this one before, buckle up for the story of SOL'S Highly Mediocre First Hypnokink Play Partner!

It's the fall after i graduated college, I’m starting to dabble in the scene, I’ve found hypno tumblr and am like “omg this thing I’ve always fantasized about is REAL and people actually use it for SEX???”, and I go to a nearby university's kink group meetup about hypnokink.

As part of the class we pair up and try some stuff. I pair w/ this guy—a college senior, he’s actually tranced to files etc. so he knows a bit more than me at this point about how this works IRL. He does a perfectly middling progressive relaxation induction on me.

I say “Oh okay i think i see how this works” and proceed to ZONK him because like, I'm a good top and have good instincts (and also improv training).

And after that, we proceed to meet up a few times as practice partners—I still live with my parents so I come over to his dorm and he exiles his roommate (Jesus Christ i thought I’d be done with this shit when I graduated).

So the problem with this situation is that I never got a proper pretalk or explanation of what trance did/n't feel like, what hypno could/n't do or make you do, how safety and agency work... So I was both SO WORRIED about doing things against my will or losing control, AND SO WORRIED about it not working on me, that i was unhypnotizable and couldn't do the thing. I can’t realllly blame him, he was as new as I was, but it was… not a great situation.

The thing I CAN blame him for was when I was said “I don’t want any triggers” and he was like “aww come on a reinduction trigger would make it so much easier” and kept wheedling me about it. Not a good look.

(OFC part of the reason he really wanted a reinduction trigger was because he (like me, at the time) only knew how to do 10-minute progressive relaxation inductions, lolsob.)

And I think both times we got together I was like “Dude I’m a lesbian, I'm here for kink practice and I don’t want to kiss or get physical with you” and then at the end he’d be like “Waah I want to kiss you!!”

Against my better judgement I went along with it cuz like, we’d just been doing hours of kinky shit and I was turned on, but like. Surprise surprise, I'm a lesbian. (Also he... wasn’t all that good a kisser. Shocker, that.)

The kicker is, after the second time this happens, he texts me to say “So i just found out i have mono” like SIR I DID NOT EVEN WANT TO BE KISSING YOU AND NOW YOU HAVE MAYBE GIVEN ME MONO???

He did NOT give me mono, turned out I already had antibodies, and I didn’t ever play with him or see him again, so it’s mostly a happy ending but like… bruh.

But on a more serious note, I... still carry some of that baggage with me. (Though obvi this is nothing compared to many people's genuinely traumatic or abusive first hypno/kink experiences and i don't wanna take away from that!)

Never having gotten a real pretalk, going into my first trance experiences so scared (in both directions), feeling like a """bad subject""" (b/c he wasn't great at dropping me AND b/c I didn't feel comfy with him)... has really stuck with me, unfortch.

I am still unlearning that stuff, and so thankful to all the FAR, FAR SUPERIOR hypnotists who have helped me in this journey. It's also why I'm waging a holy war against people who use the term "bad subject" or don't give proper pretalks.

No one should feel uncomfortable when exploring this kink! (Or like, as non-uncomfortable as possible.) I hope it's a joyous thing for as many folks as possible! And that's why I have SO many thoughts about pretalk and framing for new subjects (see e.g. my class notes on Setting Your Subjects Up for Success).

So ummmm uhh thanks for coming to my TED talk, treat your partners right and don't try to kiss people who've explicitly told you not to kiss them, there are more kinds of inductions than just progressive relaxation, stay hydrated! <3

🦈 FIN 🦈

#true stories #true story #stories from SOL's life #thinking about kinking #look y'all comfort and trust are soooo important #i just want everyone to have a good and sexy time

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lycanpunk666 · 2 months

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Update to the intro thing for tumblr’s tdmi. I’m not making this a public server because only like 2 or 3 people from the discord tdmi will be there, it’s link-only so that only you guys can get in

- 15+ (hard rule, there’s some massively dark shit here and there’s no way I’d be comfortable letting in anyone younger)

- There’ll be a verification system but it’s more just another screening to make sure I know what roles to give you. And also to make sure the server doesn’t get raided.

- There’ll be a trigger list. It’s important to note though that this isn’t other people’s triggers. It’s stuff there’s a possibility of encountering in the story itself. I am dead goddamn serious about this please for your own mental health make sure you’re prepared for emotionally taxing horror/tragedy.

- The rp itself is literate but there’s a bit of lenience for that definition. (5+ sentences minimum and we encourage you to write as much as you can)

- I’ll have a lurker role for those who don’t want to participate but do want to watch.

- There’s a linear storyline that is heavily affected by in character actions.

- There’s gonna be a non canon oneshot category for folks who wanna participate but otherwise can’t, or if their character’s dead.

- Anyway that’s all I can think

#tdmi #tdi au #monster island tumblr #tdi monster island

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assortedseaglass · 1 year

Text

Come Back To Me - Chapter Six

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, Trigger Point (TV) Spoilers

Author’s Note: Thank you for being patient with me while I write this chapter. So folks, here we go…

Word Count: 3.5K

Late afternoon faded into early evening, and London was once again coming alive. School kids, their uniforms disheveled, ambled home. Restaurants were setting tables and chairs outside their premises, a few punters already drinking Aperol Spritz and Bellinis. Cyclists sped past the unmoving cars, desperate to be out of the heat. Billy watched as a tourist stepped into the road, only to be shouted at by a man clad in lycra on a racing bike. He rubbed his face and felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.

Billy’d never known a hotter July. Usually, his birthday week was spent away from the city. Away from the noise of a crowded London, with heat emanating from every building and body. As a child his birthday coincided with the summer holidays, and his parents always took him and Lana away to the south-coast seaside for a week. Looking back on his childhood, Billy could measure birthdays in ice creams, sandcastles and beach barbecues. Last year, he had been moping over Becky, who had initiated the first of their many breaks. Ida drove him down to Dungeness, where an old boat house full of friends waited for him. There was Sofia and Faisal, Joe from school, she’d even managed to get a few of the lads from football to come down. They had fires on the shingle beach, cooking fish the boys had caught that morning. They drank until only embers were left in the fire. Talked until their voices were hoarse. Spent the mornings swimming in the cold sea and afternoons reclining on the hot pebbles. Looking back, Billy thought that was the last time he belonged anywhere; at the edge of the world with a few people that had chosen to love him. Now, he was alone. Sweating in London traffic as he drove to pick up friends he imagined didn’t even know his surname.

PING. A text from Lana.

Billy, where the hell are you? It’s not funny now. Police called saying you missed a meeting with them!? Mum and dad are going spare.

He ignored it. They’d called him yesterday, singing happy birthday down the phone before launching into a tirade about where he was. I’ve gone away with friends for a few days. Birthday bender. That’s what he’d told them, anyway. Somehow, he wanted the truth; that he’d spent the morning at Gwen’s before getting drunk and sleeping on a pub floor, to stay hidden.

PING

“Christ, Lana.” Billy was about to silence the phone when he saw the name on the screen. Ida.

Hey, I know you don’t wanna talk, but just give me a message to let me know you’re alright. Hope you had a good birthday, I.

Two things happened simultaneously. Billy’s heart fell to somewhere around his stomach, and his thumb reached out to press the call button by Ida’s name. He stopped. An image of her tear-streaked face looking up at him as he pressed his body against hers flashed in his mind. Instead, he called his voicemail.

You have no new messages, and one saved message. Saved messages:

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Billy, happy birthday to you. I hope you’re ok, Bill, wherever you are, and having a good birthday. Don’t get too drunk.

They laughed sadly.

I left your birthday present at the flat, I hope you like it. It’s Ida, by the way.

To play this message again, press one. To save it -

He pressed one and listened to her sing him happy birthday again. Listened to her sad little laugh. Listened to her clarify who it was, as though he didn’t know every inflection of her voice by heart.

On and on he drove, wending his way through thoroughfares and back alleys. With each turn in the road that took him closer to his destination, he tried not to think about Ida. Or his arrest. Or the disappointed looks of his family. He cranked up the radio, the bass thumping and causing the old car to quiver. Popping some gum in his mouth, he nodded his head to the music. He couldn’t let the lads see him being his usual pathetic self. This was a chance to reinvent. To leave the past behind him –

PING

Mate. Can you call me? I’m with Becky

Fuck. It was Lana again. Truth be told, he had had too much to drink yesterday, and by his 7th or 8th pint had made some questionable calls to his ex at the prompting of his new mates. Sure, Becky had treated him horribly and kicked him to the curb, but no-one needs voicemails of drunken shouting left on their phone. Billy rang Lana immediately.

“Billy!”

“Can you put Becky on?” God, he needed to apologise.

“Where are you? Sounds like you’re driving?”

“I’m driving to meet my mates. Let me speak to Becky.”

“What mates?” Thanks, Lana. “Anyone I know?”

Billy huffed in annoyance. “Just mates, Lana. Why? What’s going on?” He leant his arm against the window and rested his head on his hand. The traffic was slowing again, but no matter, he was almost there. A large group of people was up ahead, blocking the road.

“Listen, Billy, I’m not with Becky. I just needed you to call me.”

“You’re not with Becky?” He didn’t understand. “What do you mean? Why?”

“I need to talk to you. You’ve not been answering my calls, you’ve not been about,” Billy could hear panic in her voice and it only made him bristle more. Did they not think he could look after himself for one day? “Where are you driving to? Billy? Billy!?”

“Fucking arsehole!” A man shouted through Billy’s car window as he drove slowly through the crowd. Billy stuck up his middle finger and carried on. His mates were around here somewhere and if these tossers wanted to block the road then it was their problem, not his. A few people banged on the windows.

“Billy, where exactly are you?”

“Farringdon Tube Station,”

“Sounds busy, what’s going on? Billy, why are you there?”

He looked around at the signs they were holding. Antifa. Against the Far Right. All Are Welcome Here. Realisation was slowly dawning on him. Lana was still shouting at the other end of the line. “Billy! Listen to me. It’s important. What are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

“I was meant to meet the lads here. ‘Outside the tube’, he said, but I can’t see him. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

Lana sighed. “Billy, why did you drive? Was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mate asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.” The crowd were moving away from the car now, and Billy couldn’t see his mates anywhere. His voice grew quiet. “Yeah, he’s set me up, hasn’t he? They’re having a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads.” He smiled faintly, if only to stop himself from screaming. Abandoned, again.

“Billy,” Lana’s voice was hurried now. “These new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

“Lana, what are you on about?” He leant against the window once more.

“Nic. Nic Roberts!” Billy’s mind remembered the large man Warren had introduced him to. “He’s…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

The world stopped for a moment. The heat of the day disappeared and the roar of London died. He thought back to when Warren introduced him to Nic. His opinions were a little extreme for Billy but he had been kind, welcoming, taken him under his wing. Everything came back into focus.

“You’re winding me up,”

“Do I sound like I’m fucking winding you up!?” Lana screeched, though she sounded panicked, not annoyed. “Have any of them been near your car?”

When he’d told the lads about his car, Warren said he knew a guy, Tommy, that could fix it up. All the men had chipped in and called it an early birthday present. It was him who Billy had been driving to meet. When he gave no answer to his sister, she continued. “Look around. Is there anything different about it?”

“Eh?”

“For fuck’s sake, Billy! Listen to me! I need you to check the car for me, ok? Have a look under the steering wheel, or under the footwell, anything that you can see that might be unusual.”

Billy’s voice was small and distant when he replied. “Right, yeah,” His hands followed Lana’s instruction. He grazed them along and under the steering wheel. Nothing. Around the mirrors. Nothing. Under the radio, knocking over some rubbish as he did. Nothing. Under the passenger seat. Nothing. He lifted the foot mat…

“Lana, there’s some masking tape underneath the foot mat,” His breath shuddered as he heard Lana sigh.

“Alright, ok. Can you really carefully lift up the masking tape?”

Billy hummed nervously in assent, slowly peeling back the mat. “There’s…there’s a wire, Lana.”

“Can you see where it’s leading to?” Her voice was urgent.

“Erm, th-th-the glovebox.” Billy hands were shaking and his breathing ragged. He held the catch of the glovebox a while, preparing himself for whatever was to come next. Ida flashed into his mind, and he pulled the handle. “Fucking hell,” he shouted, edging away. “Shit, shit, shit. It’s hooked up to summat. Looks like a bomb.” Panic flooded him. “I’ve got to get out of the car.” He fumbled for the door but Lana shouted.

“No, Billy! Do not get out of the car!”

“If it explodes I’m done for, I’m gonna die,”

“Do not get out of the car! You just need to stay calm and listen to me, alright. Here’s the plan. You need to drive away from the Tube. The police are looking for a safe location.”

A horn beeping behind him made Billy jump, and slowly, he pulled away.

“Right, we’re gonna go to Cranstead Fields, Billy. You know the way, yeah?” Billy almost laughed at the irony. Of course he knew the way. Of course that was where he was going to die, he’d spent so much timing living there.

“Yeah, I know it.” He could see the lads from football that he had grown up with. His favourite tree to climb, and the best one to shelter under. The view from the opposite end of the field, back to his house. Ida on the swings with a can of cider in her hand.

“I’ll meet you there. It’s gonna be ok, Billy!” He rubbed his eyes to push back tears. Would it be alright? Did Lana really know? “When you get there, keep the engine running, alright? Don’t press anything, don’t open the door, don’t touch anything. Stay still, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

The first real waves of fear were beginning to wash over him now. “You’ve gotta tell mum and dad I’m sorry, yeah? And Ida,” His voice cracked.

“Billy, tell them yourself. You’re gonna be fine. I’m about five minutes away. Just stay calm, stay focused. I’m nearly there, alright?”

He nodded to himself, trying to brush images of his family from his mind, when a small beep sounded from the glovebox. Billy leant forward. “Shit, Lana!”

“What? What’s happened?”

“There’s a timer, Lana. There’s a fucking timer.” Eight minutes, counting down in red digits. “Shit. SHIT!”

“Listen, Billy,” Lana could hear his panic, hear him pounding the steering wheel.

“Fuck!”

“I’m gonna help you, I swear, but you need to focus, ok? I just need you to concentrate on getting to the park. You’re only a few minutes away. When you get there, drive straight onto the field and it’ll be fine, I promise. You’re gonna be safe.”

Billy’s phone vibrated. “Fucking hell, Lana, my phone’s gonna die.”

“Billy? BILLY!?” The line dropped and Lana swore. Somewhere not far away, her little brother was speeding towards Cranstead, heart full of terror and all alone.

Ida spent the rest of Billy’s birthday at her grandma’s house, helping her in the garden. When the Washingtons pulled into their driveway, she hurried indoors. Only hours before, Ida had told them they were a useless family, screamed in their faces and run away. She hadn’t mentioned this to her grandma, but when Gwen caught Val’s stony gaze following Ida’s retreating form, she surmised that the Washingtons had felt her granddaughter’s fiery wrath. It was no secret, that neither Ida, Billy, or even Gwen, liked the way the Washingtons treated their youngest.

Today, the pair were tackling the vegetable plot at the end of the garden, which backed onto Cranstead Fields. Her bare feet enjoying the warm dirt beneath her, Ida was busying herself with the sweet peas that stood next to rows and rows of green beans. She was tying them into small posies so that more could grow, while Gwen harvested a few of the courgettes and their flowers. Ida felt most content outdoors, working with her hands. She often imagined a life for herself, working as a researcher or teacher then coming home at the end of the day to a smallholding far away from the city. Chickens, a couple of dogs, flowers in the front garden, a sandy-haired man waiting in the doorway…

“Ida, tea!” Gwen called, placing a pot and two teacups on the garden table. They sat in silence a while, sipping their tea as Tiggy purred in the evening sunlight. The ringing of Ida’s phone broke the peace. Lana’s name appeared on the screen. Ida was in no mood to talk to Lana after yesterday; she needed some time to be by herself, to be selfish and put herself first. She cancelled the call. Immediately, it rang again. She turned the screen to her grandma, who read the name then raised her eyebrows. Ida gave her a look that clearly meant here goes, and answered.

“Lana.”

Lana spoke in one, quick breath. “Ida, Billy’s in trouble. These new friends of his, well, I don’t want to scare you, but they’ve planted a bomb in his car and he’s on his way to Cranstead-”

Ida’s scream was near silent. Horror was etched into every pore of her face. “A bomb?” she whispered.

“He’s freaking out. He might be there before me. Can you get there?”

A switch flipped in Ida, and the steely resolve that Billy loved so much about her leapt into action. “I’m at gran’s. I’ll be there.”

She sprinted away from her grandma and down the narrow path by her house. “Billy needs me,” she called back, and that was the only explanation Gwen needed. Barefoot, Ida sprinted towards the park, her cheeks burning, tears fighting to burst free and her breath roaring in her ears. Billy needs me, Billy needs me, Billy needs me, Billy needs me.

She saw him. That ridiculous old Vauxhall came speeding around the corner and disappeared through the park gates, closely followed by multiple police vehicles. Ida sped up, not caring about her feet which were bloody and battered from the pavement. Police tape was already up by the time Ida entered Cranstead Fields, but she carried on running until a policeman grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.

“Step away from the scene, miss,” he said, trying to restrain her as she kicked her feet.

“He’s my friend! Please!” She fought against the man with all her might. “Lana asked me to come, please!” Ida screamed until she was hoarse.

“Ida?” She looked up to see a stout man with dark skin and shorn hair. He was completely kitted out in dark uniform, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow.

“Has?” Before he could reply, the roar of an engine filled their ears. Lana’s car skidded to a halt, and she exited almost before it had stopped. She made a beeline for Has. Ida, still restrained by the policeman, listened to them speak in hushed tones.

“I’m worried he’s gonna bolt,” Has said.

“Get everyone back, I’ll speak to him.” Lana ran towards Billy as Has approached Ida and the police.

“Billy, I’m here.”

“Lana,” Billy’s voice was desperate. Weak. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, from heat or fear, Lana couldn’t say.

“Alright? It’s gonna be fine.” Lana tried to sound as reassuring as she could. Her heart was hammering in her chest, fighting the urge to open the door and pull her little brother into her arms. “Stay really still for me, yeah? I’m gonna look around the car.”

“You’ve gotta do something. Lana!” His gaze followed her as she walked around the car. He didn’t want to be alone. Not now. He muttered under his breath, phrases between stay calm and I’m gonna die. He looked to the timer. 3.26.

“I’m gonna get out-”

“Stay still! Don’t touch anything, I’m gonna check the car ok?”

“Just hurry!” He sounded like a child and Lana tried to recall her training. Focus. “How bad is it?” Billy asked as she came back to the driver’s window.

“It’s fine.” Lana’s voice was focussed.

“I can tell when you’re lying, man! How bad is it!?”

“It’s fine,” she tried to sound convincing.

“Lana!”

“It’s fine!”

“Lana,” he was starting to cry. Hot tears fell from his wide, blue eyes.

Ida watched as Lana prowled around the car and the other officers talked in hurried whispers. A man, clad head to toe in grey combat uniform, a gun strapped to his back with only his eyes visible, was speaking into a comms device.

“EXPO is at the device. Cordon secure, sniper’s in position.” Ida gasped and ran forward once more, only to be caught by the same policeman.

“Miss, I will not hesitate to arrest you if you do not stay behind this cordon!” An ugly sob rent itself from her lips. She watched Lana hurry back towards Has, and she stilled to listen to them speak.

“The timer, it makes no sense.” Lana said.

“Why?”

“How would the bombers know where he’s gonna be when the device goes off? I don’t get it.”

“A decoy?” Lana nodded and returned to Billy. Ida could hear her screaming to him through the window.

“Billy listen to me. Listen to me! Billy look at me, yeah!? The timer means nothing. They put it there as a trick so that you’d open the door. Can you hear me? Don’t touch it. Stay still. It’s gonna be fine. Listen to me. I’m your sister, ok? You need to trust me! I’m gonna go and get some stuff. You’ve gotta trust me, it’s gonna be fine!”

Ida watched as she ran back to Has and they resumed their discussion. Every now and then, Ida glanced to Billy in the car. He was rocking back and forth, anguish painted across his face. “Lana!” she called out, but Lana ignored her.

“What’s happening?” said Has.

“Billy’s freaked out by the timer, but I’m sure it’s a trap. I need to get him out but the driver’s side might be rigged.”

“Passenger side?”

“That’s where the device is. I don’t wanna risk it, they could have done all the doors.”

As Lana and Has continue to speak, Ida turned to watch Billy once more. He was screaming for his sister, the words indistinguishable but the fear evident.

“Let’s extract him through the rear window,” Has said, laying a hand on Lana’s shoulder.

“LANA!” Ida screamed for her to hear. Both she and Has turned to look at her. “He needs you! He’s freaking out. He doesn’t understand what your saying. Let me go!” She shouted at the policeman. “He needs you there.”

“Ida, we haven’t got the time-”

“He needs someone! Send me! I can calm him down.”

Has interrupted. “That’s impossible, love, I’m sorry. We can’t have civilians at the scene.”

Ida ignored him. “He doesn’t trust you, Lana. Send me!”

Lana stared at her for a moment. Ida was right. Before she could act, the solider in grey spoke.

“Trojan Five Four, suspect is unlocking the door.”

“BILLY!” Lana screamed. Without thinking, Ida broke through the cordon. Billy needs me. She sprinted towards the car. Billy needs me. She watched as Billy struggled inside. Billy needs me. In her periphery, she saw a sniper’s gun raise in her direction. Billy needs me. Lana’s voice drifted towards her on the summer breeze, barely discernible to her now.

“DON’T SHOOT!”

Note: Thanks for all your well wishes! I’m off work and drugged up, but writing this is getting me through. Not too long until the next chapter <3

Tags: @jessssica1234 @anditsmywholeheart @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @i-killed-ramsey @greenowlfactif @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @arcielee

#ewan mitchell #billy washington #billy washington x oc #trigger point series #aemond x reader #ewan mitchell x reader

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malevolentaroweek · 7 months

Text

Frequently Asked Questions

✦ How can I participate?

Create any kind of fanwork, post about it here and @ us using the appropriate tags! As long as it’s Malevolent and related to aromanticism/arospec identities, you’re good to go. Fics, art, cosplay, music, crafts, headcanons, etc; any and all types are welcome! We just ask that if you include an image in your post, please include an image description in the alt text or in the body of the post.

✦ Why aromanticism and not just queer?

While Malevolent is not an explicitly queer podcast, the show lends itself to queer readings, and as such has built an audience of predominantly LGBTQ+ folks. Due to the nature of the characters, the ways they relate to one another and their environment, we believe that particular respect should be given to arospec identities within the show, as in fandom such identities are typically overlooked in favor of romantic dynamics. The creators of this week are both aromantic and wanted to create an event that further explored those aspects of their favorite podcast :)

✦ Does it have to be strictly aromantic?

If you mean, does the content created have to be strictly and exclusively non-spectrum aromantic, then no. This event includes all kinds of aromanticism from all across the spectrum. You want to write a fic about John being grayro and falling in love with Oscar? Go for it! Wanna draw a comic about Arthur being a loveless aromantic? Be our guest!

However, we only ask that the main focus of the week be aromanticism and not other related orientations. Exclusively arospec content is rare in online spaces, and we'd like to change that.

✦ What if I don’t like a specific day’s prompt?

You’re welcome to go off-script and create anything you like as long as it relates to some aspect of arospec identity within the podcast. Posts off-script or without a prompt will be reblogged on the final day (Dec 10th.)

✦ What content is allowed/not allowed?

We encourage any and all varieties of fanwork and the content within it, as long as it remains on-topic and related to aromanticism. As the source material also deals with a variety of heavy and challenging content, we believe that listeners are well aware of their own limits and can curate their online experiences accordingly. That said, NSFW content and colloquial “triggering” content will be allowed and may be shared on this blog, as long as it remains in line with Tumblr’s policies, though we will do our best to tag accordingly; feel free to refer to our tag guide for examples. Any content that is discriminatory or categorised as hate speech (homophobia/transphobia, racism, sexism, ableism, etc) will not be shared.

✦ How does the pairings aspect work?

Alongside each day's prompt, we've added two suggested pairings of characters through which to explore the prompts. This is not mandatory, but if you’re unsure of what direction to take a specific prompt, those characters/pairings may serve as a guide to help you build a framework for that day. While the characters are suggested through “slash” pairings colloquially viewed as romantic, their involvement in a work can be through shipping character studies, or simply having the characters interact in some way.

✦ Will there be spoilers?

While we cannot determine what participants will create over the week, it is safe to assume that spoilers for episodes of Malevolent will occur. We will tag #malevolent spoilers for content related to the most recent episode(s), as Part 38 will most likely be out by the time of the event. Beyond this, it would be unrealistic to tag any content relating to spoilers for any point in the show as such, as due to the storyline, almost everything would be tagged as such. If you are concerned about spoilers, we recommend catching up to the show before engaging with content created for the event.

✦ Who’s running this event?

The creators of this event are Red @arthurtaylorlester and Finch @parkeryangs

✦ Have further questions?

Send us an ask! Anonymous asks are welcome, though if requested we can also answer user asks privately. (Asks being discriminatory/hateful/etc or that are harassment/spam will be deleted; we are trying to curate a positive, welcoming fandom space here, so please be considerate of that when sending inquiries.)

#maw2023 #malevaroweek #malevaroweek2023 #malevolent #malevolent podcast #maw resources

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cinnamonest · 1 year

Note

Some questions about the male majority AU

I just wanna know when the decrease of the female population happened like was it during thr archon war or after the archon war. Because I imagine some of the characters parents like Childe's are like if I have a daughter and a son, my son is legally allowed to fuck her? Like laws against incest is just throw out the window and the parents are just like to the kids "Back in my day you had to spend time getting to know the person blah blah blah blah" Ngl it's just funny and a concept I thought about like a parent had a daughter and sons and they have to hide the daughters identity from her brothers for her life

Tbh, at this point I was thinking less of an occurrence that *happened* and more, “nature is just this way.” It’s more about birth rate, in that for whatever reason, humans just tend to give birth to very disproportionate ratios.

This also makes it so that there’s a long standing history of things, where it’s ingrained and embedded in the culture from everything from legal matters to folk myth and literature and religion, and influences the way history transpires. History is more violent – back in really old times, cultures had a much greater incentive to go decimate whole villages of their enemies they would have otherwise spared and seen as not worth the hassle. Pillaging was a more common element of war, to round them up as war trophies of sorts. Even just in general, prevalent sexual frustration creates a society of more aggressive, hair-trigger-tempered individuals.

But yes, while it varies from culture to culture, and is still criticized by many, incest is much less frowned upon. I mean come on why would you go buy some girl you don’t know when you have a perfectly suitable mom right there? And why would you let your sister get taken away to some stranger when you could make her your wife instead? It only makes sense.

Really, the people that push against incest the most would be those who stand to profit off of incest being outlawed. See, if a wife is inherited or just taken from the family, that means there’s no sales tax, no fees paid for all the normal documentation and transfer processing. And likewise, plenty of rich guys out there being deprived wives. Both of these are tragic situations… hence why, usually, the only ones that engage in incest end up being wealthy individuals who can just pay off the difference and convince authorities to look the other way.

#.mmau #in.tg

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freyatarotreadings8 · 9 months

Text

AGE IS JUST A NUMBER. PERSONAL ISSUES

Today a random boy (around 16 y.o) stopped me on the street. He asked me to buy a newish stuff for his vape. He is under 18, so he can’t buy it legally. I agreed. He was so excited. Then suddenly his smile was gone and he asked “are you 18 years old?” , I answered “I’m much older than that. I’m 24”. He surprisingly replied “wow. you don’t look like that at all”.

Honestly, it’s so annoying to look like a teen, be 24 and be 35+ emotionally at the same time. I’ve always been way too emotionally matured for my age.

The whole situation reminds me of a scene from Twilight

– How old are you?

– 17

– How long have you been 17?

– A while.

I have ambitions and I know how our surroundings shape us. If your two friends are millionaires, so the third millionaire is you. I just wanna more. It’s a normal desire. So, it’s so freaking hard to connect with others. I can’t handle meaningless conversations with peers, I get bored quickly. Also I don’t want to be mommy for them. At the same older folks judge me by my youngish cover and don’t want to deal with such kid as me. They just don’t know who am I and what can I bring to the table. When 30+ people get know me better, they start to learn from me. Some of them become mad or jealous of my maturity and awareness (I don’t show it of), I become a trigger for them - an alive reminder that they wested lots of time doing meaningless things during their 20s. To tell the truth, not all older individuals are interesting for me, lots of them are lack of personal evolution and complexity.

I know that 10 years later I will love and appreciate my young appearance way more, and roll eyes remembering my previous complaints.

So, anyone who wanna be friends with me?

#mental age #emotional maturity #age is just a number #looking for friends #personal #look younger #hermit life #age issues #don’t judge by a cover #twilight

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ofhxrror · 4 months

Text

HIGHKEY missing all of my old oc’s that are currently taking space in the back of my mind and I keep thinking about them in their fictional little universes. I wanna ramble for a bit so below the cut are where I imagine them ending up at the end of their lives.

Ophelia Richards (hellstate--rp/hellhqs) - the apple of my eye and the love of my life ( my favorite child let me honest ), i wonder about her the most in her fictional little bubble. she was the most changed and better off them all so like i wonder how she would be fairing in the zombie outbreak of cheyanne. would the zombie’s have died off by now and would she have set up a house with a puppers ( maybe with a certain somebody??? ) or would the zombies be still around and would still be the redheaded rolling stone. i think the zombies would be dying off and she would have a little cabin, a small shop too where she would sell blankets and canned goods; also like two doggo’s that she would maim someone if they touched. maybe a noah ashbury in her life idk about that though- but like she would just be okay. maybe she found her little sister again and they live together. just OPHELIA HAPPY- ( i also hardcore crackship her with my other kiddo juliet kemp don’t fucking at me okay they make sense...kinda )

Juliet Kemp (hellstate--rp/hellhqs) - my broken bird ohhh my heart legit aches every time i think about her- like holy mother of GOD i ruined that character didn’t i??? she was such a fucking shit show of a human, like rick grimes level’s of bullshit happened to her. she’s from the same universe as ophelia so going off of the “zombies are dying off” ( i don’t like to think that zombies are supernatural creatures and hellhq lore was pretty clear it was some type of plague so...bodies...rot after awhile and yeah i could babble on about zombies rotting but imma stop because i know some of you guys are normal folks who don’t like to hear about that stuff. ) i imagine her as semi-okay, not AS happy or well adjusted as O but alive and sometimes..maybe even smiling. i can see her living in a big house with room for any kids she finds because that’s her weakness, she loves all the little kiddos and just wants them to be okay. honestly juliet is now your adoptive mom if you don’t have one at the end of the world. she would build gardens for food and paints the whole house to be happy for the kids. just peace is all i want for her and her head. but like lemme be honest she’s your wine mom because what she’s gone through ohhhh boi yeah she’s PTSD for life. ( but like also hi yes my crackship make sense here because them ophelia and her can like have all the outbreak orphan’s together and love each other???? no...yes??? )

Gabrielle Jackson (hellstate--rp/hellhqs) - ANGEL BABYYYY!!!! she wasn’t my favorite to play because she was so nice??? like i cannot be that nice all the darn time to people (also christianity turns out its a goddamn trigger for me.) but like after I had her get stabbed and lose all faith??? yeah she got easier to play for me, plus anytime I had her with her joker it was funny because oh boi she’s angry 100% of the time. but like in her future honestly she wouldn’t have one, gabby is super one of the muses I can see not making it in the new worlds. she’s clung to tightly to the ideals of a forgotten world so honestly I can see her kinda just dying? like I’m sorry not sorry- she’s so the type to get her ass stabbed trying to help someone. that or might end up on some type of mushroom hippie 60′s aesthetic to cope with her life just going to shit, smoking pot on a cute little farm far away from town and selling handmade blankets because that’s nice right? ALL I KNOW HER AND GOD NO LONGER SPEAK.

Penny Scott ( hellvt ) - speaking of not talking to god meet my angel child penny! ironically an actual angel, like sent from god wings and all, but hates the motherfucker with all of her being for kinda being a deadbeat father i guess. she’s what you would call a “useless lesbian” and honestly that trait I feel like she would honestly get better with as she spends more time on earth. I can see her ending up with a cute girl in a nice little cottage somewhere, but honestly she might pull a stupid and die protecting someone she loves? idk she has tragic written all over her because she sees the best in the world but the world is a shithole.

Nathlia Scott ( butterflieshq ) - MY ROLEPLAY AND MY KIDDO! i had to close it because health reasons so we never got to hear nathlia’s full backstory i had planned out and honestly i’m going to leave it up to ??? incase i get healthier and am able open butterflies back up one day but a possible future for the kiddo? she’s a missing person who is persumed dead her future is the up there with my bleak kids ( it goes kenzi, nathlia, and ginger ). but she either ends up dead, alive but in a mental hospital for a good couple years, or [ ERROR TEXT NOT FOUND ]....i thought i fixed that glitch oh well.

Kenzi Carlson ( ??? ) - my sweet sweet punk child who I loved with all of my heart and still cry over to this day, she was an early-ish muse of mine i believe from a scream inspired roleplay. she doesn’t have a future i can tell you that right now because she was canon fodder durning the roleplay when the admin asked if there was anyone who was willing to let their characters die and I was like sure! ( I now know I will never do that again I fucking hate character death scenes ). she ended up being killed in the same way her mother died and I was like ohhhh boy my sweet baby not even eighteen. so she’s stuck with me for some reason, i call her my ghost.

Ginger Adams ( ??? ) - My Ginger Fitzgerald inspired muse for an unknown horrror roleplay that i was apart of that never really got off the ground but it was nice while it lasted, she’s honestly my mess of a kiddo who i love so much but honestly once again i do not make happy people so on this girl is honestly a wreck. unlike ginger fitz from the movie, this ginger acidentally killed her sister in a fight and is on the run after her mother told her she would clean it all up ( which oof to that mom ). i don’t see her having a happy life after that- like honestly nothing good happening for her due to a. the ptsd of killing her sister/becoming a werewolf and b. the fact she is a werewolf. so honestly lets just mark her down as fucked up and move on.

#( killith talks. )#I MISS ALL OF MY KIDDOS #i would legit cry if i got the chance to play ophelia #but like wow do NOT PLAY HAPPY PEOPLE #i'm not the give happy a chance person am i ???#death tw #blood tw #anti religion tw #violence tw #drug mention tw #long post tw

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hargrove-mayfields · 11 months

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tag game, stranger things edition!

i was tagged by @thatgirlwithasquid and @intothedysphoria, thanks y’all, I really appreciate it! 💕

1. ride or die ship/otp : Hellcheergroveton! every combination in this ship is adorable and it has all my favs too ☺️

2. most annoying ship : m*leven. I am beyond tired of watching a young disabled girl be taken advantage of and have it be treated as romantic. El deserves to live partner free, and M*ke deserves to go in the whole garbage can.

3. second favorite ship : Hollogrove. Since it’s not part of the core hellcheergroveton relationship, I’ll branch out a little and bring in my girl Heather. I love her and Billy I’m a relationship and can totally see them spending the rest of their lives together ♥️

4. favorite platonic dynamic : Billy and Max, or Dustin and Steve. Or Steve and Gareth. Cause I headcanon Gareth as becoming Steve’s caregiver after the events of the show leave him with cognitive and physical disabilities

5. underrated ship : Hollogrove, Cunningway, Pompompineapple, Stonathan, Cheerscoops, Calicheer, Rockie, Stargyle, Cammy, Kegboys, Steather, Argilly, and so many more but I’ll stop there.

6. overrated ship : Any of the fruity four (it makes me wanna gag just typing it) ships. I haven’t looked in the fandom tags for a year because it’s oversaturated with passionless, factory produced, carbon-copy fanworks that look like Harringrove fics put through ai to be rewritten as St*ddie, or Buckleway into r*nance. I’m sick of it. It’s boring. I’ll come up with my own steddie content, thanks.

7. one thing to change in canon : Everything. Not even joking. I’m going blorbo shopping and bringing all my favs back to my dollie house to play fix-it.

8. something canon did right : Um. I guess letting actors put in feedback and details of their own. Like Millie choosing for El to touch Billy’s cheek, Dacre giving us backstory on Billy’s mom and also on Billy’s disability (BPD), both he and Joe Keery refusing the original scripts, Joe Quinn improvising Eddie’s crush on Chrissy, and so on. All of the actor choices are the only good things about the show at this point.

9. a thing I’m proud of creating for the fandom : @disabledbillyandsteveweek! There's more information about the event over on the blog, but basically it’s an event starting in about two weeks meant to highlight Billy and Steve as disabled characters, through all kinds of fan works and different ships!

10. a character who is perfect to me : Christine Renée-Beth Cunningham. Nobody compares to my cheer girl.

11. the most relatable character and why : Also Chrissy. She reminds me a lot of myself, especially how I was when I was still in highschool, being timid and struggling a lot with my mental health. I wish she could have grown and gotten help and felt better since I’m on my journey to doing so right now, but I’m forever grateful to have seen a character with an eating disorder and an abusive family on screen, portrayed in a heartfelt and generous way- all thanks to miss Grace Van Dien

12. character I hate most and why : Neil, Karen (actually just the Wheelers in general except little Holly), Brenner, Owens, the lady that shot Benny, literally so many of them. Anyone who intentionally and unabashedly hurts other characters without remorse.

13. something I’ve learned from the fandom : To be patient, because even when things seem tough or impossible, we can make it. Together, with friends who understand us, and who share our pain, we can fight and keep going! Especially because this community will always have folks who understand and have our backs, we just have to find them ❤️❤️

14. three tags I seek out on ao3 : I actually don’t read fic on ao3. The extreme amounts of severely triggering content hosted on that site is just too much for me and I can never seem to avoid it. I only post to ao3 because I know people find it easily accessible, but I had one too many mix-ups that led to me being in a terrible state of mind, so I discontinued using the site.

15. a song I strongly associate with otp and/or favorite character : I’ll never shut up about “Time in a Bottle” by Jim Croce. Conveniently off the same record as Hop has on Vinyl and Cassette, it’s my favorite song ever because it’s so tender and loving and even though it’s old people music yall should give it a listen. It applies to any ship, but especially packs a punch with Harringrove. Also “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John.

I’ll tag: @eddie-munsons-guitar86 @honey-tongued-devil @martianclown @hephaestn @jaylikesrainbowtigers @denkiddo1 @enchanted-day-dreams @stranger-themes-blog @ratbastardbilly @thinger-strang But there’s no pressure to do it! You absolutely don’t have to if you already have or if you just don’t feel like it! <3

#tag game!#billy hargrove fandom #not content #hey thanks again! it took me a few days but this was fun!!#love doing these things they’re always really positive and fun <3

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newsie-collective · 1 year

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Tommy Boy

Hi I know that technically Specs and Tommy tied But I didn't want to make any of y'all to wait any longer I'm so sorry to that one specific person who always reblogs our polls with Specs hype

T/W for transphobia & Refuge talk below the break

Quickfire Favorites

Food: “Pepp’mints! Really like the sof’ ones.”

Color: “Yella. Like the sun. N sunflowers.”

Season: “I don’ have a pa’ticler favorite season.”

Weather: “Sunny. I like sunny days ‘cos then I get to walk ‘round an’ hawk wit’ me fellas.”

Hobby: “Jacobi le’me help in the kitchen once. That was real fun. Wish he woul’ le’me do it again.”

Animal: “Do Blink count? I’on think I knows ‘nough animals to have a favorite.”

Memory: “Movin’ to Manhattan. Ev’ryone was real nice. Finch was gon’ fight ev’ryone that ain’t get my gender right.”

Comfort Item: “I don’t really got one. Ain’t never really had nothin’ to keep.”

Buckle up folks, this one’s real fucked up

Tommy Boy pretends to hate his nickname but it makes him feel fluttery inside. He rolls his eyes and groans and shoves Finch every time he says Tommy Boy/my main man/my home boy/anything else with boy or man. But it makes him giddy and excited

Because he’s a boy

And he knows all the others would fight for him

And that makes him feel real nice

Only knows how to solve things with his fist (but he and Albert are learning together)

He’s also still learning how to take compassion from the newsies. And how to not flinch when the others go to high five or hug him

Because non pain inducing hands on him is weird

He puts his hands in his pockets because he’s scared of hurting his friends or scaring them

He tells everyone it’s so he doesn’t get pickpocketed

Surprisingly good at cooking

Honestly dumb as fuck

Like most of the newsies have either street or book smarts

Tommy has neither

Puts the sexy in dyslexia

Thinks he can do no wrong

Not in a pretentious way

In a “I just learned I had dyslexia, something I’ve been angry about my whole life, but when someone explained what it was to me, it doesn’t bother me anymore. It’s just a part of me and that’s neat” like a psychopath

Just kinda very aware of the fact that no one is made perfectly, and has come to terms with that

Likes to pull pranks

No longer dumb enough to pull them on Elmer or Davey

Because they always know

And they know where he hides

And that’s not fair

He’s an angry crier. And he hates it. He hates crying, it makes him feel weaker than he already does when his emotions get the better of him

When he’s only a little mad, he yells to try and feel bigger (it’s a defense mechanism), if it gets worse he starts crying (even though he tries and fights it), and if it keeps getting worse he starts hitting things (he usually turns his anger to trees or punching bags. Inanimate objects. He doesn’t like hurting people), but it’s when he goes silent that’s the scariest. Because no one can tell what he’s thinking or what’s gonna happen. And he just stews in it

Loves music. Prefers music without words, but hates classical music.

When he gets affectionate, he likes holding people (and by people I mean Mush and Specs and Blink and occasionally Finch) but when he gets real deep in his head he needs to be held and his hair played with and just told that everything’s gonna be okay. His head is a dark fucking place. And he sometimes needs help finding his way out.

Jojo used to attack him with cuddles and hugs when he’d get too wound up

That earned Jojo several black eyes when they were first happening

“I love you Tommy Boy”

“Fuck you”

Flirty comments come easy to him. Except when it comes to his partners. They make him so nervous

Was really wary of Les and Davey hanging around, because they felt like outsiders, but Les once roasted Morris so hard that Tommy laughed for at least half an hour. He stayed close to Les when the brothers would come around.

He didn't wanna miss anything else the kid said.

Originally from Brooklyn, but they were too rowdy and angry, he kept getting triggered into panic attacks (and also a few of them kept deadnaming and misgendering him) so he moved to Manhattan

Most of the newsies that don’t know him are intimidated.

“That’s Tommy from Brooklyn… I hear they kicked him ‘cross the bridge because he was too wild for even Spot Conlon”

Doesn’t care about the rumors. He’s okay with intimidating the people he doesn’t know.

Real fucked up backstory shit:

His birth name was Tamsyn, and he had a twin brother named Thomas.

His brother was the first person he’d told about feeling more like a boy than a girl. And Thomas was so supportive of him.

And one day, Thomas disappeared.

Tommy’s dad wouldn’t tell him what happened, just that Tommy didn’t have a brother anymore.

And Tommy knew that he was in danger. And he ran away. He stole some clothes to blend in with the newsboys on the street, got sent to the Refuge for three months, where he was kept in the feminine section of the prison.

Tommy was originally sentenced to one month, but he fought against Snyder when he tried to take Bumlets away, once he realized what was happening.

He stood up for others in the Refuge who were getting bullied and abused by Snyder.

He ended up at the Brooklyn boarding house not long after his release. He’d gotten tougher and buff while in the Refuge, and he’d finally gotten some clothes to wear (and keep)

Not many of them were too kind about his transition. Spot had only just become a leader for the boys, and was still trying to get his regime under control. Hotshot was one of the kindest to him, and one of the few he told about leaving.

Spot, Hotshot, and Swipe were the only three he told.

He crossed the bridge to Manhattan, talking to Kloppman about everything that had happened, and moved in that same night.

He adopted his brother’s name in honor of him, but the others thought Thomas was too hoity toity for a newsie, so they called him Tommy.

And then he told them that he hadn’t always been a boy, and that’s why he got called Tamsyn and she a lot.

And so Finch starts his crusade to get everyone to call him Tommy Boy.

I hope y'all loved reading that as much as I loved writing it

Please no one mention how it's been not even a week and we already messed up our timing again

👻

#newsies #92sies #askthenewsies #carrying the banner #newsies of new york #livesies #king of new york #tommy boy #tommy boy newsies #👻

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emphasisonthehomo · 1 year

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Hey, I know you asked for asks about trans Danny (and I love your universe so much, don't get me wrong), but I was wondering have you ever considered trans Steve? He'd have had the rare opportunity to 'start over' when he's send away from HI, maybe he took the chance to transition? On the other hand, trans folks were banned from the military back then and we all know how the Navy made Steve the man he is. What path d'you think he could have taken if he was trans? Or would/could he have cheated his way into the Navy anyway? I'm curious but I know this is not your playground so feel free to ignore. Thx.

Oh darling, anything to do with transing a character’s gender is my playground, thank you so much for this question.

TW: for general discussion of dysphoria, this gets pretty heavy emotionally. And also personal, lmao.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about trans!Steve, and what I think a transgender narrative for him would look like. And this is any flavor of trans tbh, be that telling the story of Stephanie McGarrett, Steven McGarrett, Stef McGarrett, etc.

For all intents and purposes, Steve was raised by the navy. It’s a very intrinsic part of his character. For me it’s up there w/ Danny being from New Jersey. You can’t not make Danny a Jersey boy, just like you can’t not make Steve a SEAL. I’ve spoken a little bit about this being why I find it difficult to put Steve into different careers here, and I think it applies to this as well.

And you’re right re: being trans in the US military. There’s a long and complicated history of it either being banned or restricted, and it technically only became ‘legal’ in 2021. Even if I wrote a trans!Steve as a modern au like trans!Danno is, he would be unable to be out of the closet and be in the Navy. I don't think he'd be able to cheat his way in either, that's a pretty big To Do.

I do think he’d still have joined the navy, even if he was trans. I think he’d just have been in the closet about it. And it’s for this reason that imho trans!Steve would be one of those people who doesn’t come out and transition until they’re in their 40s or something. It would be the story of DEADNAME McGarrett going to Annapolis, becoming a SEAL, being the Navy’s Finest, Creating Five-0 and then much later, deciding to come out. Like post season 10 timeline coming out, I think.

Because Steve keeps a lot of his feelings crammed up inside his head and heart, and he stews over stuff, and he’s not emotionally open. He just isn’t. The Military Fucked Steve Up. John McGarrett, whether he meant to or not, Fucked Steve Up. All of the other shit's that's happened, has Fucked Steve Up. Steve opens up more over the progression of the show, especially w/ Danny, but he’s still an emotionally constipated nutcase in many ways.

Is this a story I’d ever write? No. There are a few reasons for that, and the main ones stem from my own Gender Experience™ and shit. It’s the same reason why Trans!Danno takes place when Danny’s in his 30s and has pretty much already transitioned socially/medically/etc. The story of Danny’s coming out and transition is glossed over, because if I delve into the depression and dysphoria aspect too deeply, I’m gonna start drinking too much again. Being closeted sucks, dysphoria sucks, the internalized self-loathing and shame sucks, and it is euheuheuheuheuheuh DEEPLY triggering for me.

Trans!Danno takes place after most, if not all of that, for Danny. Danny’s got the surgeries he wanted, he’s on T, he looks in the mirror and likes what he sees, he’s doing GREAT. Does he still have issues and insecurities? Well yes, because he’s human. But I am uninterested in writing about the emotionally darker and more upsetting aspects of trying to come out and transition, because I do this for fun and I don’t wanna bum myself out.

The story of Steve/Stephanie/Stef McGarrett, coming out and transitioning at the age of like 45/50 would be deeply sad in many ways. It’d be steeped in internalized transphobia, self-loathing, dysphoria, etc. Especially when you take into consideration Steve’s character and how he Deals with things emotionally. It’d also be a story of joy, of self-actualization, and all those other good things.

Are those stories meaningful and important? Absolutely. Would I personally write it? No. Because the journey to get to that joy would trigger the shit out of me. Is that everyone’s gender experience? Also no, but it’s mine and that’s the lens I’m approaching stuff from.

Excellent question! Thank you so much.

#aron's fic #hawaii five 0 #trans danno #trans steve

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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From Blood, Love and Courage - Chapter Four.

So posting another chapter a few days ago seemed to garner a bit more interest, that’s what your author likes to see! I love that you guys love Angel and Lily, I’m having fun writing them :) Looking forward to your thoughts over the next part!

Previous chapters - One Two Three

Words - 5,177

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - Mentions of rape and the associated trauma of such to come in future chapters. While I do not plan on detailing these overtly graphically, there will be detailing of such and conversations surrounding the subject, so if this is a trigger for you, you’d be best not to begin reading the story. 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“So, when you told me earlier that you had a habit of being really stupid when something good comes along...” Lily began, taking the cigarette he offered her. Balls to four a day. “In the spirit of being honest, is this something I’m gonna have to be on my guard over with you? I’d rather know now, Angel, if you’re gonna mess me around.”

He admired that, how straight she’d asked him, although he couldn’t deny, it made him feel uncomfortable. It did because of the way he viewed himself. Something hit him there as he sipped his beer, something quite profound; the way they both viewed themselves was almost exactly the same, as someone not good enough, someone who wasn’t worth choosing, so as a result of such, both acted in ways to sabotage it before they could end up as the one being rejected. Lily did it by running away. He usually did it by blowing up the relationship he was in, because he couldn’t handle when something went right and didn’t trust that it would continue to do so.

It was very unhealthy self-preservation.

He took a breath, scratching his beard. “I don’t want you to be, I really don’t, because like I said don’t wanna be that guy any longer. I’m thirty-two now, so old enough to know better and start sorting my shit out, you know?” She cocked her head, a soft incline that confirmed she did. “I guess I have my own issues that aren’t entirely dissimilar to yours.”

“Care to discuss them? I mean, you know mine, so I think it’s only fair, really.” He visibly closed up a little at that, dropping his head, his shoulders hunching up a tad. It was obvious that it was something that didn’t come easily to him. Despite his body sending such a message, though, Angel knew that if anyone was to get it and not judge him over it either, it would be her.

“I kinda always felt second best to my brother when I was growing up,” he began, her face softening at hearing such. On the little he’d touched upon regarding his brother, she’d sensed there was something there that prickled at him. “I mean, we get on great now, but I always resented him a little, my folks too. He was smarter than me, a better son, had this whole glowing trajectory ahead of him and I think the more it pissed me off, the worse I became, the more paranoid I got. I mean, I’m dealing with it more now, seeing it for what it was, which was me being an angry, jealous kid, but it’s still baggage I carry. I know mom and dad loved me just as much, they just weren’t as proud, and I didn’t give ‘em much to be proud about, so yeah, when someone makes me their first choice, I have trouble believing it’s real and thus act like an asshole.”

He shifted and fiddled the entire way through his explanation, only being able to meet her eyes a couple of times. He might have come out with it, but boy, it hadn’t been easy. For this, Lily really appreciated him. It was deep territory to venture into on a first date, but for two people with rejection issues as significant as theirs, tackling it head on was likely going to be the most conducive route in ensuring their own insecurities didn’t ruin something they knew could be good, if they let it be. After all, neither could deny how well they’d connected, that first night.

“Because you always feel like there’s someone better out there, right?”

He widened his eyes a little at her assumption. “Right, exactly that.” He just wasn’t used to this level of honest discourse with a woman, especially not this soon, either.

“Yeah, I get it. In my... I want to say it was my fourth, but I can’t remember exactly, foster home, there were two kids in care there, me and another little girl. The family decided to adopt her, but not me. It broke my heart, I was only six, but I was so happy there. They were good people, nice people, had a gorgeous home, golden retriever dogs, apple tree in the backyard, all that. And what it boiled down to, I now see through adult eyes, wasn’t me as all. It was just that they couldn’t feasibly afford to take both me and Brooke in, so chose her. I mean, she was the better behaved out of the two of us, so I can’t fault them there either.”

“I guess my mom choosing heroin over me what just the start of me being overlooked in favour of something else, and that’s what spurred my own anger, meant I ran away from foster homes before they could get chance to overlook me, ending up in group homes which were a thousand times worse. Maybe, though, in meeting each other, knowing where we’re both coming from, it’ll be different, because we have that same similarity,” she explained, Angel snorting softly.

“What, two emotional fuck ups together?”

She laughed, grasping his hand. “Yeah, exactly that.” It was daunting, quite scary in what they’d sat and confessed to one another, the deep dark that they knew they hadn’t ever dealt with healthily in the past. Both couldn’t deny, they felt somewhat lighter for discussing it, though. “Anyway, this isn’t exactly first date conversation. Let’s move it along so something lighter.”

His face brightened in an instant. “Yeah, let’s do that!”

She sat and asked him questions, anything she could think of which she hadn’t upon their first meet, learning of how he first began to pursue a passion for motorcycles, fixing up old, broken wrecks in his parents' backyard, moving from job to job but always having that one constant, until he and his old friend Johnny, who’d served time in the military, found themselves gravitating towards life in the MC and starting out as prospects at the same time.

“You had to do all of that?” Lily cried at hearing some of the duties prospects were tasked with, her mouth handing open. She knew there’d always be a limit to what she knew, or more aptly, what he was prepared to reveal, the club of course existing as a mere motorcycle enthusiasts organisation to most people outside it, but others of course, such as her, not so naïve over their dealings upon the other side of the law.

“Oh yeah, prospects get the shit work to prove their loyalty, and it ranges from demeaning to all out gross, and everything in between. Tests your mettle, though, to see if you want the patch badly enough,” he cringed, remembering some of the things he’d been tasked with. Jesus. Grim. “So, how was training today? You looked great from where I was standing.”

“It went really well, despite the fact I learned I’m being put into a fight against my nemesis in nine weeks from now, which I’m not happy about, but I see Larry’s reasoning over it entirely,” she replied, stubbing out her cigarette and taking a sip of her vodka and soda.

Angel nodded toward her, raising an eyebrow. “A nemesis, huh? Bitch gonna lose half her damn face then, right?”

“Well,” she began through a ripple of laughter. “She fractured my eyebrow the last time we fought, really put me on my ass with a knockout head kick.” He could see by the way she rolled the two small straws in her drink around through the ice cubes that the idea perturbed her. Even fighters as accomplished as Lily had people whom they feared, which just made her even more endearing to him.

“Then I agree with Larry. You need to go finish her, mamacita, show her that first time was just a fluke!” Mamacita, her beloved Carlos’ favourite pet name for her, Lily telling him as much. “Carlos, was that the guy checking me out as soon as I walked into the coffee shop earlier, or the tall guy with the shaved head?”

“Yeah, that’s him, the one who was looking at you like you were his lunch.”

Angel snorted hard with laughter. “I felt like he was gonna vault the counter and dive on me.”

“Had you not been there to see me, he likely would have!” she assured him, Angel laughing. “Oh, he was going crazy for you, said you made him feel like he was getting the menopause.”

It was an unfortunate moment for Angel to have taken a sip of beer, spraying it back out over the chair beside him, completely cracking up. “He sounds like he’s fun.”

“He makes having to be around El Chupacabra more bearable,” Lily confirmed, Angel liking how she used his name for her somewhat cantankerous boss.

“Yeah, what’s her deal? She always that mean?”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “I guess she has a job to do, but she’s always been moody, not very personable.”

He shrugged. “Maybe she don’t get laid much.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. It’d mean she had to crack her face for longer than six seconds.” He snorted laughing at that. “She’s probably got cobwebs in her undies. Like the mom from Drop Dead Fred.”

“That movie is so damned funny!” Angel shouted with excitement. “Ain’t hardly anyone I know who’s heard of it, though. The guy, the British dude, what’s his name?”

“Rik Mayal.” Lily offered, Angel ceasing snapping his fingers as he attempted to jog his memory, pointing right at her.

“Yeah, that’s him. See, this is something else I really like about you, you just know shit. Like, I dunno, I bet you could probably name the sixteenth US president off the top of your head or something,” he mused, sipping his beer.

“Well, that isn’t difficult. It was Abraham Lincoln,” she shrugged.

As if she knew, just like that, no mental straining to attain the answer. “See, that’s what happens when you pay attention at school. I barely even turned up for history class. I was usually too busy smoking weed or getting laid.”

“So not much of a historical wealth of info then, no?”

He snorted. “No, but I’m damned good at rolling joints and eating pussy.”

Her eyebrows twitched, Lily watching her drink straws between her teeth as she laughed softly. “I’ll drink to that.” Just thinking about him doing it sent a little pleasant shiver through her, grinning as she drained her drink.

“Stop thinking about my tongue,” he chided with a wink. “I feel violated, just from a look.”

“Funny, since you’re the one who's proficient in violation,” she clapped back, Angel smirking.

“You want another drink?”

She licked her lip, just the touch of her tongue against that bee stung pout making something inside him feel as though it had snapped. “Among other things.” He adored that duality in her, how she could suddenly go from quite demure, to unashamedly flirtatious in a nanosecond. He laughed, a low rumble of amusement, winking as he got up, heading inside to the bar. While inside, he heard a slight commotion going on out front, arriving back to see the other part of duality regarding Lily he also enjoyed. Threatened Lily was quite the thing to behold.

“We got a problem here?” he questioned, placing the drinks down, remaining on his feet for that moment.

“Yeah, that stupid drunken fuck just crashed right into me and then gave me a mouthful of abuse when I told him to apologise,” Lily spoke, affronted by such behaviour.

Angel immediately turned to the two guys still present. “Oh, I’d apologise if I were you.”

“Why? What are you gonna do if I don’t?” the irked drunk replied, he and his friend puffing their chests, holding their arms out wide and expressively to give them the appearance of much larger men than the two skinny fellas they actually were.

“I don’t gotta do nothing, but her? Yikes,” Angel began, jerking his head towards Lily as he sat down casually. “I got a good five inches in height and thirty pounds of muscle on you, bro, and not even I’d fuck with her.”

“I want my apology,” Lily gritted, eyeing him sharply.

“Yeah?” the guy sneered, leaning in close to her. He was about to suggest that maybe she suck his dick first, except he only managed to get the first few words of his tirade out. Lily calmly standing and snap kicking him straight under the chin. An accurate assessment of the situation would be that he flew. At least eight feet back, landing on the sidewalk with a slap.

Lily sat, picking up her drink and taking a sip. “He warned you, dude.” Winking at Angel, she noted how proud he looked of her ability to handle herself.

“Hey yo, fuck that shit, nah! You can’t go around kicking people in the face!” his friend cried, storming toward Lily.

“One more step, homie,” Angel warned, about to fly across the table, bracing himself.

“And what? I’ll get my boys down here, man!”

“Oh, you gon’ get your boys here?” He revealed his forearm, tapping the Mayans ink. “Then I’ll get mine. Get the fuck out of here, homeboy. Before I change my mind about not smacking you the fuck down for daring to rush my girl.”

“Yeah, I’ll sit this one out and let him handle it. Trust me, you don’t want him to handle it,” Lily advised, reaching for Angel’s hand across the table, waving with her other. “Bye, bye, asshole.” They had the sense to stagger away after that, muttering, a few other people whom were sitting outside looking at Lily approvingly, one man even getting up to jog over and offer his hand.

“Very nicely done, ma’am,” he chuckled, Lily giggling as she shook his hand. “You got yourself a good girl here, bro.”

Angel smiled. “Don’t I just?” Lily sat there, quietly effervescing on the inside at Angel referring to her as his girl, and acknowledging her to be that to the man who’d referred to her as such. She knew she wasn’t strictly such yet, it was very early days between them, but it made her glimmer all the same. They stayed for a couple more before heading back to Lily’s place, Angel immediately fascinated with Charlie as soon as Lily walked in and let him jump from his cage onto her shoulder.

“Be careful, he’s bitey with new people,” she warned, Angel leaning back a little.

“’Sup, Charlie? How you doing?” he asked, Charlie surprising her greatly by lifting his wing.

“He wants you to pet him.”

Angel reached slowly, just in case the large, black beak made a beeline for his fingers, stroking the bird where long feathers met short, soft down.

“Who?” Charlie croaked, looking back at Lily.

“This is Angel.” The bird clicked his beak a few times and then grasped onto Angel’s hand with his feet and began to patter down his arm.

“Hi, hi, hi.” he chirped, Angel moving his other hand to continue the petting beneath his wing... and swiftly regretting it.

“God damnit!” he hissed, Charlie snapping onto his little finger knuckle, Lily trying not to laugh.

“Charlie, that’s bad! Don’t bite Angel, we like him. Angel is your buddy,” she corrected, Charlie scratching his head nonchalantly while Angel examined his finger. It was bleeding, but he could cope, sucking it as he side eyed the bird still sitting on his arm.

“Grapes!”

“Oh, you ain’t getting shit from me now, bro!” Angel exclaimed, eyes widening.

Charlie rolled his eyes around, shaking his head, his comb fluttering. “Fuck you.” He couldn’t help but crack up at that, Lily snickering behind her hand.

“Think you’re a real G, huh, Charlie?” The bird just scampered further up his arm, perching on his shoulder and whistling a few times, looking contented enough. Angel was on his guard for further attack, though, following Lily through to the kitchen.

“Would you like a drink? I have coffee, loads of herbal teas, juice, vodka and tequila,” Lily offered, smiling when she felt his fingers trail her hip, Angel kissing her shoulder. Suddenly, he yelled, right into her ear.

“Damnit, Charlie!”

Lily turned, seeing him holding a hand to his ear, Charlie, in all his audacity, dancing on his shoulder with mirth, comb up, bobbing and squawking. “Okay, come here, jealous boy!” Tapping her shoulder, Charlie jumped over, Lily moving Angel’s hand to examine the damage. “Nah, you’re good. He got Carlos so badly one time, he needed a stitch! He can be jealous sometimes when people show me affection.”

“Yeah, you ain’t kidding! And I’ll take a tequila, please.” He viewed the bird suspiciously, taking his drink with thanks, Lily pouring herself a vodka and going to the fridge to fetch Charlie his snacks. She sensed he needed appeasing. Once he was pacified, she popped him back in his cage, pulling the blanket down so he’d settle, heading to her bathroom to douse a couple of pieces of cotton wool in antiseptic.

“Come here,” she gestured, sticking one piece on his ear and the other against his finger, Angel grumbling immediately.

“What is that shit, acid?” he complained, Lily tutting.

“For someone with what is very obviously a scar on his leg from being shot, you complain like a child over two teeny cuts.”

“It stings!” His exclamation was met with an eyeroll, although beneath, she was entertained at how dramatic he could be over something quite minor. She noticed that if an opportunity presented itself for Angel to get worked up about something, he usually took it.

“Want me to take your mind off it?” Ahh, the grin. She knew that’d have the desired effect.

“Do you even need to ask?”

Placing the pieces of slightly bled upon cotton onto the counter, she leaned to kiss his neck, unbuttoning the dark blue plaid shirt he was wearing, kissing his chest as it was revealed to her, tackling his belt next as she crouched. “I’ll just be down here, then.” He finished his drink, setting the glass down, hands combing through the long, dark silk of her hair, inhaling sharply through his nose when she took him into her mouth and sucked. He was fully hard in mere seconds.

She eyed him prettily through her fluttery, long lashes, running her tongue in a sumptuous glide up the underside of his shaft, watching his pupils begin to dilate, his lips parting upon a deep moan. Her thumbs toured the ridges of muscle creasing his hips, soft, explorative glides in time with her lips sliding along his cock, his eyes closing as his head tipped back. God, how could one woman be so good? If his cock could have spoken to him telepathically in that moment, it would have told him that if he messed this up, it’d never, ever forgive him.

Her nails glided up his chest, pinching his nipples as her mouth quickened, tongue pressing, lips firming around him, sucking from base to tip with a soft moan, her huge, blue eyes staring up at him. His hands tightened in her hair, teeth gritted through low moans, his hips swaying forward against her mouth as he felt himself starting to flourish, his chest heaving as he panted hard. As if she could get him there that quickly. Fuck.

“Yeah, cum for me, Angel. Fucking make me choke on it.” Those words sent him straight to nirvana, taking him deep and sucking hard until he spilled into her throat with an almost helpless groan, his thighs trembling as he came so hard, he had to let go of her hair and reach back to brace himself against the counter.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted. “You’re way too good at that.”

Lily grinned, pleased with herself, picking up her drink and sinking it before sauntering from the kitchen, undressing and letting her clothes fall upon the path he took to follow her. The gradual strip prompted the same of his own, both naked by the time they got to her bedroom, Angel taking a little glance around. Deep grey and white, tranquil, relaxing, although he didn’t plan on doing much of that for the rest of the night.

He stroked her arms, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck. “Get on the bed.”

Something pleasant ran through her in a shiver. “Oh, so he’s forceful tonight.”

“He is.” The confirmation was sealed by the glide of his tongue along the outer rim of her ear, his fingertips stroking swirls over her tits. “Now, get on the bed.”

She did as he instructed, climbing on, Angel shaking his head. “Turn over, ass up.” Immediately, she corrected, her insides glowing with arousal. “There you go, much better. Exactly how I’ve wanted you all fucking night.” He lay on his front behind her, lifting himself up on his forearms, laying a lick up the back of her thigh, watching the pale flesh become flecked with goosepimples, the smell of her sex intoxicating to him, kissing the pert round of her butt cheek, licking his thumb and then dragging it through her slit, circling at her clit.

Her mouth dropped open, a soft moan of pure beauty fluttering from between her parted lips, his teeth laying a soft bite against the hard muscle of her rump before she felt his tongue swirl her opening. He pushed it within, a low groan rattling his throat when he felt her yield and flutter, taking a mouthful of her in a hungry suck before tongue fucking her again.

Moving his thumb, his tongue skimmed a soft lick over her clit, just once, watching her pretty little hole twitch, pressing the flat of his tongue against her and dragging slowly, her mewl an utter delight to his ears. He could feel his cock beginning to stiffen again, sucking at her, a hand slapping hard off her ass cheek, remembering how much she’d loved it before, Lily feeling like she was becoming slowly gilded in erotic divinity. How was he this good?

She paid no mind to furtherly questioning his prowess, rather enjoying it instead. The ceaseless licks of wet heat against her clit had her softly wailing, his hand spanking hard, Lily attempting to keep her thighs held firm, but suffered trembles as a result of the adroitness of his mouth. He moved to lie beneath her, pushing against her knees with his elbows, tongue rubbing a flat lick from side to side over her clit, two fingers sliding into the wet clutch of her cunt, his other hand spanking her a few more times before it switched places with the left, Angel using his well-soaked fingers to push into her ass.

“Oh my fucking god!” she whimpered, little jolts streaking through her, his moan rumbling a soft vibration against her bud as he sucked it, fingers gliding from both holes in the sweetest of tandem.

“Lily?”

“Yeah?” she breathed, her voice tremoring a little.

“Can I bang you up the butt?” Oh, Angel. Sexual talent in shades? Yes, he had that. Eloquence with words? Not so much. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “What?”

“You! ‘Can I bang you up the butt’, oh my god!” she cried, somewhere between laughing and moaning as he continued.

He snorted softly, snickering a little too. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question!”

“It’s the way you said it!”

“Oh, pardon the fuck out of my wording, mamacita,” he began, shifting beneath her until he was level with her face. “Lily, baby, please may I slip my cock straight up your pretty little asshole? Is that any better for you?” The way he eyed her, one eyebrow tilted up significantly higher than the other had her in utter hysterics, taking a moment to collapse against his chest in a fit of giggles.

“You may, yes,” she eventually replied, shifting off of him. “Hold on, I have lube in the naughty box.”

Angel’s ears pricked up immediately at the mention of a naughty box. “Oh? And what else do you have in this so-called naughty box?” he watched as she pulled a large, heavy box from beneath the bed, flicking the clasps and throwing it open to reveal an array of toys. “Yeah, you got everything. I’m helping myself to this, though, and gimmie that lube.” Grasping the butt plug he saw in there, nothing that the jewel at the end of it matched her eyes perfectly, he grinned, sliding back beneath her again, taking the bottle of lube with him too.

“Not intimidated by my naughty box, well, there’s a first,” she commented, Angel laughing a little.

“Why the fuck would I be? It’s moulded silicone and things that buzz. Ain’t no replacement for a flesh and blood man, but damn, I spied a few other things in there I have absolutely no problem with using on you as well.”

“Some guys aren’t so cool with the idea,” she noted, exclaiming softly when she felt the slippery point of the plug pushed against her.

“I ain’t some guys. Your little gizmos aren't my competition, they’re my occasional co-pilots.” Anything she might have liked to reply with was knocked from her throat by the moan that bubbled up, feeling herself breeched as he pushed the plug fully inside her, his tongue connecting with a sweeping lick through her folds, hand spanking her frivolously. It felt too good, her tight passage flexed around the plug, his fingers slipping back within the hug of her wetness, tongue circling her clit firmly.

She didn’t think it could get better, until he grasped onto the end of the plug and began moving it from side to side, her slick muscles locking around his fingers, her cries amping up, Angel experiencing the usual thrill from hearing just how mindless he was driving the woman he was with. It was even better now it was with someone he genuinely liked a lot. Every moment with Lily, and he felt himself pulled in closer.

And it was only a little scary, rather than the usual overwhelming feeling of doom.

In fact, the only thing he felt right then was the consuming desire to be inside of her, moving out from under her gently shuddering body to kneel behind her, gripping her hips as he slid into her fully, hand coming down to spank her hard. Oh, how she hollered in response. He felt like he was about to cum on the spot, just from that. Feeling the pressure of the plug against his cock through the thin membrane separating was almost too good, his fingertips flexing against her skin as he fucked her with long, even strokes, continuing to spank her, hard slaps leaving big, red hand prints behind, just how she liked it.

He had her shuddering pleasantly, her breath hitching, the anticipation of each spank rolling though her like a ball of warm sparkles, her pulse flipping madly as her hands grasped at the bed covers beneath her. Excitement electrified her like a live current, the drag of his cock through her fluttering wetness absolutely exquisite, Angel slowing, giving her all-in, all-out thrusts, knowing he was driving pure heat to dance as a blaze of embers across her nerve endings, stroking her clit with the tip of his cock before fluidly sliding back in again, pounding her voraciously, before once again, it all became slow.

He continued this until he had pure ecstasy fizzing through her, his own arousal beginning to spiral, retreating from her and grasping the plug, gently pulling it from her. Turning her over, he hauled her up to rest on his thighs, leaning forward to kiss her.

“Damn, you’re too fine.” His compliment preceded another kiss, Lily stroking his neck with her nails, panting against his tongue, her breath hitching when he straightened up, beginning to push slowly into her, her narrow passage opened from the plug, but not so much that her eyebrows didn’t knit together at the extra widening needed to take him anally. He kept slow as he gradually inched his way in, reading her bodily reactions and facial expressions, stopping if she looked or sounded pained, waiting for her to adjust.

“Oh fuck… oh my god, that’s amazing!” she exclaimed, the sensation absolutely incredible to her as he continued to keep on slipping in. “Okay, I don’t think I can take much more now.” She then hissed, feeling a little uncomfortably full, but still, the pleasure, the tingles. She was in rapture.

“Well, mamacita, you’ve got most of me. Fuck, you take a cock so well in your ass, you dirty girl.” He growled, leaning forward to kiss her hungrily, excitement washing over him as he began to slide out slowly once more, gripping her hips as he groaned gutturally.

It was all encompassing pleasure, entrenched in erotic heat, his thumb moving to her clit to rub a slow, firm circle, making her mewl softly, a precursor to the most animalistic cry he’d ever heard come from her mouth as he began to speed up the motions of his cock.

He only thrilled her further by pushing two fingers into her sumptuous heat, her cunt gripping them strongly as he raked her pulsing walls, Lily not able to remember anything feeling better than what her gorgeous new lover was bestowing upon her in that moment. Everything became torridly uncontained, both chasing their release until the point of fiery consumption, the ultimate feelings of nirvana rushing through them both, Angel pulling his cock from within her and finishing all over her tits, collapsing at her side, unable to breathe.

“Damn... where the hell have you been for the last ten years of my life?” he panted, Lily turning to him, unable to speak for a moment.

“Give me a minute,” she whispered, chest still heaving. “I’m so dick drunk right now.” He burst into immediate hysterics, watching her flounder a little more. “I’m here now. I’m also in need of a shower. And food. You hungry?”

“I could eat,” he confessed, resting up on his elbows as he reached to stroke her hair.

“Good. I’m gonna order a pizza, take a shower, and then come back here and eat it in bed. I feel like watching something, too. Ahhh, yeah! There it is!” Hoping up off the bed, she went to her shelves and pulled out a DVD, revealing it to Angel. The Five Deadly Venoms.

“No shit, you like kung fu movies?” he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

“Like ‘em? They’re my cinematic passion!”

Twenty-five minutes later, and he was eating a slice of hot pizza with everything on it, Lily lying between his legs, her head rested on his chest, the opening sequence of the film playing out. Yes. Where the hell had this woman been for the last ten years? He could have done with finding someone like her a lot sooner than he had.

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