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mattslolita · 5 months

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come thru - m. sturniolo

warnings ; fingering , oral ( female receiving ) , slight dom!matt

"you make wanna come thru, quarter after two, just to put it down on you."

you invited your best friends over for a movie night, like you had done since you guys had been friends since you were all younger — it was a tradition amongst you all, every weekend you guys rotated between yours and the triplets house.

right now, they had just arrived at your house, and you already laid out all the movie options for them. chris immediately made a beeline for your fridge, causing you to shake your head and roll your eyes.

"chris, you realize i'd like to actually have a pepsi for myself for once, right?" you said, turning to follow the boy into the kitchen. "you always raid them all."

"yet you keep buying them for me," chris grinned, and you leaned over the counter and shook your head at him.

you were just in an over sized ransom tee that belonged to matt and some short shorts underneath — it was quite common that you wore these types of clothes around them, so it wasn't unusual. though you had to admit, wearing a borrowed shirt from matt was making you hope he would notice.

you were definitely good at hiding it, but the feelings you've had for matt were growing even more by the day — the way he'd playfully flirt with you sometimes of course was making matters worse, and you wondered if there was a chance matt might have felt the same way as you.

now with all the snacks in tow, everyone went to their designated spots in the living room — chris was in the chair closest to the tv, whilst nick took the loveseat and decided on spreading out all over it. you and matt took the sofa, and he placed his arm behind the chair.

you could feel your cheeks get warm at the action even though he was always doing stuff like this. you tried to play it off by letting a small sigh escape your lips, and bringing your sprite can up to your lips to take a sip.

matt noticed the sigh and turned to you with a raised eyebrow. "you good?" he whispered in your ear as he leaned over.

your breath hitched and you clenched your legs together, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "i'm alright."

thankfully the movie had already started, and you found yourself more interested in it. but as the movie went on, you couldn't help but subtly look over at matt from time to time — his blue eyes were focused on the movie unlike yours currently, and you swore you were about to go crazy at the way one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk when a funny scene came on.

your eyes then roved over his tattooed arm all the way down to his ring clad hands, finding yourself wondering how good they would feel inside you.

and that's where you drew the line.

you stood up quickly, already feeling yourself become hot and bothered, causing all three of the triplets to look up at you in confusion.

"the movie's not even done yet," nick commented, and you shot him a weary smile.

"yeah i know, i'm just...not feeling too good," you lied.

"what's wrong?" matt asked with furrowed eyebrows, and you waved him off.

"oh it's nothing, i'm just kinda tired," you lied again, "i'm just gonna go up to my room and lay down for a bit."

"you want me to come up there with you?" matt asked, beginning to stand up.

"no!" you answered quickly with wide eyes, causing his eyebrows to furrow, "sorry...i'm good, though. y'all finish the movie and just clean up when you're done. you can crash here for the night if you don't feel like driving back home, matt."

chris just shrugged and stuffed his face with some chips whilst nick nodded sympathetically and blew you a friendly good night kiss — matt watched you as you walked upstairs quickly, before he turned his attention back to the movie playing.

once you got into your room, the first thing you did was close your door and let out a big sigh, then you went to dim your lights and turn on some music — the triplets already knew you went to sleep with music for the most part, but sleep wasn't exactly what you needed the music for.

you sat back on your bed as you pulled your shorts off of yourself and slowly ran a hand over your lace underwear, feeling the slight wetness. throwing your head back, you closed your eyes and thought of matt, causing a small moan to slip from your lips.

"fuck..." you sighed, picturing matt as you rubbed circles around your clit, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

you completely ditched your underwear as you continued rubbing circles around your clit, imagining matt's voice in your ear telling you how good of a girl you were being for him.

a slightly louder moan escaped your mouth but you were too caught up in the feeling to care. "fuck, matt..."

"woah."

the sound of matt's voice caused you to gasp loudly as he stood there with his jaw slightly dropped, looking at you in shock and — amusement?

your cheeks burned as you found yourself wanting to fall off the face of the earth. "um...how much of that did you witness?"

"enough, actually," matt said, a slight smirk appearing on his features as he walked into your room and closed the door behind him. "so i'm who you think about when you touch yourself, y/n?"

now your cheeks burned even more as matt watched you with an amused expression, and you found yourself unable to form words. embarrassment filled your body at what just happened. "this is so embarrassing, what the fuck."

you hung your head as you felt the bed dip in front of you — matt lifted your chin with his index finger, prompting you to look up at him. "don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. all you had to do was ask for some help."

a low gasp was about to escape your lips before matt crashed his onto yours, silencing whatever sound was to come out of your mouth next — your tongues battled for dominance but you let matt do all the exploring in your mouth.

as he continued kissing you his tattooed arm went down to race circles on your thighs, causing a small whimper to escape your lips. a smirk resided on matt's features against your lips.

he began tracing circles near your inner thighs, causing you to whimper again at the way he was teasing you — his ring clad hand finally found its way in between your thighs, as he rubbed your folds back and forth.

"matt, please," you begged, "please touch me."

"what's that, baby?" matt whispered in your ear, running a hand ever so teasingly over your folds, "you want me to touch you?"

unable to form words at how crazy he was driving you, you just nodded with a little whimper — without warning, matt shoved one of his ringed fingers inside you, causing you to let out a loud whine.

"oh matt..." you moaned out, as he repeatedly pumped his finger in and out of you, "fuck..."

"look at you, fucking my finger like the needy slut you are," matt whispered into your ear, placing a kiss on your neck, "you like it when i touch you like this, don't you?"

"fuck, i really do matt," you whined, as he added another ringed finger inside of you just then.

the pace of his fingers sped up inside you, repeatedly hitting your g spot as you arched your back to give him more access — moans and whimpers repeatedly escaped your mouth as matt continued working his magic inside you, then you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach.

"matt, i'm close," you whimpered out, as he still left kisses along your neck, "i'm gonna cum."

matt stopped with his fingers inside you and took them out, causing you to look at him with furrowed eyebrows — with a grin he licked your arousal off of his fingers causing you to bite your lip as he spread your thighs and pushed your stomach back.

"i want you to cum all over me, sweetheart."

you felt your pussy pulsate at the way matt looked at you hungrily, as he peppered kisses along your thighs — he left small kisses on your folds causing you to whine out. "matt, don't tease me..."

he smirked up at you then shoved his tongue inside you, nipping and sucking on your clit. you moaned out at the feeling, arching your hips upward as he maintained eye contact with you while lapping up your pussy.

"fuck y/n, you taste so fucking good," matt groaned as he came up momentarily, his lips covered in your juices.

your hand went down to tug at his hair as he continued eating you out, and you felt the feeling in your stomach yet again. "oh my gosh, matt i'm gonna..."

"give it to me, baby," matt breathed, "cum all over me."

you released all over matt's face, a plethora of moans and a string of curses leaving your lips as your grip on his hair tightened slightly — matt lapped up all your juices, coming up from between your legs and grinning down at you, his face coated in your arousal.

"you have no idea how bad i've wanted to do that," matt breathed out, as he fell down on your bed beside you.

you had finally caught your breath from the mind blowing orgasm and upon realizing what he just said, your cheeks heated. "you should've been done that."

matt turned to the side and smirked at you. "so does that mean you'll let me more often?"

"if it's gonna feel that good every time, then hell yeah," you giggled, "let's just hope nick and chris don't freak out."

( i hope you enjoyed this my loves, sorry for not posting the past two days ! i love you all, muah💌 )

#Spotify #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets smut #orgasim #i need him so bad #he's so hot

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celtic-crossbow · 8 months

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Some Things, Only God Can Forgive

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Implied/mention of teen pregnancy, mentions of premature birth, implied/mentions of CSA, mentions of domestic violence

Summary: You’re hurting and have to share something about your past in order for Daryl to understand.

A/N: I’ve allowed parts of my life to wiggle their way into my writing before but this may be the most personal thing I’ve ever used my writing to vent about. I implore you to read the warnings and not venture further if any of those will trigger you. Also, the decision the reader made in her past may be controversial. Please, just… be gentle with me on this one. I needed the outlet badly.

Gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

He found you sitting on the grass near the graves of the loved ones Alexandria had lost. You didn’t seem to be looking at the makeshift crosses, instead staring up at the sky, all orange and purple as the sun bid you goodnight. He approached you carefully, having seen you struggling throughout the day; tears you had tried to hide during your chores and the way you were so easily frustrated with yourself and would storm off to god knows where before returning like nothing had happened.

“Hey.” Daryl said quietly. His knees cracked as he lowered to sit next to you. He mimicked your pose, stretching tired legs out in front of him but chose not to move when you drew your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. The position made you look so small.

“Hi.” You answered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Y’okay?” The archer tried to keep his gaze on the darkening sky but found his eyes sliding over to watch you when you sighed.

“No.” You whispered. He started to ask what he could do, what you needed but you didn’t give him a chance. “I need to tell you something.”

That wasn’t reassuring. “Ya can tell me anythin’.” And you could, he hoped you knew that. His temper had calmed over the last year and a half. He found himself to be more thoughtful, his need to be quick to anger diminishing, though not completely absent.

“Before the world fell,” you started, but your lip began to quiver. He watched you struggle for a moment but you seemed to settle. “Before the world fell, I was a mom.”

Daryl tried not to let the surprise show. Out of all the things you could have told him, this was not on his bingo card for the year. You had both spoken of your lives before the turn. He knew you had never had it easy, but a kid? Not trusting his voice, he hummed his acknowledgment and nodded for you to continue. You still weren’t looking at him but you must have seen because you did.

“I was still a kid myself when he came along. I had no idea what I was doing.” You laughed but it was humorless and somehow made his heart ache. “Still, he was perfect. He was so small because he came early, but fuck, he was a fighter.” When the tears started to flow, the archer went against his better judgment and wrapped an arm loosely around your shoulders. You didn’t object. In fact, he wasn’t sure you even realized he had done it.

“He was my world. Kept me going between the beatings and the other shit life would throw at me even after I ditched his asshole father.” You drew in a deep breath and the small smile you had managed to find faded. “He grew up. He was 18 a couple of years before the first walker turned.”

You remained silent for a while. Daryl wasn’t sure if you wanted to share anything more but he remained where he was and waited. Finally, you looked at him, tears in your eyes and an expression that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

“That little girl didn’t deserve what he did to her, Daryl.” The bowman’s heart all but stopped. What were you saying? You turned away again, this time staring at the ground in front of your feet. “And he did it over and over for years. He wasn’t even a teenager when it started.”

Jesus.

His arm around you tightened. He couldn’t help it.

You sniffed and rubbed at your eyes and nose a little harder than necessary. “I found out just before his 19th birthday. I kicked him out of my house and turned him in, but the legal system did what it does best. Failed. I don’t even know what happened to him. We never spoke again.” Your face screwed up again, more tears cascading over your cheeks. “She was just a little girl.” Your face disappeared against your knees, hard sobs wracking your small frame.

Daryl did the only thing he could think of and pulled you toward him, finding you willing to bury your face against his chest and cry while he held you. What could he say that would make even the tiniest bit of that raw pain you were carrying any better? His lips pressed against the top of your head, his hand rubbing circles across your back. The sky was black and littered with stars when you finally calmed down enough to pull away from him.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, seeing the dark spot on his button-up shirt.

“Ya ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.” He made sure to be extra gentle when he thumbed away the remaining wetness below your eyes. You offered him a small smile when he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, much like Carol had done for him only a few months prior.

“I should have told you before now.”

“Don’t make a bit’a diff’rence.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a little half-smile when you met his eyes questioningly.

“It doesn’t?” Your voice broke on the last syllable. “You still love me?”

“Course I do. Ya did right by that girl even when it meant ya had to lose someone ya loved. Weren’t no easy thing to do.” Daryl allowed his knuckles to whisper down your jaw. “The hell ya think that’d make me—oomph!” He nearly toppled over when you launched yourself into his chest, your arms winding around his neck in a hold tight enough to restrict his ability to breathe properly.

“Thank you.” Your hold loosened but didn’t fall away.

“For what?” The archer asked, managing to climb to his feet with you still thoroughly attached. His hands came to rest softly on your waist.

“For being everything I thought I’d never see of love.”

Daryl felt a familiar sting in his own eyes, fighting back the urge with a hard sniff. The two of you stayed that way for a while longer when you suddenly pulled back and grabbed his hand, yanking him toward the cluster of houses. He stumbled comically before righting himself with a grumbled ‘the hell, woman’ but soon fell in step beside you, listening to you list off the food items the two of you had at home and ponder over things to make for a late dinner.

Of course, he still loved you. The archer was certain there was nothing you could tell him that would ever change that.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #writing as a coping mechanism #writing as therapy #Spotify

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deandoesthingstome · 9 months

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Walk with Me - Ch 7

Pairing: FBI Agent!Syverson x OFC, Drug Czar!August Walker x OFC

Chapter Summary: This is it. The warehouse and beyond. The end.

Chapter Warnings: I’ll be real honest, I don’t really want to give anything away here. There’s gonna be some more sex if that interests you. (It’ll be outdoors. What?)

Word Count: 5K

Masterlist: For full series Summary and Warnings

Spotify Playlist: If you’ve followed the playlist, you should know what’s new.

A/N: Super grateful shoutout to @dadralt for helping me with a few French translations. I put the English at the bottom.

A/N 2: I really really appreciate everyone who has read and commented/reblogged this story. I had ideas when I started and those took on a life of their own. I got stuck a little on the way, but I think I figured it out and I hope you like the wrap up.

Francesca

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. While August was busy looking into his associates to root out a mole, I had made myself available for anything, anytime, no questions asked when he got back from Asia. That also meant ignoring Sy and making sure any information he received came through the agency and the agency only. One incredible night in the arms of the man I had once thought would be the only one I’d ever love. That’s all the sanity I had to hold onto.

As I found myself continuing to slip deeper under August’s spell, I also relished the memory of Sy’s arms wrapped around me, holding me close and safe. On my own, I was reckless and wanton. I’m sure it’s what drew Sy, and most men to me originally. But while most men gave up trying to handle the edge after a while, Sy had always somehow found a way to smooth it out. And that edge only grew sharper the longer I was away from him. It drove men crazy when they couldn’t hold on, most opting to let go rather than risk the deep cuts.

Walter had understood what it took to dull the blade, because he needed a soother too. So while he came to understand he couldn’t offer me respite in his arms, he was there to try to ease every ache I came away with after losing out on love time and again. I envied him for the way he had been able to take each ending as a sign for a new beginning and hold on waiting for what he really needed. I think he could see the damage each heartbreak was doing to me, could tell that the longer I went without a net, the easier it was to embrace fire and danger with no regard for myself. But I don’t think he realized how deep down that hole I was falling. He thought it was just part of the game we played. Instead, this is how I let August in against all my better judgements.

August didn’t fear my sharp edge. He honed it. And until Sy reappeared, I struggled to make sense of why it felt so good to have August keep pushing me, why every time I saw him it felt like I was being forged in his fire. In the haze of the smoke we created together, fueled by drugs and sex and more passion than I’d known in ages, I let myself begin to believe there was a way through that didn’t involve putting him behind bars. Like a fool, I continued to gently broach the subject of just leaving everything behind. I no longer knew if it was still the smokescreen I meant it to be.

I kept Walter appraised, but there had been no new developments from what I had seen. No new security breaches initiated by any number of August’s club girls. No more state secrets passing his way. August apparently had everything he thought he needed to make his next move and he was just looking for the right time. I simply had to wait until Will had the data stripped off the club’s computers and was ready to hand it off. I had been unsuccessful in my previous searches, but Will was a masterful hacker. I just needed the call, but it never came and walking into the warehouse I knew why.

August had figured out Will was CIA. And now I had to hope Will had been able to keep our secret even after everything it was apparent August’s goons had done to him. I couldn’t tell for sure how long he’d been here, but some of the wounds were fresh enough to tell me that while August had been fucking my brains out this afternoon, Will was getting the shit beat out of him. And I hoped his training was just as good as mine and he’d been able to withstand the obvious torture I could see he’d been put through. This was never how this mission was supposed to go.

While August continued to share his credo about not letting anyone hurt him, I rubbed my thumb over the microchip I had pressed against my forefinger. I knew I had what we needed and there was no reason to keep playing this game that had stopped feeling like a game weeks ago. I wanted to rise to my feet, lean in close and whisper to August that we could still run. That I could hide him and maybe we’d be apart for a little while, but in the end I’d be his and he’d be mine and we would be together.

And then I heard the words coming out of his mouth and I knew suddenly how utterly fucked I was. I was about to ruin what was probably the biggest bust of Sy’s life and I was about to end August’s reign. Sy would never forgive me for lying to him and August wouldn’t be around to put me in my place. I’d end up with neither of them.

Like a specter, the voice drifted through my thoughts.

“We’re in position.”

“Take him.” I fought to keep my eyes open. I would not turn away from this mess I had made.

August had barely stopped speaking, head at tilt and eyebrow raised in query at my words when the bullet hit. I watched him fall and barely registered the second round that took Mateo out. I couldn’t really stop the tears if I wanted to. Everything was in shambles around me. Not only was my partner hanging on by a thread, the man I had come to love in some sort of fucked up fantasy where I believed I could save him was dead.

And I had to somehow explain to Sy why I had let him believe he was ever going to have a shot at taking down August.

I heard sirens and shouts from outside the warehouse. Flashing lights flickered through the doorway each time a new body entered the space. Medics were on the scene and Will was getting the attention he needed when Walter found me sunk to the ground on my knees, resisting the urge to crawl to August and take him in my arms one last time. Doubt crept in, as if I’d made the wrong choice and it took everything I had not to let the bile rise up in my throat.

Walter wrapped an official jacket around me and asked if I was alright. I shook my head slowly and I felt him hold me closer. He knew what was coming. I don’t know how he knew. He never once asked if I was falling for August, but somehow he could tell and he knew what I had just done. He knew I would be in my head about this one for a good long time. Longer than any of the others.

“We just need to finalize the report and record your statement. We can do a video now and then you can go. Okay?”

I felt his concerned gaze on me and mustered the strength to nod at his question, still amazed how he looked after me after all these years. We were never going to be together, but that didn’t stop us from caring about and wanting only the best for each other.

We set up in a corner of the warehouse, away from the noise of the agents processing the scene. Before he turned the camera on, I dislodged the molar mic I had installed before leaving the hotel earlier and handed it over. I had already sent in encrypted typed reports and the final video interview was just a recount of the last few days that I hadn’t been able to upload yet. I signed every affidavit he put in front of me, half numb with shock. He put me in the cab to the train station with a gentle press of his hand on the small of my back as he bent to whisper in my ear.

“I’ll get him a message along with the rest of the Miami files. He won’t be hung out to dry. He’ll have everything he needs to make the case against the rest of August’s associates. And he’ll know you're on your way to being okay, too.”

When I looked up at him, I could tell he saw my gratitude, even if I didn’t yet know how to voice it. Even if I still doubted every decision I’d made so far.

“Will?” I managed to whisper.

“Will’s gonna be fine. He has more than a little R&R coming, too. Don’t worry.”

We said a final goodbye and I headed off, ready to try to put this all behind me, starting with a deep detox. I spent weeks in the remote cabin, fully stocked with everything I needed to avoid everyone for as long as I wanted, including a method of emergency contact if things got really bad.

I rocked myself to sleep every night only to enter dreams that turned to nightmares. August leading me down a floral path, only to turn a corner and find myself ensnared in briars and brambles. August preparing a delicious meal only to serve me Will’s head on a platter. August making me come, over and over again, only to find myself ripped apart at the seams.

I dragged myself out of bed every morning, no matter how badly I wanted to curl up in the sheets and just die. I journaled every day and raged at the papers that held my lovelorn tears, my foolish fantasies and ridiculous notions. At night, I burned them in a fire meant to keep me warm, but every bit of me felt cold and lifeless. I took long swims in the crystalline lake and long walks in the woods and prayed that maybe I’d twist an ankle and fall down the mountainside. I longed to be lost and rid of the torture I felt forever.

I could tell my storm was easing when I awoke one morning with the recollection of August morphing into Sy. When the drugs were finally fully out of my system, I sat quietly by the placid water and put all my pieces back in place. August Walker was a drug kingpin who had put an insane amount of product on the street. August Walker was a murderer, who had put his competition out of business permanently. August Walker was a traitor who had bribed politicians and military brass for national secrets that he planned to sell to the highest bidder. August Walker was a monster.

No amount of fucking was ever going to change those facts.

I pushed the button on the SAT phone and waited for Walter to answer while I practiced the speech over and over in my head.

Syverson

Syverson turned off the ignition of the rental car, peered at the number on the house and checked it against the message from Ramos on his phone. He stepped out and made his way up the narrow path to the front door, gravel crunching under his feet. He stood still at the door and paused before knocking, suddenly unsure if he’d made the right decision.

“Ah, fuck it,” he muttered and raised his hand to rap on the wood. In the moments of stillness as he waited for a sound from inside, a shuffle of feet, any tell-tale sign that someone would answer, he took several deep breaths and tried to calm his nerves. It would be the first time seeing her again after months with no communication and he hadn’t exactly been invited by the occupants of the house.

“Comment puis-je vous aider?*” the elderly man asked, peering out the entryway with a perplexed look as if trying to recall who might be scheduled to visit today.

“Mr. Malloy? It’s Dean Syverson, from the States. I’m sorry I don’t speak French. I’m friends with your daughter, Frankie, er Francesca. I was told she was here.”

“Papa, c'est qui?**” a voice called from down the hall and Syverson’s heart almost exploded with elation. He took note of the waver in her voice as she appeared next to her father looking radiant in her summer dress and spoke again. “Sy? What are you…?”

Sy wanted her to burst through the door and wrap her whole body around him so he could slip his arms around her back and hold her close to breath her in. In reality, she froze in place next to her father, though he didn’t imagine the way he saw her stop herself from reaching for him. At the sound of throat clearing, Frankie turned to her father to speak.

“Papa, tu te rappelles de Dean ? Du lycée. À l'époque on l'appelait Sy.***”

Sy watched as the old man seemed to light up with memory and a small smile, then listened to a conversation between father and daughter that he couldn’t understand. Frankie’s father reached out to shake his hand with a wink, then turned to head back into the front room.

“Wanna take a walk with me?” Frankie asked, motioning down the path. “Or I could invite you in and we could do the pleasantries of small talk over cold lemonade and cookies I baked the other day?”

“You bake?” Sy asked with a chuckle.

“Been goin’ through all of Mom’s old recipes. It’s therapeutic in more ways than one. And sorry about that. Dad’s kinda given up on English, especially now that she’s passed,” Frankie answered and watched Sy’s face fall a little, eyebrows furrowed and head atilt.

“Well now I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t know about your Mom.”

“Thank you. It happened just before my last mission. I hated leaving but I promised him we’d spend time together once I was done with work.” She gave a quick glance back into the house.

Sy heaved a breath in and out. “Let’s walk.”

He waited for Frankie to close the front door and let her lead the way as they stepped back onto the gravel path and followed it around to the back of the house and down into the large, lush garden where she motioned to a stone bench facing a pond.

“I feel like I know this answer, because I doubt you’d be here if you did, but I have to ask: Do you hate me?” Frankie asked, turning to him with a look of concern on her face.

“Sugar I could never hate you,” Sy answered immediately without any hesitation. “Couldn’t for the life of me figure out why you shut off all communication and never came back, though. Marshall wasn’t exactly forthcoming either.”

“Did they at least tell you about...? About the case?” Frankie asked, unwilling to voice the name just yet.

“You mean the part where no one was ever gonna let him take the stand?” Frankie nodded at Sy’s question. “Yeah. Said if he had an opportunity to implicate any of the people he’d bribed information from, national security was fucked. Sure. Apparently, all those other traitors had guardian angels sitting on their shoulders. The number of retirement announcements from the military and congress was staggering. Is that why you didn’t come back?”

“Are you asking if it made me sick to my stomach? That August Walker took the fall for all of them? I guess that’s part of it for sure, yeah.”

“Fuck, Sugar. You really were in deep with him.”

“I was blind, Sy. I wasn’t not doing my job but I let a lot of things get in the way of reality and when I found out they were all getting off the hook I couldn’t stomach it anymore.”

Frankie turned to stare out over the water while Sy took a moment to ponder her words and consider if he really wanted the answer to his next question. It could make all the difference to the end result of his impromptu visit. But if he didn’t ask, he’d never know and if somehow things worked out between them, the possibility would hang over his head forever.

“Did you love him?”

He watched her slow-blink her eyes closed, inhale and let out a deep sigh. He felt the bottom begin to drop from underneath him, afraid now of her answer and what it would mean. He wanted to reach out and grab the words back, stuff them down his throat and never let them out again. He swore to whatever god would listen that if she would just come home with him when this conversation was over, he’d never give August Walker another thought. When she spoke, he almost couldn’t hear her answer, the way the blood from his beating heart rushed passed his ears.

“Not really.” Frankie turned back to Sy and opened her eyes. As her voice trickled through the dense fog of his worry, he could at least see the promise in what she was saying. “For a while I thought I did. It took me time to figure out that I just loved the way he made me feel. Alive and reckless with no one to answer to but someone who only loved me for the person they thought I was.”

“And who are you, Frankie?”

“I’m figuring that out now, Sy. That’s the other part of why I couldn’t come back. I didn’t want to step back into whatever it was we had started again without a better understanding of what my life means now. And what that means for whoever is going to be a part of it.”

“What do you mean ‘whoever’, Sugar?” Sy asked, struggling to hide the emotion her words had stirred within him. He was certain she couldn’t possibly think he wasn’t the one even as he realized how little time they’d actually had together. It killed him to think she might not give him a chance to prove how much he wanted to give her everything.

“I don't want someone afraid of losing me,” Frankie replied.

“I already did. I ain't afraid of it anymore. Just don't want to ever feel it again.” Sy watched her face carefully, searching for any sign that she didn’t understand exactly what he was saying. Just to make sure, he spoke again. “I ain’t looking to change you, Frankie. I ain’t looking to stop you from being whoever you want to be. I just wanna be there with you for as long as I can. If that’s okay.”

“Fuck, where did you come from?” Frankie asked after considering his words and smiled at his comfortable laugh.

“Frankie, it’s always been you for me. Who you are now? She ain’t really all that different from that wildcat I fell in love with twenty years ago. I love every fuckin’ thing about you.” Sy saw the doubt creep on her face. “Yeah, Sugar, all of it. You are a strong, self-aware woman who ain’t afraid to take what she needs. I count myself lucky you ain’t never found someone else interested in all of that and if I don’t get you to let me kiss you right now to show you what I’m talking about, well this whole trip’s probably been for naught.”

Sy lifted a hand to brush his fingers past her shoulder and smooth up the side of her neck, pressing the tips into her nape and applying the gentlest of pressure, waiting for her to make up her mind and lean into him. When she finally did, her lips crashed into his and he felt gravity flip as he grabbed on to her with his other arm and pulled her all the way against him. He slid his hand down to her hip and urged her to lift a leg and spin to straddle him so he could feel her weight and know she was real.

Sy smoothed both hands up her back as he held her close and kissed her deep, parting her lips with his tongue and licking into the space she made for him while she did the same. When he realized he wasn’t going to be able to stop if they kept kissing for much longer, he raised his hands to tangle in her hair and pull her head from his as he cleared his throat and spoke low.

“Sorry, that’s more than I thought I’d get from you at the moment. I doubt your dad or the neighbors wanna see what else I’d like to do to you right now.”

“There are no neighbors nearby, Sy. And Dad doesn’t spend time in the back of the house.”

Sy couldn’t help himself from stiffening at the thought and raised an eyebrow in question. He grew even harder as he watched Frankie bite her bottom lip and nod as she ran her hands down his chest landing at the clasp of his slacks. She unhooked the waistband and slid the zipper down agonizingly slowly before reaching in to grab his aching cock and push his boxers down enough so that he was free and could feel her touch on his burning skin.

He dropped his hands to her thighs, smoothing the thin fabric up her legs and sweeping his fingers over her ass cheeks while she stroked him lazily and bent to return to the kiss. His hands found the strings of her thong and he slipped a thumb under the back so he could grab hold and tug up, applying pressure to her clit. Frankie moaned into his mouth and arched her back into the sensation.

Sy pulled the flimsy material to the side and reached his hand further down and under her ass so he could just feel the wetness as he brushed his fingers against the delicate lips he could barely reach. He only realized how much he was also loving the way her hand squeezed and pulled him when she stopped suddenly and he broke the kiss to see what could be wrong. Instead of disaster, he was met with her mischievous eyes as she wiggled the hand that had previously been making him feel so good under her skirt while her other hand pulled the material back so he could see exactly what she was doing.

He groaned and watched rapt as Frankie slid her fingers inside her underwear and into her cunt. She pressed deep and moved around before she pulled them back out glistening with her own juices. And just like that he was in heaven again as she smeared her slick all over his cock and bent to whisper in his ear.

“Fuck me, Sy.”

“Gladly.” Sy eased her thong to the side down her thigh as she pressed her feet into the earth beneath them to lift up and settle herself back down his length with a luxurious sigh. She had barely engulfed him completely before he began to squeeze his ass to pump his hips into her with fervor.

With her hands on Sy’s shoulders, Frankie used the leverage to lift and lower herself on him in tandem with his thrusts, as he delved deeper and deeper. He felt every squeeze of her walls around him and swallowed her cries of pleasure as the head of his engorged member brushed her cervix again and again.

Sy wanted to put his hands on her body, on her skin. He thought about lifting her dress up and over her head, but settled on simply wrapping an arm around her waist and sliding the other up her back so he could manipulate her movements to make sure they were both feeling as good as they could. He wanted this to last forever, but seeing her now, hearing her moan above him for the first time in months knowing the last time he saw her he was making her come too caused a rush of sensation to course through his body. He pulled away from their kiss again.

“I ain’t gonna last Sugar, not like this.”

“I need you to hang on a little bit longer, Sy. Please,” Frankie begged him, grinding her hips a few more times before she did the unthinkable. After easing herself off him, she pulled her dress off exactly the way Sy had just wanted to. She dropped it to the grass and then sank to her knees and finally her back with the dress as a makeshift blanket. She reached out for him and he tumbled forward off the bench and between her open legs, pressing a kiss to her lips as he palmed a breast.

His lips moved over her chin and throat as he began to ease his way down her body, pulling her tiny thong along with him and pushing it off her legs. He took a few moments to push his own shoes and pants off as well pull his shirt over his head and now just as naked as Frankie, Sy positioned himself between her legs, shoulders spreading her wide so he could get a good long look at her puffy, pink pussy dripping and waiting for him.

“Not sure I’m gonna last long this way either, but we’ll give it a try,” he teased before putting his mouth on her. He nipped at her clit and rubbed his forefingers along her slit, easing in and out with a tease she whimpered for. When he heard her beg with a “please” he slid his fingers all the way in and licked around them. Sy pumped and pressed the palm of his hand against her mound for a moment before he pulled his hand all the way out and let his tongue do the rest of the work.

He felt his cock rub against the fabric of her dress as he rutted against the ground and fought to stem the growing pressure.

“So fucking turned on eating you out like this, Frankie,” he groaned into her cunt before returning to the job. Frankie held his head in place, grinding up against him. When she came in a rush of heat and wet, Sy took the opportunity to crawl back up and slip his dick inside her, thrusting and pumping with vigor. He grazed his fingers up the side of her body and then watched as she grabbed his hand and moved it to her throat, pressing just a little.

“Just hold still right there,” she gasped. “Fuck me and I’ll do the rest.”

Sy grunted in pleasure at the thought and did as he was instructed. He felt Frankie lean up into his hand. All the effort it took to keep his hand precisely still for her meant his attention wasn’t on how good she felt around him as he pumped in and out. Where he thought he’d need just a few more strokes, Sy now felt the time slip by as she moved into his hand and back out again, playing with her own breath for him. When he finally felt her tighten around him, he wasn’t prepared for how fast his own release came as well. He was so caught up in the way she maneuvered that he hadn’t noticed the build at all.

They lay naked on the grass next to each other, catching their breath with hands on their chests, waiting until the pounding of their hearts had resided before turning to face one another.

“You sure no one could see us?”

“Would you hate me if I said no?” Frankie teased before leaning over for a kiss to taste herself on his lips. “Kidding. No one can see us. Even if Dad ventured back to the kitchen, where he never likes to go anymore, there are enough trees and bushes in the garden to obscure this view. Our closest neighbors are a couple kilometers away. Your virtue is safe, promise.”

“Funny.” Sy rolled her on her back and kissed her long and deep again before settling along her side, drawing lazy lines along her skin. “You know I didn’t know what to expect when I saw you again. I’m real glad how this has turned out so far.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you in limbo forever, I swear. I just needed to get my head on straight.” Frankie sat up and reached for Sy’s pants, handing them to him and motioning to her own dress below.

“Did I fuck up your timeline?” Sy asked, plucking his shirt off the ground next. He stuck his arms through the sleeves and tucked his thumbs in the neck hole to pull the shirt over his head, elbows wide, before checking around for his shoes.

“I’ll recover, I’m sure.” Frankie slipped the dress back on and did her own sweep of the lawn, looking for her panties.

“I got those, Sugar,” Sy grinned, making a show of tucking the small bundle into his pocket. “Safe keeping till you come back home.”

Frankie reached up to run her fingers through Sy’s hair, brushing a few stray pieces of grass from his locks and let him do the same for her before pulling him in for more kisses. She broke away reluctantly and hooked her arm through his to lead the way back up to the house.

“I honestly haven’t decided when that’ll be, Sy.”

“I’m pretty good at waiting for you if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Or if I ever will.”

Sy stopped short and turned her to him.

“I wondered about that. Not for my own selfish reasons, mind you. But I got to thinking about some of the things you told me over dinner that night. About having a safety net of sorts. This is a nice place.”

“I also told you I liked being useful…but you’re not wrong. It’s been a long time since I took care of myself.”

“Or let someone take care of you?”

“Sy…”

“I ain’t talking about keeping you under wraps, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, Sugar. I just mean, you don’t need to go it alone. Look, you are free to make your own decisions about going back to the agency, finding something else to do, or quitting altogether. But I wanna be with you, Frankie. Wherever that is. If you wanna stay here, I’ll let you know right now that if you’ll have me, I’m ready to leave it all behind, too.”

“You’d walk away with me, Sy?”

“I would.“

Translations of the French *,**,**:

* “How can I help you?”

** “Papa, who is it?”

*** “Papa, you remember Dean? From high school. We called him Sy back then.”

Taglists

Everything Henry: @sillyrabbit81 @kittenofdoomage @mayloma @kebabgirl67 @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @thesaucynomad @just-chirpin @henryownsme

Walk with Me only (I added you if you reblogged or asked and Tumblr would let me): @kingliam2019 @valacircareads @sofiebstar @cardierreh15 @firstcashheroathlete @ylva-syverson @sunriserose1023 @cavilladdict @angreav @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @peaches1958 @xhoneyxbeex @livisss @hangmanscoming

#henry cavill fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #syverson #august walker #fbi agent!syverson x ofc #drug czar!august walker x ofc #syverson au #august walker au #henry cavill #walk with me #mine #deandoesthingstome

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karahalloway · 4 months

Text

The Highwayman: Part I - Look For Me By The Moonlight

Fandom: TRR (Historical AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: On a dark, moonlit night, a highwayman's luck runs out...

Masterlist: The Highwayman

Chapter Summary: Harper and Drake make a plan...

Word Count: 3,600

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, references to smut, references to illegal activities)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: So... This installment took a bit of a turn. Harper and Drake sprung a massive change on me because apparently, the original story was not heartbreaking enough... You have been warned.

A/N2: Astute readers will probably notice that Drake and Harper 'sound' different in this fic. This is deliberate, because this fic is historical fiction (set in the 18th century), rather than contemporary fiction, so I adjusted their vernacular accordingly (that said, I didn't go full Shakespeare because I'm not that extra 😆).

A/N3: As promised, this is my first submission for @choicesprompts January 2024 Song Rewrite Challenge. The song I chose to rewrite is below. I hope to do Parts 2 and 3 shortly as well, but I can't promise both of them for January. But I might surprise myself!

Part I - Look For Me By The Moonlight

The wind lashes the black expanse of the moor, flattening the browned-out clumps of grass against the frozen ground.

I reach a gloved hand up to wedge my cocked hat more securely onto my head, in a bid to stop it from blowing away.

The surefooted Merèns I am sat on picks his way through the brush of gorse and heather, seemingly oblivious to my plight.

"Bloody weather..." I grumble under my breath as a particularly vicious gust cuts through the buttonholes of my knee-length justacorps, instantly snatching away any vestige of warmth I may have managed to salvage.

The horse flicks his ears at the sound of my voice, as if questioning my assessment.

"Your opinion doesn't count," I tell him through gritted teeth, trying to work some warmth back into toes that have become chilled to the bone.

Drogon throws me a flippant raspberry as we skirt ‘round a flat-topped cairn.

Just then, the wind blasts through the cracks in the rocks, causing a ghostly tune to whistles out into the cold of the night.

The coal-coated stallion flattens his ears against his head, tossing his head in displeasure at the unearthly sound.

"Not so cocky now, eh, mon gross?" I grin, reaching out to give him a reassuring pat on his neck.

The horse responds with a sour-faced snort, stepping quickly past the moss-covered waypost — a brazen reminder of this land's heathen roots.

Because despite the House of Rys' conversion to Christianity almost a millennia ago, in the far-flung reaches of the kingdom — where the roads ran out, and the name of the King is just that... a name — the tenet of the old ways is more than just a memory.

It is a living, breathing ethos. Suffused into the very heart of this harsh, rugged, yet beautiful land. Where portents, spells, and otherworldly creatures exist in the same breath as Christ, the Eucharist, and Judgement Day, and the very air crackles with mysticism and superstition.

Which is partly what drew me here — to the edge of the proverbial map, where the laws of Cordonia fray into irrelevance in the face of the jagged peaks of the snow-capped mountains, and your fortune is what you craft it to be.

Not that I can afford to be flippant with my conduct...

As even this far from the capital, the King's Greencoats still man outposts and send forth patrols in a bid to maintain order. But their presence is cursory at best. Because if you know the moor — like I do — it becomes simple to lose yourself in the mist.

Plus, the superstitious inclinations of the border folk have aided in cloaking my less than savoury operations in the guise of fireside tales — spreading news of my exploits while keeping my identity masked behind successive, and ever more fantastical embellishments.

The Black Cavalier. The Raven Rider. The Headless Huntsman. Midnight Jack.

These are all names I've carried over the years.

But — more often than not — I am referred to simply as The Highwayman.

For that is what I am. A bandit. An outlaw. A common rogue living on the wrong side of propriety with no hope of redemption. For I've committed far too many sins in this life.

I've lied, cheated, stolen, and fleeced. Not to mention evaded the Greencoats one too many times for their liking. So, I wouldn't be surprised if the promotion-hungry Captain Belvedere Beaumont — who has been after my head for years — keeps a noose specifically for me in his saddlebag.

Because, worst of all, I've killed.

I've taken men's lives at both gunpoint and sword-point. Sometimes they've even begged. But I've cut them down regardless.

The ultimate sin.

But, there has never been honour amongst thieves. And if an unfortunate bastard chooses to pull a weapon on me, then I'm going to make damn sure that that becomes his last mistake, not mine.

I like living too much.

Especially as — after nigh on one-and-half score years on this Earth— I have finally found something to live for.

From out of the darkness, a lone spec of golden light hoves into view, nestled between the lee of a pair of windswept hills.

And, in spite of the hellish nature of the night, I feel the corner of my mouth lift.

As gold and jewels — while pretty and useful — pass through your hands just as fast as you acquire them, and sure as hell don't keep you warm at night. That is... unless you have someone to share your treasure with.

"Hue!" I urge, nudging Drogon into a trot.

But the opinionated stallion clearly has other ideas. As after a mere two steps, he launches into a full-fledged canter.

Not that I can necessarily blame him. We've been on the road... or lack thereof, for hours, and the sight of the twinkling promise of reprieve from the cold is enough to warrant anyone — man, or beast — to pick up their feet.

But, instead of riding up to the front of the gable-arched establishment, I direct my steed 'round to the back.

Slipping out of the saddle in the shadow of the stable block, I pull my sabre carefully from its scabbard as I reach for the metal of the door handle.

Creaking the heavy wooden door open, I sneak a glance inside. A man of my profession — and reputation — cannot afford to be lenient. So, an over-abundance of caution is a must. As is a well-sharpened blade.

Four horses occupy the darkened space, their heads coming to poke out into the gangway to assess my arrival. And, apart from the barn cat dozing on a bale of hay in the corner, there is nary a soul in sight.

Pushing the door wider, I lead Drogon into the relative warmth of the structure. Espying an empty stall to my left, I direct the horse towards the manger affixed to the wall, when I suddenly hear the scrape of boots on the hard-packed earth behind me.

Whipping around, the cold metal of my sword flashes through the air, like the talons of a kite, seeking its target.

A loud gasp of surprise rises into the air as the point of the blade meets the soft flesh of the intruder's gullet.

"Please, sir!" cries Emile, the stable hand, in fright. "I only came to—"

"Drop that lantern, and there'll be almighty hell t' pay..." I warn, seeing the lantern that the youth is holding shake dangerously in his hand.

The last thing I need tonight is the barn catching fire.

The lad swallows nervously, but nods, tightening his grip on the brass handle.

"Anyone else about?" I ask, scanning the dark.

Emile jerks his head. "Jus' me an' Lupin..."

Glancing past him, I spot the bedraggled hound ambling towards its master on bowed legs.

Sheathing the weapon, I move back towards Drogon to unclasp the saddlebags. "Feed and water the horse, but leave him saddled. My business will be brief."

"Of course, sir," bobs the lad, having recovered control of his faculties somewhat.

Hefting the bags onto my shoulder, I reach into the hidden pocket of my coat. Pulling out a ha' piece of silver, I flip it to the boy.

He catches it with wide eyes.

"For the trouble," I tell him as I stride past. Glancing back from the doorway, I add, "And if anyone asks, you never saw me."

"Thank ye, sir!" he affirms, quickly pocketing the coin. "An’ welcome back t’ The Crown & The Flame!"

Slipping back out into the night, I make my way quickly along the side of the barn. Locating the weather-worn ladder that leads up to the hayloft, I quickly scale the somewhat slick rungs. Grabbing onto the extruding stone lintel above the hayloft door, I use the imperfections in the crumbling mortar to pull myself up onto the peat-lined roof.

Scrambling across the ridge of the gambrel, I draw upon my destination — a lone, casement window suspended on the side of the inn, the light of a single candle flickering within.

Crouching down, I cup my hands to my face. Taking a breath, I imitate the call of a cuckoo, hoping that it will carry over the sound of the wind rattling the shutters.

I wait a second... then two...

The window creaks open.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me..."

She is leaning against the side jamb, head cocked to the side as she regards me with a wry look, her long, flaxen hair lying half-pleated over one breast.

I scoff back at her as I pull the saddlebags from my shoulder. "Not a chance in hell, lass."

She rolls her eyes at me, but pushes the stile wider, nevertheless.

Securing my stance, I assess the distance. Raising my hand, I test the weight, and with a determined movement, send the pack sailing through the air.

Reaching her arms out, she catches it with practiced ease.

"It's heavy," she remarks, slotting the bags down.

"That a complaint I hear?" I ask dryly, straightening back up.

"'Tis merely an observation," she replies with a shrug, the soft cotton of her shift sliding seductively off her shoulder in the process.

I shake my head as I retreat back across the stable roof somewhat. This lass is going to be the death of me...

Turning back 'round, I take a couple of long-legged strides across the hardened peat, before throwing myself across the divide.

My gut drops like a leaden ball at the momentary sense of weightlessness — my actions at diametric odds with my God-given sense of self-preservation — as the passage of time seems to slow...

...but then my boot hits the metal sill of the window and the heavy hand of Chronos comes crashing back down on me like a hard wave against the shore.

Grasping the coolness of the central mullion, I pull myself into the haven of her room.

"God," she says with a shudder, throwing her arms 'round my neck. "You send a piece of my soul to the grave each time you do that..."

"You'd rather I take the stairs?" I drawl, the honey and wood-fire scent of her hair washing over me, warming me like the heat of the summer sun.

"And risk being caught?" she tuts. "In truth, I am not certain what would be the worse fate."

"Getting whipped by your father, for sure," I reply solemnly. "I don't think my pride could survive it."

She pulls back from me with an aghast look. "So, you would risk a broken leg... or worse, over my Da's ire?"

"Until the day I can make an honest woman of you, aye," I confirm, lifting her face to mine with a gloved finger. "I will not risk your reputation."

She laughs up at me. "You shredded my reputation when you tumbled me in the hay, good sir!"

"Aye," I concede with a smirk. "But no one knows that."

"Well, they might soon..." she admits, dropping a hand to the front of her shift.

The breath tangles in my throat. "You... You are not..."

Her hazel eyes sparkle with feeling. "With child... Yes."

Her words hit me like grapeshot out of the blue. "Nom de Dieu..."

Her smile falters in the face of my no-doubt ashen expression. "You... You are not pleased?"

I bark out a laugh. "Pleased? Mon coeur, I am over the damn moon!" Lifting her into the air, I spin her 'round in a joyous arc. "I believed myself to be blessed already for the fact that a golden-haired siren such as yourself even deigned to look at a wretch like me, much less offer me her heart."

"I offered nothing," she counters breathlessly as I set her back down. "You stole my heart the very moment you looked upon me."

"Lucky for me that I have some skill in that area," I smirk, bending towards her.

She lays into me with a playful smack. "Incorrigible rogue! Your silver tongue could disarm the devil!"

"I should hope so..." I murmur, tangling a hand in her silken hair. "It managed to disarm you..."

Our lips meet, and she melts against me with a sigh.

"Christ, I love you, Harper..." I groan, tightening the heartfelt hold I have on her, albeit mindful of the new life budding inside her.

"I love you too, Drake," she whispers, gazing up at me with complete adoration as she runs her fingers down my face. "With all that I am."

My heart constricts in my chest.

A child... Our child...

In truth, I never dared dream of it. It is not something that I believed to be in the cards for me, living as I do, in the shadow of the night... and the law. Where one simple miscalculation could end with a bullet to the gut... or a noose around the neck.

But I never thought to trade it. The thrill... The freedom... It was too addictive.

That is... until I chanced upon the bright-eyed lass currently cradled in my arms.

I hadn't meant to succumb to her. I hadn't meant to do anything quite as foolish as fall in love. But she managed to slay me with a single smile. And I've been a fool for her ever since.

Fool enough to get her child, it seems, before I even secured her father's blessing, much less married her!

I really am an incorrigible rogue...

"Drake?" The softness of her voice cuts through my senses. "My love? Are you—?"

"I am fine," I assure her, turning my head to drop a kiss into her palm. "I was just thinking..."

"Always dangerous..." she quips with a smirk.

"Hey," I counter, clasping her hands in mine. "It was a lack of thought that landed the two of us in this quandary, so—"

Her mouth parts in shock. "You dare call your own child a quandary?"

I meet her eye with a level look. "He will be called a damn sight worse if he arrives into this world out of wedlock. Not to mention the fate that awaits his mother..."

Her shoulders slump in dejection. "My father would disown me for sure..."

"And cast you out onto the moor, newborn babe in tow," I add grimly.

She heaves a morose breath. "I do despise it when you talk sense..."

"It is the thankless burden I was born to bear..."

She smacks me again.

"But in all seriousness," I continue, catching her hand in mine once more. "We must be prudent, mon coeur. The child will be here before we know it, and it is our precious duty to do best by him."

"How do you know it will be a he?" she asks softly as I lift her hands to my lips.

"Have I ever given you cause to doubt me, lass?" I ask her, feathering a kiss over her knuckles.

"Cocksure rake..." she admonishes. But her fingers tighten 'round mine nevertheless.

"So," I conclude, straightening back up, "I am thinking that it's high time we eloped."

Her eyes widen. "Elope!"

"There is a small church, about a half-day's ride from here—"

"But my father...!"

"The contents of that saddle bag should more than compensate him for the loss of his serving wench," I tell her. "As well as cover your dowry."

Her mouth opens — no doubt in planned protest — but she suddenly thinks better of it. "Alright," she agrees, raising her face to mine with a beaming smile. "Let's find that priest!"

"Whoa, whoa!" I chuckle, pulling her back into my arms as she tries to spin away. "Hold your horses, woman!"

"I thought you wanted to be quick about this," she counters.

"I do," I affirm. "But it's the middle of the night and I don't have a horse for you, much less a ring..."

She glances towards the window. "I am sure there's something in those bags we can misappropriate for our purposes. And I can saddle up Devlin. He is a cart-horse, but I am sure—"

I shake my head. "Nay. I want to start our new life together as a reformed man. No more thieving... No more profiting off ill-gotten gains."

"But how will we—?"

"Don't you worry your pretty head about that, my sweet," I assure her. "I have enough booty stashed away to buy you a palfrey, as well as a ring that is worthy of your otherworldly beauty—"

She blushes at my compliment. "Don't exaggerate, sir..."

"'Tis no exaggeration," I assure her with a wink. "And perchance even enough to let us acquire a flat in town, or a small holding in the interior... Or if none of that takes your fancy, I'll build us a cottage in the woods, or a cot by the sea, and—"

"I've never set eyes upon the sea..." she breathes in wonder.

"The point is," I conclude. "We have sufficient coin to afford ourselves the freedom of choice, mon coeur."

She arches a skeptical brow. "And when we run out?"

I let out a low exhale. "And when we run out, I suppose I'll have to pick up an honest trade."

She scoffs. "You? Honest? Those two words don't abide each other, Drake. You've been a scoundrel your whole life!"

"And yet... somehow,"I roll my eyes at her ruefully. "You are about to make an honest man out of me, Harper. So, I am loath to admit that the concept may not be as outlandish as it may appear at first blush."

"I suppose," she concedes with an equally wry quirk to her mouth. "Just don't lose your zest for life. It is the very thing I fell in love with."

"I thought it was my roguish charm," I counter.

"The two go hand in hand," she assures me, lifting her face to mine again.

Our lips fuse — with greater ardency this time — and I am loath to part from her.

But, I know that I must. The night is wearing on, and if I am to abide by my promise to her, I must get back on the road.

"Unpack the bags and hide the gold where your father is sure to find it," I tell her, pulling myself away with great difficulty.

She nods silently, cheeks flushed from our heated exchange.

Slipping out of my arms, she retrieves the saddlebags from their place by the wall and carries it to the other side of the room. Locating the loose floorboard at the foot of the bed, she dumps the contents in and replaces the covering.

"When will you return?" she asks, handing the bags back to me.

"As hastily as I can," I assure her. "But if the Greencoats are out in force, I may need to trek via the marshes, which will take longer and be more arduous."

"Please take care," she pleads, grasping my hand in hers. "The marshes are treacherous, especially in the winter."

"I always do," I soothe, reaching up to cup her face with my free hand. "But should I do not return by noon, then look for me by the moonlight."

"I will," she affirms, eyes shining with fervour. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mon coeur," I rasp, drawing her in for one final kiss.

She presses herself to me, as aggrieved by our forced parting as I, and I kiss her hungrily back. But I know in my heart that the brief absence will be worth the bitterness of the sorrow.

Because this time tomorrow, I hope to call her my wife.

Breaking off the kiss, I swing the empty bags back onto my shoulder and turn towards to the still-open window.

"Wait!"

Turning around, I spot her pulling the dark red ribbon from the unfinished pleat in her hair.

"What's this?" I ask as she holds it out for me.

"A good-luck charm," she replies. "To speed you back to me."

I lift the silken strip from her fingers, and press it to my lips. "I'll always return to you, mon coeur. Even if hell should bar the way."

"I know," she says simply. "But a small trinket cannot hurt your efforts. Now, fly! Fly like a witch on the wind! And give Drogon a kiss from me."

"I'd rather steal another kiss from you," I admit, tucking the ribbon against my heart.

"I'd rather save some for the wedding night..." she counters with a sly look.

I throw her a sidelong glance as I climb back onto the window sill. "Lass, you can rest assured that we'll be doing a damn sight more than kissing on our wedding night..."

The waves of her now loosened hair brush my shoulder as she leans in to whisper, "I didn't say which part of you I'm saving the kisses for."

A deep-throated groan tumbles from my lips as she drops a teasing kiss on my neck. "You're going to be the death of me, woman..."

"A little suspense never killed anyone," she counters cheekily.

"Somehow I doubt that," I scoff as I drop back into the night.

The story continues in Part II - On The Stroke Of Midnight

A/N: Translations for the French below:

Mon gross - lit. 'my fat' but as a slang term, it is the equivalent of 'my buddy' or 'my bro'.

Hue - apparently this is a somewhat archaic equestrian command that was used to tell the horse to go (equiv. to giddy-up). Not 100% sure if the e is supposed to have an accent, so if anyone knows, tell me!

Mon coeur - lit. 'my heart' but connotatively the same as 'my love'

Nom de Dieu - lit. ‘name of God’, but connotatively the same as ‘Oh, my God’ or ‘Good God’

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@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890

#harper gale #drake walker #the highwayman #trr au fanfic #choicespromts #song rewrite #historical au #Spotify

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sillyrabbit81 · 2 years

Text

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood Part 3

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Three Summary: Lori meets the Brothers.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 4 k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Three Warnings:

Masturbation, caught in the act, flirting, smutty thoughts, embarrassment, angst, fluff.

Authors Note: Thanks to @henryobsessed for beta reading.

I hope you enjoy it!

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Two Part Four

Lori

We had only been on the highway for a few minutes when I heard the other bikes. They drew up in formation and briefly took up all four lanes. Each rider was wearing their colours and full-face helmets so I couldn’t get a read on any of them, other than they all looked to be close to Sy’s size and build. Well, except one, who seemed a little slimmer, but was at least as tall as the others.

One of the riders signalled something to Syverson who inclined his head in response. Then two of the bikes pulled ahead while two others fell behind and they stayed that way for the rest of the journey.

The problem with being a pillion on a motorcycle, especially on a long stretch of highway, was that you didn’t have much to do except think.

It wasn’t something I normally had a problem with, I was fairly comfortable with my own company for the most part, but I had a lot on my mind and not a lot of it was pleasant.

There was one incessant thought, one that wouldn’t leave me alone despite how often I tried to ignore it. It was inescapable considering my arms were currently wrapped around the subject of those thoughts.

Syverson. He was a complication in my life that I didn't need right now.

The first problem was that he was attracted to me.

I shouldn’t be surprised really. Not because I thought of myself as remarkably good looking, but because he’s a biker and I’d heard the phrase “any hole is a goal” uttered too many times by guys like him to take his attraction as anything more than a passing interest.

When I realised he was checking me out, my first thought was that I should take advantage of it because if I got him on my side it might make dealing with him and the rest of the Brothers easier. So I played up the innocent girl act by biting my lip and looking wide-eyed. But if I'm honest with myself, it had only been partly an act.

The truth was I found Sy to be ridiculously hot.

And funny.

And honest.

And kind.

And sweet Jesus, when he swept his thumb over my lips I almost moaned.

Which was my second problem. I was attracted to him too.

Sy might appear a little different to most of the bikers I knew, but in the end, he was in the life and that meant he was not a viable option as a romantic partner. I’d seen too much heartache and too many failed relationships to go down that road.

I loved my mother, but I didn’t want her life. A life walking around a clubhouse wearing a patch that read “Property of ….” so other assholes don’t try to touch you, always being worried about his fidelity and the social stigma that comes from being associated. Not to mention the constant stress of knowing your partner could end up in jail or dead.

Still, there was no harm in flirting with him, right? Who knows how long I was going to be stuck with them, so what was the harm in having a bit of fun? I’m sure he’d be up for it. I've yet to meet a biker who wasn't keen for a bit of no strings attached sex.

No, not a good idea. Not with Sy anyway. I liked him too much already. He had made me laugh for God’s sake. After all the shit I’d been through, it only took one perfectly imperfect wink for me to melt. If he'd tried to pick me up in a bar and he wasn't in the life, there's no doubt in my mind I’d go home with him.

No. Hooking up with Sy would be too risky. The last thing I wanted was to catch feelings.

I concentrated on ignoring how hard his body was, how good he smelled, how blue his eyes were, and how cute his dimples were when he smiled.

Fuck. Maybe it was already too late.

After a couple of hours of fixating on Sy and arguing with myself, I finally found something that took my mind off it.

I was freezing.

The icy wind of the Arizona desert cut right through my jeans. My knees were starting to ache and my leg muscles cramped.

I huddled closer to Sy, leaning my head against his shoulder to use his huge form as a windbreak. It worked, mostly, but my hands were unprotected, my gloves were no longer enough to keep my fingers from growing numb. I started making fists, trying to keep the blood pumping, hoping it would warm me up.

I felt Sy take my hands, one at a time, and slip each into his unzipped pockets in the front of his jacket. Instantly they felt warmer, and once again I was surprised by his kind gesture.

I tightened my arms around him, hoping he’d realise I was trying to thank him. He seemed to understand and gave my knee a gentle pat. He left it there for a few moments, and I could feel the warmth of him heating my cold knee through his glove.

Ever so slowly, he moved his hand down my calf and rubbed it gently, as if he were massaging heat back into my cramping muscles, before he worked his way up again. I held my breath as he patted my thigh and I squeezed him tight again, this time tightening my thighs as well.

I suddenly didn’t feel quite as cold.

I was not going to fall for him, I was not going to let his tender gestures fool me. I was not going to be seduced by a few moments of sweetness and a nice smile and a strong body and amused eyes so clear and blue they were like the sky on a cloudless day.

No way. Not worth it.

As soon as the cold ebbed away, a sudden wave of weariness hit me and I felt tired. Dead tired.

The rumbling sound of the v-twin between my legs, its gentle vibration at this speed, and the smoothness of the road became a soothing lullaby, and I found myself dozing, suspended in the twilight between being awake and asleep. It made the final hours fly by and it wasn’t until we turned off the highway that I was able to stay awake.

By the time Sy and the other riders pulled into a motel it was very late, well after midnight, and I felt a little sorry for the other guests. Not many people can sleep through the sound of one set of aftermarket pipes, let alone five.

When Sy killed the engine, I groaned as a muscle in the bottom of my foot tightened. It was gonna take a minute for me to get off the damn bike and I was a little embarrassed as the others were already lifting their long legs over their rides and Sy was waiting patiently for me to dismount. The guy who had signalled Sy on the highway headed towards hotel reception immediately, not even taking the time to remove his helmet.

I took a deep breath and willed myself to clamber ungracefully off the bike. My legs protested, but I was able to clear the bike before they gave out and I stumbled into a firm body that caught me by the shoulders before I ate pavement.

“Ooft! Easy sweetheart.”

I looked up at a man with a beard similar to Sy’s, but his hair fell around his face in thick curls, almost like a cherub from an old painting. His blue eyes were serious and a little stern, even as a smile split his face and his voice was unexpectedly warm. My breath caught in my throat, he was gorgeous.

“Has Syverson already worn you out?” he asked in a gentle voice with a soft and polite English accent.

His hands held my upper arms, straightening me until I was standing again. My legs still felt like jelly, and not just because of exhaustion. I was right when I thought the other riders were as big as Sy, this guy was at least as burly. But unlike Syverson this guy had the appearance of a cranky grizzly, having little of Sy’s playfulness despite his smile.

“Ease up, Marshall,” Sy said. I looked at him gratefully and one side of his mouth turned up in a smile in return.

“She’s fine,” Marshall said, and I turned back to him.

He was staring at me, his head tilted to the side showing off a large black and grey rose tattoo on his neck and a small gage in his ear. He looked like he was studying me, and from the wolfish grin on his face, he seemed to like what he saw. My heart started to race, thundering so loud I thought there was no way he couldn’t hear it.

“Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

I nodded slowly and Marshall tentatively let me go, keeping his hands close as if he thought I would fall again. Once he was satisfied I could stand on my own accord, he loosened the straps of my helmet and gently took it off before smoothing my tousled hair. He tucked the helmet under his arm while he helped me take my gloves off and shoved them into the helmet.

Two more bikers flanked Marshall. Both were unbelievably appealing too. One of them drew my attention immediately because of his unusual and striking appearance. He had silvery-white hair pulled back into a braid which isn’t unusual in itself but his face wasn’t that of an old man; he looked to be in his late 30s. The other was younger, probably my age, no way was he over 25. He appeared to have a youthful enthusiasm that I hadn’t seen in the others.

I stared at all four of them with my mouth no doubt agape. These weren’t bikers, these were models, each one more attractive than the last.

“I’m Mike,” the younger one introduced himself, grinning broadly.

He was cute and cheerful, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle as if he knew something you didn’t. He had a barbell piercing through his eyebrow and a small stud in one of his ears. There was a glimpse of a tattoo that poked above his jacket and up his neck, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

I instantly liked him and returned his affable smile. In a way, he reminded me of my brother before the drugs and the club sucked the life out of his eyes. I stuck my hand out to give him a shake, but before I could introduce myself, he threw his arms wide and wrapped them around my waist. He squeezed with a groan and lifted my feet off the ground. I yelped but started to giggle; I was not expecting this level of flirtation within seconds of meeting him. I liked it though, his flirtations came across as playful and fun rather than sleazy.

“Mike,” Sy barked.

“Fuck, alright.” Mike put me down but not before he whispered in my ear, “He never lets me have any fun.”

Mike planted a quick kiss on my cheek and let me go. Marshall must have seen because he smacked the back of Mike’s head.

“Fucking creep,” Marshall reprimanded.

I was worried that it would go further than that, but Mike just chuckled and rubbed the back of his head like it was something he was used to.

Sy stood beside me and laid a heavy arm lightly around my shoulders, directing my attention to the other biker.

“This old man is Geralt,” he said, smirking.

Geralt gave Sy a weary look from beneath lowered brows before he offered me his hand with a half-smile. I took it and I gasped as I looked at his eyes, I had never seen such bright amber eyes in real life before. They were beautiful and appeared to shine even in the darkness of the car park. I opened my mouth to tell him my name when I heard another voice behind me.

“Syverson.” A set of keys were thrown at Sy, which Sy caught easily in one hand. “Take the client to her room, you take the first watch.”

I turned to the guy, he wasn’t looking at me, his eyes were on Marshall, throwing him another set of keys.

“Marshall, you’re with Mike, second, third shift. Geralt, you’re with me, fourth, I’m fifth. Any questions?”

I felt Sy stiffen, seeming to bristle at the orders. This last Brother was obviously in charge and when he finally looked in my direction, I could see why.

He took my breath away. He was just as attractive as the others but he had a next level aura of danger that the others couldn’t compete with. He shouldn’t be so good looking; by all rights his Tom Selleck moustache should look ridiculous, but it somehow didn’t.

“Walker,” he said simply.

“Lori,” I managed to mumble. There was something about Walker that simultaneously made me feel hot and cold. He wasn’t tattooed or pierced the way the others were, but he was far more intimidating than the rest of the Brothers.

He smirked and raised his eyebrows as he looked me up and down.

“She’s pretty,” he said, while still appraising me, and obviously not addressing me, “but I don’t get what all the fuss is about.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as anger and embarrassment swirled within me. I was tired, sore, and been through hell in the two weeks since my parents had been killed; the last thing I wanted to do was get into an argument in a car park. But I knew if I was going to get any respect from this guy I couldn’t let his rudeness slide. I knew guys like Walker and I couldn’t let him get away with shit like that or he’ll think he can walk all over me.

I was also too exhausted to fight, too tense, so I snatched the keys and my bag out of Sy’s hands and made my way to the room.

“Jesus, Walker,” Sy said behind me. “Do ya always have to be such an asshole?”

If Walker replied, I didn’t hear it.

I opened my room and slammed the door closed, locking it behind me. I went straight for the bathroom, dropping my pack carelessly on the bed and stripping off my clothes as I went.

The room was basic but clean and well maintained, however the bathroom left a lot to be desired. I took one look at the showerhead and knew it wouldn’t be the best shower of my life.

When I turned the water on, the pressure was so hard I had to cover my nipples before I could stand to be under the spray. But the water was blessedly hot and was exactly what I needed to soothe away the aches and pains of the ride.

I leaned my forehead against the tiles and took advantage of the harsh spray, letting the water massage my back. It felt good, real good, and as my thoughts started to drift, a familiar need began deep in my core as my body cried out for my nearly nightly ritual before I slept.

My hand moved slowly over my breasts, nipples hardening under my fingers, I turned around, the water pressure no longer hurt, the stinging pain only served to heighten my arousal. I pressed my back against the cool tiles as my hand drifted lower, the competing temperatures made my skin feel electrified, sensitive to every touch. My fingers danced slowly over my belly, getting lower, and lower until they slid over the small patch of hair on my mound. I shivered as the pads of my fingers ghosted over my clit, seeking the warmth and slick of my throbbing heat.

A moan escaped my throat as I slid two fingers inside me, curling them deeply, feeling for that smooth spongy spot. It was hard to reach at this angle, so I widened my legs, curled my spine and groaned as I found it.

I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts wander, thinking for a moment of Jake, my sometimes fuck buddy, but quickly my thoughts shifted, and it was no longer his face I saw in my mind.

Images of Sy came quickly, the way he felt as I held him while we rode. How he had caressed my leg sent shivers up my spine as I imagined him touching me like that again, skin against skin.

But that wasn’t all, I thought of all of them, Marshall, Mike, Geralt, wondered how each of them would feel. Would their hands be rough on my skin? Would their lips be soft on mine? Would they grunt and groan? Would they whisper words of praise in my ear? Were they dominant, or primal, or tender, or giving, or maybe all of it at once? I know I shouldn’t let these men invade my fantasies, but God, I couldn’t stop.

Then I thought of Walker with that smirk, that teasing grin that made me want to both slap him and drop to my knees.

“Fuck,” I mumbled as my thighs started to tremble.

“Fuck!” cried a louder, deeper voice.

I froze. I became a deer in headlights as I looked towards the door and saw a figure distorted by the thin layer of condensation that clung to the glass of the shower.

Snapping into action, I swiped an arm across the glass catching a fleeting glimpse of a wide-eyed Sy as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

I turned the water off and grabbed a towel, my breath coming in heaves, my guts churning as my face burned with embarrassment.

Okay. Think about this clearly. He couldn’t have actually seen anything, the glass was too fogged up.

He had heard though, there was no doubt about that.

Oh God.

I had been thinking about him, and the others too. I had left the bathroom door open and everything, he’s going to think that I did that on purpose. But I didn’t, I had locked the door to the room and…

Asshole!

Fury overtook my shame and I stormed out of the bathroom.

“You pervert! I locked the door.”

Sy was standing by the window, peeking through the curtains. His jacket was off, slung over the back of a chair and a silver handled gun was strapped to his thigh. He turned slowly, taking in my appearance and sucked on his bottom lip as he took a few steps towards me.

“It’s a hotel, Babycakes. They have spare keys.”

“My name is Lori and I would have thought a locked door meant I wanted privacy.”

Shrugging, he grinned. “You ain’t gonna get much privacy until we get to the Clubhouse.”

“What? You’re staying in here?” My voice was a little shrill but Sy nodded and I shook my head. “No. I thought you’d wait outside the door. I don’t want to be sleeping here with… men I don’t know.”

I almost said Walker but stopped myself. Oddly he was the only one I didn’t feel like I could trust.

“You scared of us, baby?” Sy asked in a low voice.

The back of his fingers skimmed over my still damp shoulder and down my arm. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, his touch was eerily similar to what I had just been fantasising about, gentle yet deliberate, hot and thrilling.

“Why?” My voice was huskier than I hoped it would be. “Does that turn you on? Is that the kind of sick shit your club is into?”

“Not at all,” Sy replied steadily, smirking, “I like my women willin’.” He cupped a hand under my jaw, lifting my chin higher. “Did ya finish the job in there?”

My eyes widened in shock, I didn’t think he would be so bold as to come right out and say what he saw. He chuckled as his hand slid down my neck, resting on the bare skin of my chest.

“I could give ya a hand if ya want,” Sy said, his voice seemed lower if that was possible, deeper, rougher, deliberately seductive, “Might feel good.”

“Is that a standard service you offer as part of your contract or…?”

I tried to sound disinterested, but my voice betrayed me. I was breathless, my body was a hot, throbbing mess. Sy licked his lips and my eyes were drawn to them. They looked so plush and inviting, and the whiskers surrounding his mouth seemed so soft.

“It’s an optional extra,” Sy shrugged and his fingers traced the edge of my towel, “But for you, I’ll throw it in for free, no charge.”

“No thanks.”

It’s what I said but it’s not what I meant. I said no out of habit, having said no to men like him my entire life. It was a lie and an obvious one. My fingers were already sinking into his beard, and I could feel him clench his jaw beneath my touch and his nostrils flared. Taking half a step closer, I met his eyes. They were hooded, dark and still held a glimmer of amusement. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, the other snaked around my waist, resting on the small of my back.

“Then how ‘bout I eat ya pussy cause I want to?”

He pulled me closer, our bodies met and his fingers slid into my hair. I put a hand to the centre of his chest, I had every intention of pushing him away and he must have known because he held me tighter, pressing his hardness into my hip.

“’Cause I wanna hear ya make those noises again, but this time I want you to make ‘em because of me.”

My core fluttered, no it was more than that, every muscle in my body seemed to quiver with anticipation of his offer, and dear God did he have the confidence of a man that knew he could deliver.

“No thanks,” I managed to utter. Barely.

Sy’s grin didn’t waver as he inhaled deeply and let me go.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug and went back to his position by the window.

It took me a minute to get my bearings. I was completely dumbstruck, still overwhelmed by Sy even though he was now across the room.

I cleared my throat and swallowed hard. Fuck me, was I in trouble here.

Sy glanced at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk.

“You’re really gonna stay here all night?” I asked.

“For a couple of hours, then one of the others will take over,” he said, his voice sounding a little more serious and matter of fact than it had moments ago.

I didn’t like the sound of that. All five of them coming and going in my room while I slept, me not knowing who I’d wake up to?

Despite Sy’s advance or maybe because of it, I felt like I could trust him and would rather he stayed with me than the others. Having to keep an eye on one horny biker would be easier than having to watch out for five.

I took my bag from the bed and dressed in the bathroom, with the door closed. Though I was beat, I blow dried my hair with the shitty hair dryer the hotel had attached to the wall before braiding it.

While I was brushing my teeth I looked at my pyjamas in the mirror, realising now why Sy had chuckled when he saw them. When I packed, I had no idea the Brothers would actually be in my room with me. The tank top was so thin you could see the dark pinkish skin around my nipples.

The thought made my body warm. Part of me liked the thought of them seeing me like this. But I knew it would be a mistake to go down that road. Nope, my pussy would be a barren wasteland for the foreseeable future.

Pointedly not looking at Sy, I went back into the room and grabbed my shirt from the floor, turning it the right way round and slipping it on over the top.

First thing I was going to do when I got to the clubhouse was buy new pyjamas.

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getthisbread · 2 years

Note

Hello!

I think ur writing is pretty neat and was wondering if I could get head cannons of what it would be like to be in a polyamorous relationship with Jay and Cole? (Gender neutral reader) It’s totally ok if ur uncomfortable writing for poly, if so just make it separate pls. Also could you add in a little scenario where Jay, Cole and their s/o are fighting over something (probably something dumb lmao especially Cole and Jay) and then they do something stupid and start laughing over it? Btw I might draw out the scenario so pls let me know if I should tag u if I do. Thank you so much and hope ur having a good day!! :))

Gentle with me

I would be so happy if you drew this omfg- thank you for the request!!! I am totally fine with poly!! I kind of made a reference to Cole x Jay in my last post lmao.

title creds: Touch tank, Quinnie

summary: These boys share one brain cell but, their stupidity is more often endearing than not. <3

Cole Brookstone, Jay Walker (poly) x gn!reader

The road to where you are now was not easy, by any means. Starting to date your now boyfriends was very rough at times, the both of them had trouble coming to terms with the fact that they liked each other and you. In the beginning, there wasn't any communication, Jay, being more emotional thought Cole hated him. Cole didn't exactly realize something was wrong at first, (he's a little dense.)

After a very long heart to heart, the beginning of the relationship was a bit awkward. Jay was raised in a very loving and open home, so affection towards the both of you came a lot easier than it did for Cole. Cole and Lou were never exactly close, and when Lilly passed away, it created an even bigger rift between them. It took Cole a bit, but he does become more open to giving and receiving affection.

Once you have settled into being with them their regular bullshit resumes! Sometimes you will sit in on their hobbies, you and Jay watching drooling over Cole working out, he legitimately looks like a Greek God. Or, you and Cole watching Jay tinker with his creations, he's so cute when his face is all scrunched up in concertation. <3 They like to watch you work too!! It doesn't matter what it is, you could be doing paperwork for all they care, they just want to take in everything about you.

Having two S/O's that are BOTH ninjas definitely makes you worry about every little thing, how it could go wrong, etc. But, on the other side of that coin, Jay and Cole often worry that a villain will hurt you to get to them. So all in all, everyone is worried about each other.

Cole and Jay will have you constantly laughing, the would kill to see you smile. Constantly cracking jokes, pulling pranks, and so much more!!! Anything for your beautiful laugh!

It was just another average day on The Destiney's Bounty, and by average, you meant Jay was pouting because Cole ate his cake! "The nerve! To think, my own boyfriend would steal MY cake! It had my name on it and everything!" Jay ranted. "I'm sorry, okay! I wasn't exactly looking for a name tag! I just saw cake and ate it!" Cole whined back. They be at it all day if I don't step in, you thought. "Cole you of all people should know food is sacred, and Jay, I'm completely sure that if Cole knew it was yours he wouldn't have eaten it. So just kiss and make up already." you said, trying to ease the tension.

Later that night, you and Jay had already settled into bed, Jay being fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But, you were still awake, waiting for Cole to join you both in bed. After 10-ish minutes, Cole still hadn't come to bed, Where is he? You thought as you slipped out of the covers, careful to not wake Jay.

As you walked down the hall, you noticed the kitchen light still on. Curious, you walked into Cole frosting a lopsided blue cake. "What're you doing hon?" You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "It's an apology, I didn't realize it was his cake, so I made him another one! No too shabby if I do say so myself." Cole responded. Eyes now adjusted to the light, you got a better look at the cake, the frosting was patchy, it was leaning to the left, and he even spelled 'sorry' wrong. In black letters at the top of the cake it said 'Sorrry Jay' 'sorry' having three r's in this instance. You took the frosting spatula from Cole wordlessly, and started to even the frosting. You didn't fix the 'sorry' though, you thought it was funny.

After placing the cake in the fridge, you and Cole went to bed. The next morning, you and Cole were still asleep when you heard a girlish scream come from the kitchen. Jolting up, and booking it to the kitchen, you burst into the unsightly scene before you. Jay on his knees, Cole's masterpiece of a cake strewn on the floor before him. One look at the scene had you and Cole howling in laughter. "Don't laugh! This is the second time I've lost a cake!" Jay cried. "We'll make another together, don't worry." you managed to get out between giggles. Jay soon joined in laughing with you both, because while he did lose his cake, he got to make another with the people he loves. <3

I'm not sick anymore and I couldn't be happier!!!! I have my cat to thank for nursing me back to health, he's my baby. :) Also, summer can be a time when people feel alone, so if you need someone to just talk to, my dm's are always open to everyone. Love you all <3

#cole ninjago #ninjago x reader #cole brookstone #ninjago jay #ninjago #ninjago cole #jay walker #jay ninjago #cole brookstone x reader #jay walker x reader #cole x reader #cole x jay

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 months

Text

Everything Has Changed--Ch. 28

Chapter 28

Nick

“No. No effing way,” I snapped at Matt as we stood beside my Nissan in the parking lot of LAX. “You can go without me.”

Matt rolled his eyes and banged his forehead against the roof of the car a few times. “Nick, come on. We don’t scratch, and we’re booked for a trio. You’re going to have to get over it eventually.”

“Like hell I do!”

“What are you going to do, avoid Kenny forever?”

Anger flared up in my chest and I shoved away from the car. I laced my hands over my head, tugging down on my Clippers hat. What did Matt expect me to do? He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen what Kenny had done to Shaye. He had no fucking clue how she’d completely broken when she’d seen Kota come out that door. My brother knew that Kenny could have a selfish streak, and there was no doubt that he was so absolutely enmeshed with Kota Ibushi for the rest of his life.

Behind me, Matt let out an exasperated sigh. “Help me out here, Nick. I don’t understand how it was so bad that you’re willing to bust up the Elite. To end the Young Bucks.”

“I never said I wanted to stop wrestling with you!”

A pressure started to build up behind my eyes.

“It’s pretty much the same thing, man. The three of us said we’re going to do this together,” my brother said with a forced calm. “If the Elite are over, what’s the point?”

My teeth clenched, and I swear I thought I was going to scream. I tugged on the brim of my hat and paced along the paint line beside the car. The longer it went, the more I felt as if the whole world had turned against me. That no matter what things he’d done, Kenny Omega would always be able to get away with anything.

I threw up my hands. “Okay then. If that’s how you see it, then fine. I’m done.”

Matt’s eyes went wide, almost as if he couldn’t believe that I’d actually said the words. “What? Nick…”

“No. I’m out. You and Kenny tag together. I’m sure you’ll be fantastic.” The words dripped in sarcasm as they fell out of my lips. I shoved my way past him and yanked the door open. “Find your own fucking way home.”

Before Matt could say another word, I started the car and peeled out of the space. Maybe it wasn’t fair to leave him in the middle of the parking lot at LAX. But just then I didn’t care. It was me or Kenny. And it looked like my brother—my best friend—had chosen Kenny.

***

Shaye

It was sickening how easy it was. I wanted to hate myself for every breath I drew because I’d fallen back into this rhythm with Kenny within a matter of days that made me feel somehow sick inside. Dirty. As if I were doing something horrible.

Damon hadn’t spoken to me since that night I caught him sneaking out his bedroom window. He wouldn’t even look at me. I knew with every fiber of my being that I’d let him down. That I’d turned out to be what he thought I was—just another extension of our parents who looked at him and saw him as a screw up. It didn’t matter that I didn’t really think that way. My brother had convinced himself that I did, so there was no changing it. Damon Walker was as stubborn as traffic in midtown at rush hour.

“Do you know when you’re coming back here?” I asked, absolutely hating the whining neediness in my voice. I sank beneath the covers on my bed, pulling them up to my chin.

“This weekend. I’ll be in California for a couple shows with the Bucks,” Kenny replied in that smooth, low tone of his that felt like sinking into a steaming hot bath. There was still something about him—even knowing everything that had happened and every lie that he’d told—that could ease me down to my bones.

I sucked in my breath at the mention of the Young Bucks. I’d pretty much cut off contact with Nick Jackson after the last time we’d spoken. It wasn’t fair to him, whatever this was. “Oh, awesome.”

“Why? Do you want to come?” It wasn’t hard to imagine that he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about that prospect.

“No!” The word came out in a half croak, half scream. “I mean, it’s okay. I have work anyway.”

Kenny chuckled, and I felt a shiver rush down my spine. Like someone had dropped ice in the back of my shirt. “Don’t want to see me?” When he spoke again, his voice was hard. “Or don’t you want to see Nick?”

“I…” My heart dropped into my toes. I thought I was going to vomit. “I…”

The laughter that came down the line was dark and heavy. I’d never heard his voice like that. “Shaye, are you hiding something?”

My guts turned inside out. I couldn’t breathe. My mouth was dry, filled with cotton and sandpaper. I gagged as I tried to suck in air to keep from throwing up.

“I… I’m… I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I whispered, too afraid to speak any louder. Tears burned the back of my eyes. “I just can’t. I can’t come to California.”

“You weren’t invited anyway,” he said flatly.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the world started spinning beneath me. The words were so angry, so hurtful. It felt like he’d slapped me. “I know.”

Kenny took a breath, almost as if he had to work up the patience to stay on the phone with me. Who is this person? I thought. This isn’t Kenny.

“Come on, Shaye,” he said at last, his voice returning to something resembling his normal timbre. “I’m messing with you. If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. It’s okay.”

A piece of the knot in my chest let go, but there was still a sense of ice and lead deep in my stomach. I hated myself for this. For how easy it had been for him to drag me back, even if I’d walked right back into the fire of my own free will.

***

Nick

“What the hell did you do?” Sam screamed at me from the other end of the phone. “Why am I driving to fucking LA to pick Matt up because you left him in the parking lot of the airport?”

I rolled my eyes and thought about throwing the phone out the window. “Sam, I really need you to stop calling me and yelling. Or just yelling in general.”

“Don’t cop an attitude with me, Nick Jackson,” she growled. “I had to leave the studio after I’d just back varnished a brand-new canvas to drive to LAX through traffic to pick him up. You are not going to talk to me like that.”

“I’m not doing this. Not right now, not later, not tomorrow.” My head throbbed. I was more exhausted than I could ever remember being after a loop. “I just want to go home and crash. Please, leave me alone.”

She went quiet for maybe the first time since I’d known her. The silence stretched for several minutes, so long that I thought the call had dropped. Then I heard her voice, sharp as glass. “Okay. Fine.”

Then she hung up.

I slammed the heel of my hand into the steering wheel and swore as I threw my phone into the passenger seat. This day just kept getting better and better.

________________________

Tag List

@imagineall-the-fandoms

@lilred91

@maelleoute

@not-that-kinda-gurl08

@writtingrose

@hungmanhorsecarriage

@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin

@thenerdybaker523

@mrsmatt

@spaghetti-hoop

@wardlowsbabydoll

@ryantaylorgirl

@theawkwardadorable

#everything has changed #nick jackson #nick jackson fanfiction #kenny omega #kenny omega fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #ofc #oc #shaye walker #elite universe #multi-chapter #in a day or two

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catierambles · 9 months

Text

The bag was ripped from her head and she blinked a little in the light, flicking her head to get her hair out of her face.

"If you wanted to speak with me, Mr. Hunt," She said, "You could have just made an appointment. You needn't have resorted to all of...this." She would have gestured to her surroundings, had her hands not been bound behind her. "Oh, hello." She said, smiling pleasantly at Benji and Luthor. "I don't believe we've met. Cait Logan, a pleasure."

"Who is he?" Ethan asked and she cocked her head at him quizzically. "The man pretending to be August Walker. Who is he?"

"He's not pretending to be anyone. He is August Walker." She said.

"Bullshit." Benji said.

"Unless I brought a different man who was killed by being brained by a cargo hook and falling down a mountain back to life." She mused, "Possible. Highly unlikely, but possible, I suppose."

"You brought him back life?" Luthor asked incredulously. "How?"

"I mended his wounds and breathed life back into him." She said simply, as if it were obvious.

"You're being pretty candid with it." Ethan pointed out.

"I'm far too old for subterfuge." She scoffed, "Besides, no one believes the truth anyway."

"How did you bring him back to life?" Benji asked, "How were you able to?"

"To say that I am not as I appear would be a gross understatement."

"What are you?" Ethan asked.

"What I am is beyond your comprehension. I was already very old when this world was young and let's leave it at that." She said and Luthor snorted.

"You're out of your damn mind." He said and she gave him a look.

"Why does he want me dead?" Ethan asked.

"Mr. Hunt, August died with a singular focus in his heart and that was ending your life. Until he fulfills that, he will never rest."

"Not unless I kill him first."

"Good luck with that one. I brought him back to life, and therefore his life is tied to mine. As long as I live, so will he, and--" Ethan drew his gun and fired. "If you had let me finish, I would have told you that I cannot be killed. Interrupting people is really quite rude."

"Holy shit." Benji whispered. "What the hell are you?"

"I am the thing that made your primitive ancestors huddle around their fires at night, thinking the light would keep them safe." She said and the darkness around them started to creep closer, "I am a devourer of worlds and a mother of creation." Inky black tendrils reached out of the darkness towards them, searching and seeking. "My true form would drive you insane and force you to claw the eyes from your skull, just to try to unsee what you have seen."

"Why him?" Ethan asked. "Why Walker?"

"Many eons ago, I cast little pieces of myself out into the aether, just to see where they would fall." She said, "August has one such piece inside of him. His is bigger than others. Not by much, but bigger. I knew when he was born, I saw his life, and I knew when he died. He is a part of me that I wish to keep."

"You're his mother?" Luthor asked.

"No." She snorted, "I am not responsible for his creation."

"But if he has a part of you inside him..."

"Do you consider the recipient of a blood transfusion the child of the donator?" She asked, "Of course not."

"So you're what?" Ethan asked, "Some kind of cosmic eldritch being?"

"More Lovecraft than Giger, but basically." She said with a shrug. "You cannot stop him, Mr. Hunt, anymore than you could stop me. His is a singular focus, and he will not stop until he is done and you are dead. The easiest thing for you to do is to get on your knees and beg for a mercy that will not come, and hope he makes it quick."

#henry cavill #august walker

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monin1ca · 2 years

Note

Hii!! Can i request for an angst but afterwards they make up, yoru x reader ty!! Btw i love your stories ♡︎♡︎（sorry if my english is horrible it isnt my first language!)

Kiss and Make up (Yoru x fem! reader)

Word count: 610

Warnings: angst with comfort at the end, cursing, suggestive towards the end

Yoru was a stubborn man, maybe even you were more stubborn than him.

“Y/n, there’s no more time to defuse! Get out!” You hear Yoru com through your earpiece, taking cover from the bullets, pressing your earpiece “There’s time! I can defuse and complete the mission-” ” Don’t be fucking stupid, agh-!” “Yoru?!” On the other hand, Yoru was covering you whilst you defused the spike. There was a mirror Phoenix attempting to stop the defuse and shot Yoru’s arm. You were pissed and worried for him, in a panic you turned off your comms and summoned a shield to cover you. You continued defusing when a nano swarm fell in front of you and exploded; enduring the pain, you kept defusing. “Y/n? Y/n?!” Yoru frantically comms and gets no response, he just finished killing the mirror and ran back to the site. Upon arriving, he saw your shield covering you and a mirror Killjoy that was about to throw a swarm; he drew his gun and shot the Killjoy. The latter fell and chuckled softly “You are too late, she’s going to die from the first nano swarm and the spikes going to explode”

“ くそ.” Yoru gasps, briefly the spike stops beeping and your shield goes down; revealing your torn clothes and unconscious body. Running over to you he checks your pulse and sighs contently, glad that you are still with him. “We’re here, apologies for the late arrival we were held back by some distractions. What happened here?” Brimstone and Sage arrived late, the healer rushed over to you and tended to you. “Well done both of you, the rest of us will clean up and get samples and move out.”

Your body felt sore as you woke up to the herbal smell of Sage’s clinic, looking around you saw Yoru rushing to your side. “ You fucking idiot! What were you thinking?!! You- You could’ve died!” Instead of comforting words you heard harsh words, you scrunched your face. “I agree Yoru what I did was risky, but I did the mission, and I-” “So? This goddamn mission would mean nothing if you’re not here with me.” The rift walker cuts you off, your heart skips a beat when you hear those words. Your boyfriend storms off, leaving you alone in the room.

Thankfully Sage’s healing worked miracles on you, and you were out of the clinic in a day. You ran off looking for Yoru, asking about other on his whereabouts; when finally you found him at the rooftop gazing upon the view. “Yoru.. I…” You stumbled over your words, he turns around, looking at you with interest. “I know what I did was risky and your completely right, I’ve put myself in your shoes and understood your point of view and I’m sorry. I-” You stopped rambling when he hugged you, pulling away after a while. Placing his lips on yours, you pressed yourself against him to feel more close and more content. You part your lips allowing him to slip his tongue into your warm cavern, your hands found his silky black and blue hair. Tugging it softly to tell him you need to breathe, at your actions, he pulled away, and a string of saliva connected the both of you. “Just don’t do it again, yeah?”

Author’s note: I WAS LOOKING AT THE REQUESTERS(??) NAME AND WAS LIKE SHOULD I WRITE A SMUT CONTINUATION FOR THIS??? JUST LMK AND I HOPE YALL ENJOYED <33 TY ALSO FOR THIS PERSON FOR REQUESTING!!!

#yoru valorant #valorant #valorant imagines #yoru x reader #valorant yoru #angst with a happy ending #yoru #yoru smut #smut

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ilongfor-the-arts · 1 year

Note

hello! i would like to request a mix of angst and fluff for kit x fem reader! i was thinking of a secret romance between kit, the most known person, and reader, the least known person. kit gets out first and then since the reader is the patient that no one worries about, kit breaks her out of briar. no one notices. i think you’d do really great at something like this!

The Sweet Escape

Pairing: Kit Walker x fem! Reader

Warnings: heavy kissing, mild touching in a closet, language

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 2k

I always seemed to blend into Briarcliff's shadows. I was never one to turn heads. I suppose I shouldn't be too upset. The majority of the people trapped within this torture chamber couldn't form a coherent thought. But it was still depressing to be the one who was constantly pushed into the corners. At least, that's what I was, until Kit Walker appeared. I remember him approaching me while I was eating and asking, in his thick accent, what I was doing all by my lonesome. We'd been hooked on each other ever since. Briarcliff wasn't high school, and I certainly didn't expect a romance to bloom within its bleak walls. Nonetheless, I consider myself fortunate.

To be honest, I have no idea why he clung to me. Perhaps it was because we were both young and looking for a way to divert our attention from the tragedy that was unfolding within the walls of Briarcliff. Regardless of the reason, I was grateful to have someone like Kit Walker in my life. Even if it was only for a brief moment as we navigated the difficulties of maintaining sanity within an asylum.

Kit pressed my back against the cool supply closet wall. The thin hospital gown offered little protection against the moisture that had accumulated on the bricks. It didn't bother me. Kit's hot body ensured that I stayed warm. My short nails raked across his scalp, eliciting a low moan from the back of his throat. His noises were swallowed by my mouth. Kit's hands gripped my waist tightly. Because of the thin fabric, I could feel every rough callus decorating his overworked palms. Our soft mouths moved in perfect unison.

“Kit.”

I groaned, only wanting to say his name. Kit grabbed my thigh and hiked it up to his waist, his tongue pushing past my teeth to further explore my mouth.

“I want you so bad.”

He snarled against my lips. A moan ripped through my body as I felt his growing erection pressed to my clothed core. The blood rushed to my cunt, my panties growing wet with desire.

“Kit.”

I said, this time with more urgency.

“Yes?”

He said, pulling back, a soft blush coating his porcelain skin.

“We shouldn’t do this right now. It’s only a matter of time before Sister Jude realizes you're missing from movie night.”

Kit rolled his eyes, pressing his hot mouth to my jugular. My neck grew lax, and my head fell back against the cold wall.

“Let them find us. Let them find us with my cock inside you.”

Oh God, it was so hard to resist him. My nails dug into his strong shoulders, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment. I desperately wanted him to bend me over and fuck my silly. But, the rational side of me knew that wasn’t a smart move.

Kit’s hand crawled up my thigh, brushing over my clothed clit once he reached my hot core.

I whimpered, the featherlight touch bringing me back to reality.

“Kit, we can’t get caught.”

I reached down, gently shoving his hand away from my desperate cunt. Kit drew back, an over exaggerated pout on his beautiful face.

“Are you sure baby?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Kit gradually lowered my leg to the floor until I was standing on two feet. We stayed close for a few seconds longer, not wanting to leave each other's company.

“When we’re both free I’ll take you somewhere nice. Then we can fuck for real.”

Kit said, a large smirk plastered on his adorable face. I scoffed.

“That sounds lovely.”

I sighed deeply.

“Although, I hate to say it but I think I'm here for life. Whereas you’re free once they discover you’re innocent.”

Kit licked his lips and shook his head.

“I’ll get you outta here, I promise. Once I’m free I’ll do everything in my power to get you outta this godforsaken place.”

The following day, a shocking discovery was made public. Bloody Face was apprehended. Kit was completely innocent! Everything I had been wishing for had finally come true. Unfortunately, I overlooked the fact that once his innocence was established, there would be no reason for him to remain in the asylum. He was released soon after the shocking discovery, leaving me alone. He could only say a quick goodbye before being shunned through the doors into the free world.

I was delighted for him. We were always talking about what we would do once we were released, but I never imagined I'd be witnessing Kit's liberation. It made me want to be free even more than ever. Despite my joy, it was difficult to transition from someone with no status to a topic of conversation to a mere wallflower amongst the craziness. Living in a gray box with crazed nuns was difficult, but Kit made life much easier. Once Kit was released, there was nothing else to live for.

Well, aside from his promise.

“I’ll get you outta here, I promise. Once I’m free I’ll do everything in my power to get you outta this godforsaken place.”

The only thing that kept me going was the promise that one day Kit would come knocking on my door in the middle of the night with a ticket out. I didn't get a lot of sleep. I waited, not wanting to miss Kit's devilish smile as it appeared outside my cell door.

He didn’t come.

I was curled into the fetal position atop the rough mattress. I peered out the small barred window, hoping to manifest Kit’s arrival. The night was unusually quiet. Typically, there would be screaming patients or restless nuns traversing the halls. Tonight, there was nothing but stillness. My cell was noticeably colder than usual. Or maybe it just felt that way because I used to be filled with nervous anticipation. The only emotion I felt now was extreme sadness.

My heavy heart weighed me down. My brain was so foggy from lack of sleep, yet I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes. I always told myself that he wouldn't come that night and I should rest. But every night, a glimmer of hope kept me awake.

That glimmer of hope had vanished. My eyelids were growing heavy. I needed to sleep. Everything was gradually fading to black. God, I missed this.

A small, almost inaudible knock jolted me awake. I thought I was dreaming at first. I haven't allowed myself to sleep in a long time. My mind was playing games with me.

Then I heard it again.

My eyes shot open.

No.

No way.

No way in hell.

“Hey baby.”

Even if I were blind, I would recognize him. That accent would stand out in a crowd of ten thousand. I dashed to the door, which stood slightly ajar.

Oh my God, he was really gonna get me out of here!

“Kit! How the hell?”

“Stealing keys, replicating keys. It’s a long story. Don’t ask about it now, I promise I’ll tell you everything later!”

I flung open the door and dashed into Kit's arms. They were as warm and inviting as I remembered. He had a pleasant odor. Not at all like old soap and musk. He smelled like light cologne and fresh lotion.

“God I missed you!”

I exclaimed, trying not to raise my voice above a whisper.

Kit drew back and pecked my lips quickly. His mouth was soft and soothing. I desired more. But I reasoned that time was of the essence, and I value my liberty more than a fleeting moment of happiness.

The dim lights reflected off his dark brown eyes. I felt happy for the first time in three months. I couldn't stop smiling.

“Okay, okay we gotta go! Come on, follow me!”

“Right, right!”

My face fell as I became aware of the true gravity of the situation. Kit extended his hand for me to take. I intertwined our fingers and allowed him to pull me through Briarcliff's quiet walls.

This situation should be frightening.

I should be looking over my shoulder constantly to ensure no one is following us.

I should be far more concerned than I am.

But I wasn’t.

I was almost giddy.

I knew Kit had a well thought out plan. I couldn't have gone through all of this heartbreak just to be met with more disappointment.

No, I was leaving tonight.

“Okay Y/N.”

I was met with his passionate gaze as he turned to face me. He was not only passionate about me, but also about getting me out of this hellhole.

“If we go through the kitchen, there's a trapdoor with a ladder that leads to a basement. That basement leads to an escape route. It’s used to deliver medicine and things like that during the day so the inmates can’t escape through the front door. All the lights are turned off at night so it’s pitch black. Hold on to me and I’ll lead you through it, okay?”

He spoke quickly and quietly. I vigorously nodded. I'd wade through a snake-infested pool if it meant escaping at the other end.

“Also, we have to walk by Sister Jude’s bedroom. So be absolutely silent, okay?”

I nodded again.

“Perfect.”

I took care not to make a sound. A single trip or stumble could result in an extravagant beating the next morning. It wasn't until we got to the kitchen that I was able to breathe again.

“Alright baby, ready for round two?”

I smirked, unable to ignore the subtle sexual implication. Leave it to Kit to crack a joke when trying to escape an asylum. Fortunately, he was still aware that time was of the essence. He grabbed my hand and began dragging me through the kitchen, past the various produce-filled shelves before I could utter a word. A rather unassuming shelf of baking ingredients concealed an open trapdoor. Kit knelt, his body slipping into the square of darkness.

“I had to come through the back way and crack it open. There’s no way to open it from the kitchen end.”

I'd worked in the kitchen many times before, but I had no idea an escape route was right under my nose.

“I’ll go down first, follow me closely and close the trapdoor when you can.”

He insisted. He slid down the ladder with ease. When I couldn't see him anymore, I found my footing on the rungs and followed him. I closed the trapdoor with a soft thud.

Kit was correct. This corridor was pitch black. It was humid and smelled strongly of musk. I felt claustrophobic right away. Because of the impenetrable blanket of darkness, I couldn't tell which way to go.

When I felt Kit's hand brush against my arm, all my worries vanished.

“Give me your hand.”

I grasped his forearm, and worked my hand downwards until I could intertwine my fingers with his.

“Perfect, now follow me.”

I could hear his subtle smile as he spoke.

He dragged me down the corridor, and even though I had no idea when it would end, I felt safe. I couldn't bring myself to worry because I knew Kit was nearby. I knew he'd look after me.

Our soft footsteps echoed down the dim corridor. We didn't say anything because we were still hesitant to speak freely.

Despite the fact that this situation should have made my heart race and my stomach flip, I smiled. Because it felt as if a piece of me had been missing for three months, and now my soul was whole again.

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silverity · 10 months

Note

Why do you call yourself a "marxist feminist?" your analysis is closer to mainstream reactionary narratives and radical feminism in general - why the obfuscation and lies?

i became a communist, specifically a marxist leninist, at about 15. i educated myself on Marx, Lenin, Engels, Mao, Stalin, Ho Chi Minh, Castro, Che Guevara, Kwame Nkrumah, Thomas Sankara, Kim Il Sung — id say most of the fundamentals necessary to developing a communist understanding.

from my own Black upbringing i already knew Malcolm X, but i read further about the civil rights movement's Black leaders and revolutionaries, such as the Black Panther Party, Black Liberation Army, Fred Hampton, Huey P Newton, Kwame Ture, George Jackson. read Black scholars like James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, bell hooks, Du Bois, Fanon. also read Parenti, Said and Freire. i made sure as a Black woman to learn from Black women and marxist women, so i both read about and read the works of Rosa Luxemburg, Claudia Jones, Assata Shakur, Kathleen Cleaver, Nawal El Saadawi and Angela Davis.

so i was a marxist leninist in marxist circles for a very long time, and for all that time i was very pro-trans. now, there's been a rising tide of misogyny in the mainstream for the last couple of years, and i noticed men of all races in marxist circles were either failing to address it or addressed it only with reactionary, backwards analyses. many started voicing outright misogyny themselves under the guise of criticizing "bourgeois white women". it seemed they'd only read the works of marxist men and hadn't paid any attention to the women as i had. even other marxist leninist women, though their analysis was solid, were not focusing on women's issues directly. there's this tendency among marxists to treat feminism as some inborn component of marxism though they're not doing any direct study nor work on it at all. they think a class revolution will resolve everything when that's not entirely true. we will have to restructure society around gender/sex, race and many other inequalities, not just class.

so i turned to feminism. i went back to the aforementioned marxist women, who cover topics such as anti-imperialism, anti-capitalism, prison abolition, Black nationalism and so on, but for the first time focused exclusively on the situation of women. this time i read marxist women for their marxist feminism, incorporating also Evelyn Reed, Silvia Federici, Ellen Willis, Clara Zetkin, Sharon Smith. as you may have noticed from the name, marxist feminism is sourced from feminism (yes, radical feminism) as much as it is marxism. many of these marxist feminist women drew from radical feminist women, both to further their own marxfem theory as well as to contrast it.

& i wanted to read what they were referencing for myself, so i began to read radfem works for the first time. i was surprised that what marxists had always dismissed as "white bourgeois feminism" was actually incredibly intersectional and insightful. and that even the white radical feminist authors were accounting for race and class, with many directly interrogating marxist theory and building upon Engels' analysis in Origin of the Family. i now firmly believe that to wholly understand the oppression of women you must understand our position under the intersection of both capitalism and patriarchy.

so!!!! i arrived at marxist feminism but with heavy influences of radical feminism. i would say my politics are a combination of the two (which some would call socialist feminism) but i prefer to keep the marxfem label owing to my marxist leninist origins (socialist is too broad a term), and also because my approach is still generally that of a more marxist leninist structural analysis, first and foremost. where marxist feminism provides a materialist, anti-capitalist analysis of the exploitation of women, radical feminism scrutinises the interpersonal relations between the sexes under patriarchy and its gender hierarchy. radical feminism also covers a lot more ground pertaining to women: women's history, feminist anthropology, women in media, science, psychology & so on. im particularly interested in radfem deconstructions of Judeo-Christian theology as of late.

thus it was with this new radical feminist understanding of women's oppression, and the analysis of other radfems of the trans rights movement, that i realised The Terfs Were Right All Along: gender identity ideology is regression masquerading as progression and will never liberate women from our degraded position so long as the female body continues to be exploited and abused. our oppression under both capitalism and patriarchy is the oppression, exploitation, and regulation of our female biology. after all, it's only women who are able to produce workers for the capitalists and the state, and children for the men and the society. this is the origin of women's oppression that began thousands of years ago. the oppression of women today is the systemic exploitation of the human female.

i went back and recalibrated my marxism as well and in doing so realised dialectical materialism doesn't lend itself to gender identity theory whatsoever (something a lot of other marxists have realised too). a liberation movement has to address the situation of women, it has to address our material reality. it cannot work off of idealism. i find mao really great on dialectical materialism, so let's look at his writings. according to Mao, "Idealism considers spirit (consciousness, concepts, the subject) as the source of all that exists on earth, and matter (nature and society, the object) as secondary and subordinate" whereas "Materialism recognizes the independent existence of matter as detached from spirit and considers spirit as secondary and subordinate.... [Idealists] cannot point out the materialist truth according to which consciousness is limited by matter, but believe that only consciousness is active, whereas matter is only an inert composite entity."

marxism is alternately termed "scientific socialism" for a reason. we are not idealists like the utopian socialists. we do not deal in idealism, we analyse reality through the scientific method of historical materialism. as Mao writes "Materialist dialectics is the only scientific epistemology, and it is also the only scientific logic. Materialist dialectics studies the origin and development of our knowledge of the outside world. It studies the transition from not knowing to knowing and from incomplete knowledge to more complete knowledge; it studies how the laws of the development of nature and society are daily reflected more profoundly and more extensively in the mind of humanity."

to "[belong] to the materialist camp" in Mao's words, we must "[recognize] the independent existence of the material world, separate from human consciousness — the fact that it existed before the appearance of humanity, and continues to exist since the appearance of humanity, independently and outside of human consciousness. To recognize this point is a fundamental premise of all scientific research.... what we call consciousness is nothing else but a form of the movement of matter, a particular characteristic of the material brain of humanity; it is that particular characteristic of the material brain which causes the material processes outside consciousness to be reflected in consciousness."

in essence, the internal is a product of the external. not the reverse. this does not support the supremacy of "gender identity" over sex, nor does it support the extreme position assumed by some in the trans movement, of the subjectivity or non-existence of sex altogether. we have to transform society in order to transform ourselves, which in this context would mean the abolition of gender throughout the whole of society— not the promotion of individualist self-identification with ascientific microlabels. gender identities do not liberate anyone from the confines of gender—they further lock you in, making you an ardent defender of the tool of your own repression. evidently, supporting gender identity ideology would not only be the betrayal of the proletarian woman and the fight for her liberation, and the liberation of everyone repressed by this system, it would be the betrayal and the distortion of marxism itself. a vulgar materialism.

if you want a more thorough breakdown of my ascent to terfdom or anything more about marxism leninism that'll probably have to be another post. let me know! i'll leave you with this from Mao on dialectical materialism: "The world is nothing else but the material world in a process of unlimited development.... If the proletariat and all revolutionaries take up this consistently scientific arm, they will then be able to understand this world, and transform the world."

#you didn't ask for my life story but i gave it to you anyway #marxist feminism #dialectical materialism #radblr #mao #radical feminism #marxism #marxfem #terfblr #marxism leninism #original posts #edited

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