#care about link seeing he is loved in every corner of time..

[spacerockband]

loved

[spiderlandry]

Love Language — ethan landry

Description: You regularly hugged all of your friends besides Ethan. He wonders why.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Warnings: reader is shorter than ethan, some teasing, confessions, no ghostface, mention of a dead childhood pet once, lmk if theres anything i should add !!

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s note: is this very specific to me? yes.

BLACKMORE UNIVERSITY, FRESHMAN YEAR

When Ethan first met you, he thought you and Chad were dating.

The first time he met Chad’s friend group and inevitably became a part of it, there was talk amongst them of a link in their friendships currently studying a semester abroad, which he quickly found was you. They talked greatly of you, and Chad said you’d known them since freshman year of highschool besides Sam. The Woodsboro murders only brought you five closer together.

Safe to say Ethan had quite high expectations. There were photos he’d seen, and you were…attractive, to say the least. (If Ethan was honest, he’d say hot.) And by the way everyone talked about you like you were an angel, he wasn’t actually expecting you to be the closest thing to a deity he’d ever seen—but he was proven wrong.

You were introduced when you finally came back for the spring semester, and Quinn teased him afterward for being reduced to a bumbling idiot at the mere sight of you. (It was even worse when you talked to him.)

But after a week or so, your intimidation levels went down significantly. You weren’t just an angel by looks, you were an angel by character. Even if Ethan hadn’t known you for long, the thing that stood out most was your compassion. How you cared so deeply for others that it only inspired those around you, including him.

What made him contemplate your relationship with Chad were the hugs.

Ethan was there when they picked you up at the airport. You hugged your friends from Woodsboro and Anika (since you’d known her over Facetime), then waved an awkward introduction with Ethan as he desperately tried not to stutter out his name.

He thought, okay, that was normal. Hugging your friends you hadn’t seen in a long time.

But as time progressed he noticed that every time he happened to see you, either on campus or when some of them would grab a bite to eat and you were invited, you would always be hugging Chad.

Ethan’s data was only gathered during this short week after you arrived, and he realized he was completely wrong when he began to hang out more with the rest of the group, not just Chad.

You hugged everybody.

He put it together when he spotted you at a popular lunch spot with Tara, embracing her for a good minute or so. He also went to Quinn’s place of residence which happened to also be the Carpenter sisters’, and Sam was holding you in the kitchen while something was cooking.

He started noticing it every single time. There was Mindy and Anika, who you drunkenly hugged at a lame party (in which he’d never admit that he attended just to see you), then Quinn at some point when he ran into both of you on campus.

Throughout the next few weeks, he accepted that it was just your way of showing you loved your friends. And he wasn’t close to you yet, but he was looking forward to the day he would be.

SOPHOMORE YEAR

The diner a few blocks from your place became familiar with you and your friends constantly hanging out there, and even if it could get rowdy, the staff couldn’t help but appreciate that you all tipped well despite being college students.

Ethan didn’t put much thought into the hugs a year into knowing you, his thoughts were replaced by how much you spent time with him. You asked him to hang out. You texted him. You even did study calls over discord, and you’d be able to hear Chad teasing him in the background and you always laughed it off.

Soon enough, you consumed every corner of his mind, and every good thing he saw would come back to you. He saw the moon come out every night and was reminded of how much you loved it. Whenever he encountered a stray cat, he thought about stories you told of your childhood cat, a picture of her still in your wallet though she died years ago. At a store, he would remind himself to grab the chips you liked.

You occupied places in his psyche so much that it felt like he was drunk on you. He guessed that’s why he forgot about the hugs pretty quickly.

At least, he forgot about them until you were at the diner with him, Chad, and Tara. They were always the most available, often down to do whatever when you’d text to the groupchat if anyone was free.

Chad was frowning at his phone, brows furrowed.

You were sitting across from him, next to Ethan, when you noticed.

“What’s wrong, C?” You inquired, putting a piece of fry dipped in milkshake in your mouth.

Ethan was focused on his milkshake, and how you occasionally would dip your fries in—without double dipping, of course—it made his heart flutter even if it was the simplest of actions. The domesticity of it. He may as well be your boyfriend, he fantasized.

“This quiz is wrong.” Chad scowled.

Tara, right next to him, peeped at his screen. She laughed. “Why are you taking this?”

Chad shrugged exaggeratedly, almost reminiscent of a moody kid. “I was watching this video essay about love languages last night, so I got curious.”

You smiled, taking in the context. “Did you do a quiz on what your love language is?”

He nodded.

“Can I see?”

He handed you his phone, and it read Physical Touch. Ethan scooted closer next to you to read it and you tried to ignore the faster beat of your heart when you thighs began to touch.

“Y’know what? It’s kinda right,” Tara chimed in.

“Really?” Her boyfriend turned to her.

“You have your hand on my thigh right now.” She chuckled, a soft sound as she leaned in closer to him.

Reading further, it also said Words of Affirmation was a close second.

Ethan finally spoke, “You should listen to your girlfriend, Chad.”

You handed the phone to Tara when she motioned for it. “Words of affirmation also seems right,” she added.

“Seriously?” Chad asked, his tone lifting to showcase disbelief. “Does everybody know this but me?”

Ethan pulled a memory from his brain. “You always hype me up at parties. Remember when you kept calling me a snack at that Halloween party last year?”

His roommate gave it a moment, then responded, “Alright, fine. I guess you’re right.” He looked to Tara with an unsaid question that only she knew how to read. A question that was ‘are they actually right?’

“Well, I can’t exactly say it at the table.” She said it teasingly at Chad, but with a lilting tone that told you it was, to say the least, inappropriate.

Ethan put a hand on his face, “Please have some decorum, guys.”

“Yeah, come on.” You joked. “I’ve had enough of you two lovebirds.“

Chad glanced at you, feigning offence. “Don’t act like you’re not the same!”

“Woah, woah—“ You interrupted. “With whom?“

He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes going to Ethan, who had a panicked look.

“What? What makes you think that? Why are you looking at me?” Ethan said a tad too quickly which made Tara almost snort.

“Let’s not…” You shook your head slowly, “start this.”

Now, what did you mean by that? Ethan thought.

Chad shrugged. “What about you, roomie? What’s your love language?” He asked, moving away from the subject of you and Ethan which you were eternally grateful for. But the question still plagued Ethan, unbeknownst to you.

“Um…” He thought for a second. “What are the love languages?” He asked when he realized he didn’t actually know the other ones.

“I think yours is acts of service,” You interjected. You were looking him up and down, as if you were scanning him for something. He couldn’t help but almost cower under your wandering eyes, but he stood his ground, a mental battle inside his head of which you were completely unaware.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Tara agreed. “Yeah.” She reiterated, more sure of it.

“Listen to your partner in crime, roomie.” Chad smirked.

You tilted your head at the partner in crime part, you’d never heard yourself be referred to with that regarding Ethan. Not that you minded.

Ethan shot him a very stern look, as if they had a silent conversation. (To your obliviousness, it was because Ethan referred to you as his partner in crime to Chad a few days ago, giving his roommate more ammo to use.)

“Why do you guys think it’s acts of service?” Ethan shifted the topic back.

“Well,” you began. “You always bring me chips when you come back from a store.”

“He only does that to you, though.” Tara said.

“Does he?” You turned to him for an answer.

“Well—I do stuff for other people too.”

“Like what?”

“I do the dishes at our house. I mop the floor, I do stats homework for Anika.”

“That’s all true,” Chad agreed. “Okay, so yours is acts of service. Y/N, what about you?”

“Definitely physical touch.” Tara nodded, certain of it.

“Oh, for sure, for sure.” Her boyfriend concurred.

“Wait, what makes you guys so sure?” You smiled regardless of your questioning tone, appreciative of the way your friends paid attention to your actions.

“Do we even have to start?” Tara asked, “The hugs?”

“Yeah, you’ve been doing it since high school.”

“Within two days of knowing me, you hugged me in Ms. Thompson’s class,” She added.

“Okay, you’re right, but—“ You started.

“What else could there be?” Chad interrupted.

It was then that a quiet voice piped up from next to you, so quiet a whisper you could’ve missed it if the diner weren’t empty. “You’ve never hugged me.”

Ethan sounded so dejected, so…defeated?

It broke your heart.

He regretted it even before he said it, and judging from everyone’s faces apparently he needed to rid himself of the habit of saying things out of turn.

Tara’s eyes were a little wide, while Chad puffed air from his mouth.

He refused to look at you.

“Never—nevermind,” He waved it off.

“I was just getting to that,” You furthered. “My love language is different for certain people!” You exclaimed.

“Is it?” Tara questioned, eyes narrowing. (You’d realize later how much of a bait this was.)

“For you guys, I’ve known you for a while so I’m comfortable touching you.”

Chad had the same expression as his girlfriend, “But you do the same to Anika and Quinn.”

It dawned on Ethan that they were pretty much backing you both into a corner. “Guys—“

“But—that’s—that’s different,” you insisted.

A long pause. Nobody could decide if it was awkward.

“…Is it?” Ethan finally spoke, a piece of courage in exchange for dignity. He needed the answer.

You fidgeted in your seat, not knowing how to say it. But you wanted to, badly. The answer was etched into your bones, weaved into your DNA.

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Wanna know the truth? I was going to say, before you interrupted me, that my love language changes when it’s romantic, okay?”

The answer was Ethan.

You didn’t know what was going to happen next. At this point, your heart was in your feet and you’ve scooted away from Ethan.

He was breathing shallowly as if he’d just ran a marathon. “Can you…elaborate?”

You took a deep breath, “Do you seriously not know?”

He shook his head.

Then you did something he never expected.

You reached for his arm and guided him out of the booth, heading for the door and ignoring your friends’ looks when you exited the diner.

Chad and Tara were left to anticipate.

Right outside of the dimly lit diner, on sidewalk, you positioned yourself right in front of him.

You stared right into his brown doe eyes, and hugged him. You put your arms around his torso, under his arms, your head on his upper chest.

It took him a good second to reciprocate, but it was worth it. The warmth that radiated from his touch was one you never forgot, even if you couldn’t feel it again for a thousand years. (But you’d never let that happen.)

You were hugging him because you couldn’t face him while you said what you were about to say.

“I don’t hug you because if I did, it would mean different.” Your voice was muffled by his jacket. “I don’t love you the way I love my friends.”

With your head where it was, you felt his breath hitch. “What—what do you mean?”

You laughed, and Ethan revelled in the rumble of your joy in his chest.

“I mean…I spend my time with you differently because I love you differently. I hug my friends, but I spend time with you, because I…”

He didn’t know if he had the strength to keep himself upright.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

He was silent.

“And—and you don’t have to even…feel the same, but I didn’t want you to wonder if I loved you or not because I couldn’t let me being scared take that from you. Because you deserve to know. I think.”

Your voice was so unstable that it tapered off by the end, as quiet as Ethan was.

His embrace tightened, trying to pull you closer. He leaned down and put his head on your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’d say that—that I don’t have to feel the same.”

Now he felt your breath hitch.

He continued, “I think I already loved you when we met. Is that weird?”

You laughed. And he memorized that sound.

“It’s not weird. I think it happened to me too.”

The biggest weight on both of your shoulders were lifted, something you thought wasn’t possible.

He breathed you in, memorizing the edges of your body as you kept talking.

“I’m sorry they kept teasing you because of me. Tara knew, so Chad probably knew, too.”

He pulled away slightly, looking at you.

“I thought they were teasing me because Chad knew.” His eyebrows were pinched, and you put two and two together at the same time.

Your eyes snapped to the window of the diner, seeing Chad and Tara’s heads disappear from the view when they ducked down, trying to avoid you from spotting their peeping. But you saw it anyway.

You focused back on Ethan, and while he was still looking at the window, you put a soft hand on his cheek and guided his head to face you again.

“It was a set up,” He sighed.

“It was.” You nodded.

“Should we be mad?”

“Are you?”

“Not when you’re in my arms.”

You grinned. “Since when did you have game?”

“I have you, don’t I?”

You playfully slapped his arm. “Wanna go back to my place?”

“If I ever say no to that, kill me.”

[spiderrrling]

The Price of a Kiss - Eddie Munson x reader

Summary - You start trading Eddie little nick knacks for kisses

A/N - Tiiiniest little drabble from my drafts because I feel bad not being able to post any new writing, 1k words

“What’s this?” Eddie’s eyes weren't even looking at the rock you were holding up in front of him, his dark, doe brown eyes were linked to yours, and he wasn’t planning on looking away.

“A rock,” you smiled proudly at him, the small stone glinting softly in the sunlight as you held it up, with tiny streaks of crystal scattering the light and reflecting onto his face.

“I can see it’s a rock sweetheart,” he said as he picked the small rock from your fingers before holding it up to the sunlight and admiring it. “But why?”

“I dunno- I saw it and it looked pretty, I wanted to give it to you,” you wrung your hands together as you spoke and in that moment Eddie knew you had to be the most adorable creature to ever walk this earth-

“So you saved it? Brought it all the way here to me?” Eddie asked you with big eyes, the rock long since pocketed in his black ripped jeans, and you nodded in response to his question, biting your lip ever so slightly.

“Why thank you sweetheart,” his voice was soft as he spoke, and he was close enough that you could hear every slight shift in his voice, every breath and tone change. Eddie’s arm was wrapped around your waist bringing you impossibly close to him. “How could I ever repay you?”

It was painstakingly clear what he wanted, his lips were hovering over yours, almost brushing but just barely not, yet you could still swear you would know what he would taste like when he finally kissed you.

“A kiss perhaps?” your eyebrows raised ever so slightly and you tipped your head to the side, pursing your lips together as you looked at him.

“A fair trade indeed,” Eddie cooed at you softly, his rough hands grabbing your face and cupping it in his hands before he connected your lips together. His lips slightly chapped, but yet they were always softer than you expected, and he kissed you with such gentle care almost as if he was worried about shattering you in his grip.

“There, I think that is reward enough don’t you?” Before you could protest Eddie’s lips had left yours and you could tell he was fighting back the smirk that was nipping at the corner of his mouth. You pouted at him and stood on your tiptoes to try and reach his lips, which easily cracked his facade and his grin broke out over his face.

“Nuh-uh my love, that wasn’t our deal, I’ll suppose you’ll just have to trade me more.”

That was the first time you and Eddie exchanged a trade, and it was only the first of many times. After that you did whatever you could to find things to trade with him. Little knick knacks, a scrunchie, more pretty rocks you would pick up on the walk to his trailer, and once you made him a friendship bracelet that had him peppering your face in kisses.

“You know, I think you might end up collecting all the pebbles in Hawkins if you keep this up,” he once told you just before he gave you your well earned kiss. “I don’t care- if it means you’ll kiss me like that again I’ll do anything.

“Well, do you have something else to trade with me?”

It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t gladly give you as many kisses as you wanted, all you had to do was ask him, and you did. But you still loved the little trades you shared, and you loved finding little things to trade with him.

It almost became a little game to you, find the prettiest rock, the most perfect shell, make him something that you knew he would appreciate for more than just your small deals.

However, what you didn’t know was that Eddie kept everything you traded him, while he would pocket whatever little trinket you had brought him, when he got home, or when you weren’t looking he would slip it into the little box he had started keeping under his bed.

Even the bracelet you made for him, after he had given you your kiss he excitedly asked you to help him tie it around his wrist and after that it became a regular accessory, sitting just below his usual leather cuff. It was almost a little funny seeing the hand braided colourful friendship bracelet tied around his wrist next to the hard and cut black leather, it was such a stark contrast that it shouldn’t make sense yet somehow it did so perfectly.

It was almost like a sense of pride for him, every now and then he would reach under his bed to fumble around for the box, pouring out all the small trinkets onto his bed just to scoop them all up into his hands. Like a goblin would with his gold coins.

And it would lead to the silliest little pieces of conversation between the two of you. Like the time you were sitting on the couch, his hand tangled with yours when you pulled a slightly cracked shell out of your pocket, you didn’t even have to say anything. He simply picked it from your hand and started examining it against the dimmed light in the trailer living room.

“I don’t think this is enough for a kiss my love, my rates have gone up,” his voice was silky smooth as he spoke, and his thumb was on your chin forcing you to part your lips ever so slightly and the softest whine escaped from your lips. “Would you settle for a kiss on the cheek?”

“Everything is so expensive in this economy these days,” you muttered and complained, pouting ever so slightly at him to try and gain some affection in your bargaining.

“Oh but you’re so cute, how am I supposed to resist?” Eddie let the question hang in the air for a moment before he kissed you.

[luvrxbunny]

churn

pairing: knight!Miguel O’Hara x princess!reader

summary: Your royal knight helps you in a way your fiancé never could.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has hair that can be pushed over her shoulder, reader has visible collarbones, infidelity, miguel seems to have a little thing for readers collarbones.. Idk,  f! masturbation, IMPORTANT LINK (ill be refering to this throughout the fic)

wc: 4.9k

a/n: i don't even think this is good guys cry i just needed to post something but i tried ilya 🫶🏾 (not proofread one bit)

He hated this part of the day. 

Miguel isn’t allowed to feel many things, he is even more limited in who he can feel them for, but he hates this part of the day. When you finally finish your chores and duties. You always tell him that you’re not going to get excited this time, that you know he’s busy but he always sees the excitement build in your face as you search tirelessly for your fiancé. 

Ser Isaac was one of the more well-known lords of the land. He’s known for his outstanding looks and entertaining charm. Everyone has heard of his endless generosity, empathy, and care for others. But in Miguel’s experience. He’s a selfish dick. 

He doesn’t hate Ser Isaac, of course not, that’d be treason. He is allowed to hate his actions, however; the way he neglects you. He hates how Ser Isaac is using you for your position, stature, and admiration throughout the kingdom. He spends all his time sucking up to your father, thanking him for his daughter's hand in marriage rather than worshipping the daughter for tolerating his artificiality. 

You round the corner to find your father and fiancé at the bar, once again. This is where they’ve been for the past few weeks. You’d asked them to try to spend less time together, to make some room for you, but they both laughed you off and continued their boisterous chatter. 

Miguel watches your smile melt off your face as you take in their inebriated state. You turn to him for a moment with a small smile, knowing he’ll give you the same pitying look you get every time this happens. It’s a small comfort; knowing that at least one person in your life cares about you, even if that person is your assigned guard.

You approach the pair of drunks with a brave smile. “Have you saved any for me, my love?” The two men pause to look at you before slowly turning back to one another and breaking out into a fit of laughter. Miguel can see your expression flush into one of embarrassment and anger. You open your mouth to speak again but their laughter raises in volume, drowning out anything you would’ve said. 

Miguel sees a heartbreaking sadness flash over your face before you compose yourself. 

In his mind though, it’s the same as you begging him for help, so he steps in. He moves from his corner by the doorway to stand at your side. His presence gives you a small boost of confidence and commands the men to give you more than 3% of their attention. 

Your fiancé is the first one to quit his laughter and sober up a bit. He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes at Miguel’s presence. “Is he necessary?” He doesn’t even look at Miguel, his eyes don’t flicker in his direction once. Miguel does the same, keeping his eyes forward and surveying his surroundings. He can’t help the slight smirk that worms its way onto his face, however. 

You stand up straighter at the acknowledgment of your muscle. “Miguel is mine, therefore he stays by my side.” Miguel’s eyelids flutter and flicker to you for a moment. He tries his best to ignore the swirling in his stomach but his breathing stutters. “I’d like to confer with you about your schedule, dear.”

Your fiancé smirks maliciously at you before changing it into a faux kind smile. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll make so much time for you.” He stands up, looming over you but not taller than Miguel. “When I’m finished organizing all of our affairs, paying all your maids.” His voice gains more and more venom as he stalks closer to you. 

Your confident gaze is gone, now looking at the wall rather than your soon-to-be husband. “Yes, dear. I’ll spend time with you when I’m done with cleaning your messes.” His voice raises to a shout, screaming right in your face as your eyes stay on the ground. Miguel’s hand goes to rest on the hilt of his sword, just as a reminder of what could happen if Ser Isaac decides to do more than yell. But that negatively catches his attention. 

He scoffs loudly and turns to Miguel, who still isn't meeting his threatening eyes. “You think to strike me? You?” Miguel hears you take a breath, like you’re preparing to speak up for him but he can’t allow that. “I only mean to protect the Princess, Ser.” Miguel keeps his smirk from crawling onto his face this time, he keeps his expression stoic and straight ahead. 

“Oh? OH? I’ll I have you know that I shall do whatever-” He raises his hand. “I’d like-” 

It comes down toward you “with MY wife.” Miguel grabs his wrist, stopping all movement. You watch his grip tighten before your eyes, so tightly you swear you can hear Isaac’s bones cracking. 

“You will not. Not in my presence, or ever, if I can help it.” You’ll never forget the look on his face. The pure shock on his face, the look of disgust and disdain. You don’t even want to think of Miguel’s face. The anger, and unwavering confidence. He exudes this certain dominance over Isaac that you can’t help but admire.

Isaac’s face shows a look of embarrassment once he sees how easily Miguel can hold him back, so he scoffs and goes back to his seat, grumbling about your ‘big oaf of a guard.’ He complains about the both of you to your father as if you aren’t even in the room. You’re not too sad about it, you’ve grown a bit used to his rejection, and it doesn't sting as bad. 

A clock in the corner of the room catches your eye and excitement runs through you with a soft gasp. Miguel looks over to you and follows your gaze to see the time, 3:00 PM. The swirling in his stomach returns as you clear your throat and begin to leave the room. Although you know Mguel will follow, you keep pace with him once you both exit the room, choosing to walk by his side. 

You’re always different for the next two hours. You linger by him more, find more excuses to touch him and talk with him. He knows why, he knows how princesses like to play their games, how they love all their suitors. But sometimes he slips up, sometimes he believes your advances are genuine, that you honestly wish for him to whisk you away from your castle life, your perfect, royal life. Then he comes back to reality. 

You enter your chambers and stand by the foot of your bed, Miguel by the door. His heart is racing because he knows what comes next. It’s- unfortunately, his favorite time of the day. You stand by your wardrobe, just looking into the mirror before catching his gaze in the reflection. “Mig?” Your soft tone sends a suppressed shiver through his body. “Do you think you could help me?”

He’s walking towards you without hesitation. “I- I’d ask one of the maids but they’re all busy and-” He doesn’t need a justification, you don’t need an excuse. “Of course, Princess. I understand.” You do this every time. Your maids are always ‘too busy’. You both know it's a ruse, but neither of you wants it to stop. 

He lets his hands rest on your side for a moment, relishing the way he can feel you expand with the deep breath you take. He slides them back to where you’re laced into your dress and takes his time untying the strings. You wish you could see his hands, the way they’d thread through the strings, how careful and gentle they’d be. Or how small the strings would look between his thick fingers. 

Once he finishes loosening your corset he opens it for you, reliving the extreme pressure it puts on you and you thank him with a soft sigh. He’s in a trance though, he slowly removes the fabric from your body. Your spine seems to compress itself, making you seem even shorter than usual now that you don’t have this brace forcing you upright. You’re just watching him in the mirror as his hands come up to your shoulders and slowly turn you around. He’s not looking you in the eyes yet, he’s just looking at you. He looks at your collarbones and slowly pushes your hair over your shoulder to reveal more of you to him. But something snaps him out of his trance and he puts distance between the two of you before you even take a breath. “S- I’m so sorry, Princess.I—” You cut him off before he can say more. 

“There's no need for an apology! I didn’t say anything, did I?” There’s a shy flirtiness in your tone that causes Miguel’s face to sink into a dark red color, bringing a giggle to your lips that only worsens his condition. He turns and walks back to the door while you finish undressing. 

He keeps his eyes dutifully out the window. Pretending he can't hear the fabric sliding against your naked skin. How he yearns to look, it's like you have your own gravitational pull. It’s a constant struggle to hear you undressing and redressing yourself into something he knows is going to screw with him. You’ll probably change into your favorite nightgown. It’s an adorable sleeved gown with feathers at the top. You always mention you don’t like how long it is, and that it’s “unflattering” but in truth, everything you wear is flattering. You make it so. 

Miguel suddenly becomes aware of the silence in the room. No rustling, no sliding fabrics. He risks looking over at you and his heart almost beats out of his chest. It’s new. You must’ve gotten it tailored because he’s never seen anything fit you so well. It’s a night dress, flowy but short, very short. It barely reaches the halfway point of your thigh. It has no sleeves, your neck, collarbones, and shoulders on full display, and the top hugs your breasts in a way he’s never witnessed. 

You watch him admire you for a moment before speaking up with a soft “Hmm?” and his eyes fly to yours. “I think it’s quite cute!” You smile at him brightly, waiting for his opinion. He doesn’t give you one though, he just stares at you for a little longer. You grow conscious under his stare and anxiety begins to eat away at you. “W- What do you th—” 

His face twitches before he blurts out. “Yes. Yes, you look-- It’s very- You look very cute. It’s beautiful. You- You look amazing, Princess.” His sentence ends with a sharp inhale that's followed by a calm exhale as Migusl straightens out. He’s been slowly leaning down, subconsciously trying to get closer to you. “You look incredible, Princess.” He tries to place his eyes forward again, trying to turn the environment back to professional, he can’t help but look at you one last time as you thank him. 

Your eyes are on the ground and your hand sliding up your arm, uncomfortable with all the skin you’re showing. “You do.” Your eyes snap up to his upon his third confirmation. You seem to be searching his eyes for something, looking deep into him in a way he’ll never get used to. 

Your brows furrow and you chew on your lip for a few seconds before declaring that he follow you and starting a rapid pace. He follows behind you urgently before realizing where the two of you are headed.

The castle has a lot of tunnels and hidden passageways, these passageways sometimes lead to other rooms in the castle or secret rooms in the castle. One of your handmaidens was kind enough to show you a passageway right by your washroom that leads to a secret chamber. You’d instantly fallen in love with what you found. 

Miguel was there the first time you saw it, you laughed so loud it echoed off the walls. You thought it was a novelty. He was there when he saw it pique your interest for the first time. It had been late at night, and Miguel hadn’t retired to his quarters yet so he was guardian of your door. Inside your room, he could hear you giggling with a drunk Ser Isaac. Your giggle soon turned to breathy whines but they were interrupted with a dull ‘thump’ before a very disappointed sigh from you. It was a matter of seconds before you opened your chamber doors and told him to follow you with about the same amount of urgency that you just did. 

You told him to guard the door and quickly shut it before you could see any opinion on his face. He was almost hyperventilating at his post. First of all, he was uncomfortable being out here, staring at your drunk, passed-out, fiancé, while you’re in that room doing god knows what. The other thing that bothered him was how he could not stop thinking about how he’d be so much better for you than that machine. 

You opened the door again far too quickly with an even more frustrated expression on your face. “I cannot figure it out. It- It doesn’t work.” Your words come out as an exasperated whine that tugs at his heartstrings. “Show me.” 

You chew on your lip for a second before opening the door to let him in and shutting it behind the two of you. There’s a single, yellow light overhead, shining down on where you would be sitting, where the heavy, metal rod protrudes from the seat. “This thing? It will not move, no matter how hard I try!” He examines the churning lever, immediately spots the problem, and starts removing his gloves. 

“It’s rusted over, Princess. I can fix it.” You watch as his thick fingers curl around the lever and his biceps tense as he pushes, trying to break it free of the rust. There’s an awful screeching sound and Miguel grunts roughly as the lever begins to move. You try to hide your smile of excitement as Miguel rotates the handle a few more times before letting go. “There.” 

You rush over to test for yourself and make sure you can operate it on your own. You smile and turn to Miguel after moving it around with ease. He smirks back at you while he brushes his hands together to remove the rust, and something about the whole scene does something to you. His hands are dirty, his knuckles hairy, his hands huge and thick as he stares at you with something you haven't seen before. You still have one more problem. 

“It also…” You trail off before clearing your throat and starting again. “It doesn’t seem to fit.”

Miguel has to shut his eyes for a moment as arousal floods his veins. He takes a deep breath before looking up at you with the softest expression he could muster, hoping it would hide his lust. “You need to start with your fingers, Princess.”

Your eyes widen at his answer and you quickly nod despite him being able to see the confusion written all over your face. He smiles fondly before explaining further. “That.” He gestures to the machine. “Is too big for most girls.” He looks you directly in your eyes as he speaks, slowly bending to your height. “So you have to start with your fingers.” Your eyes dart to his dirty hands for a moment. “You put them inside you, however many you can take.” 

You start blinking rapidly like your innocent little brain is having trouble processing what he’s telling you. All you respond with is, “Oh.” Miguel chuckles quietly before standing upright and putting his gloves back on. “Yes. I hope that helps.” You walk up to the door with him, to open it for him or accompany him out but you both pause when you hear a bit of commotion on the other side of the door. 

You watch him as he identifies the noise, and breathe out a soft sigh of relief when you see his tense expression relax. “They’re cleaning up Ser Isaac.” He states with a certain disdain that makes you smile softly. You stare at him.

“Okay, then you stay here.” You walk over to the seat and churn the lever a few times to ensure you could do it yourself before sitting on the edge, not quite on the metal penis but close. Miguel is watching from the corner with wide eyes, unable to rationalize what’s going on. You simply tell him “Don’t look.” And he whips his head back around. 

He stares at the dark wall, unknowing what he’s waiting for until he hears it. A soft sigh leaves your lips. He waits. He receives more. You grow in volume as you become wetter, he can hear it, the little squelching sounds getting louder, and faster as you get more desperate. Miguel is using all his willpower to not turn around and take in what he has no doubt is a beautiful sight. 

He hears your whines muffle as you bite your lip and he wishes you could tell you not to, that he wants to hear them all and more. He heard you let out a ragged breath as you added another finger and he couldn’t help his desire to do it for you, but he happily settled with only hearing your beautiful sounds and movements. 

He thanks the Gods every day for letting him stay in that room, for giving him the saccharine memories of you pleasuring yourself for the first time. 

This time feels different though. You’re all dressed up and giving him that look. The one that swirls fantasies into his head and makes his hands clam up. 

He follows you to the room and assumes his position in the corner, but never hears the metallic clink of you situating yourself in the seat. He waits and waits but hears nothing, no movement from you. So he turns around. He has to see what you’re doing, even if it's only for a second, just to make sure you’re safe. 

He finds you standing directly behind him, staring right at him so you guys make eye contact the moment he looks over his shoulder. He instantly turns back around, embarrassed that you found him looking, and worried you might get the wrong idea.

Miguel tries to explain himself, stumbling and stuttering over the start of his sentence before you cut him off. “How come you never look?”

The question silences him. 

“Do you have no desire to?” He turns around again. You seem genuine in your questioning, he feels like he detects a bit of hurt in your voice as well, but that’s most likely in his head. 

“You know I cannot desire.” He states softly. He, as a knight, cannot desire any woman, and most definitely not a princess. Yet he sees anger flash through your eyes at his statement. 

“Just because someone tells you you’re not allowed, does not mean you can’t.” Miguel stays silent, not knowing what you want him to say in response. He can see you scanning his face, examining his features to try and find any crack in his exterior. You must find whatever you’re looking for because you suddenly nod and take a step back. 

“Who are you more loyal to, your oath, or me?” The question baffles him. “If I, your princess, were to tell you to disobey your oath… Would you?” 

His eyes widen and you can see the gears turning in his head, trying to understand where his loyalties should lie. His mouth opens and closes with unsaid words and you decide to give him a break. 

“Come here.” You demand, pointing next to the machine, by the churning lever. You take a deep breath, seat yourself by the metal phallus, and slip a finger under your gown before you can give it a second thought. 

You slide your fingers over your panties for a moment, teasing yourself. Through a lot of trial and error, you’ve found that this is your favorite part; exploring your body, what makes you feel good, and feeling yourself soak your panties throughout the process. 

You hear Miguel take a sharp breath of air, reminding you of his presence and sending a jolt to your core. You’ve never been like this in front of someone, aside from what Miguel could hear and the few times your fiancé was sober enough to attempt to get you off. But even then, it didn't feel like it does now. 

You can’t help but imagine what it would be like if Miguel was the one touching you. If it were his thick fingers sliding under the satin fabric of your underwear to finally slide into you. There’s a burning stretch due to you using two fingers instead of one but it only furthers your fantasies of Miguel’s large hands. You peek your eyes open for a moment, your gaze still on the ground but you can see his feet, a small (or rather large) reminder that he’s right there. 

You can’t help the whimper that slips out, louder than usual. You’re more desperate. You can’t think of any other reason aside from him. You’re soaking your fingers in a way you haven’t since your first time and it’s driving you wild. “Miguel” His name comes out with a small whine, pitching your voice up and scrambling his brain. 

He has to take a deep breath before answering you out of fear that his voice will shake. “Princess?” His voice is rough and gravelly. He hears you take a sharp breath at the sound of it before clearing your throat in hopes of composing yourself. 

“You will churn the lever for me today.” His heart stops. “Understood, Ser?” His eyelids flutter as his eyes burn holes in the wall he’s facing. He goes over your sentence in his head, assuming he must’ve misheard you. His brows furrow and twitch along with his face before accepting that he heard you correctly. “Un-” He takes a shaking breath. “Understood, Princess.”

His hand comes up to wrap around the lever without him even looking in your direction. 

You stare up at him as you pull your panties aside and slide down the cold metal, your teeth digging into your lip to try and keep any noises inside. You only let out a satisfied sigh once you’ve sunk to the bottom before pushing yourself to the tip again. 

You can’t help but focus on him. He’s right there. You can see the curve of his nose and the plush of his lips, the way they purse before his tongue comes out to wet them and pull one into his mouth to bite. He doesn’t have his helmet on so you can see his rich brown curls, the way they frame his face and dance over his neck. You can see his thick, bushy brows, and behind his beautiful lashes are his warm, chocolate-brown eyes looking down at you. 

You gasp once your eyes meet and Miguel goes red. He just wanted to see you for a moment. You’re right there, practically whining in his ear as you impale yourself on what should be his cock. 

He can’t take it anymore, he can’t hold his feelings back as he feels a ripple flow through him and blood rush to his dick. His head decides to conjure every arousing, heart-warming, lovable memory he has of you. He hears you whine again at the loss of eye contact, even if it was only for a moment. Another ripple flows through him, settling in his lower stomach, and creating a painful pressure as your whimpers grow. He tries to redirect his thoughts and focus ahead as he keeps churning for you, cranking the lever again, and again. Your moans pick up as he regains his steady pace.

He tries not to imagine that it’s him. He tries not to think about the fact that your moaning aligns with the throbbing of his cock. He definitely doesn't think about the way his dick is pressing into the metal plate covering his cock. He doesn’t note the way his free hand twitches behind his back, wishing to provide any sense of relief to himself. He doesn’t get distracted by the thought of him touching himself with you sitting right there. 

You feel your orgasm building before Miguel starts to slow down again, his timing uneven again and you look up at him in confusion. He’s staring at the wall, his chest heaving and that same expression on his face. You don’t care to decipher what it means in your impatience. Miguel just feels your delicate hand on his, pushing his hand, forcing him to churn the lever.

You moan as your seat becomes functional. Your chin collides with your chest as you release all the moans and whimpers you’ve been trying to quiet. It almost feels like he’s been toying with you, with all his starting and stopping. You’ve been pushed to the edge of your sanity. 

You can’t comprehend how embarrassing this might be for you, a princess burying this rod inside you again and again, wishing it was someone other than who you’re set to marry. 

You shake the thought of Isaac from your head and replace it with Miguel. Just thinking about the life you could have with him has you tensing over the metal. Your fingers lace with his before you can even think about what you’re doing.

Miguel’s gaze is now on the ceiling, his eyes already slipping shut as your nails dig into his hand. His dick is leaking behind his crotch plate now, begging for your attention, a feeling he isn’t used to regulating. He feels himself pulse painfully and his free hand twitches again. 

Just for a moment. He thinks. Just one second. 

His hand comes from behind his back to crush itself against his crotch, trying to relieve any pressure before he loses his mind, but you hear the clink of the metal hitting and open your eyes instantly. You spot his hand over his dick before slowly looking up to meet his eyes. Miguel lets a moan slip out as he massages himself more thoroughly, squeezing more precum from his tip before pulling away and forcing himself to break your stare. 

“Please.” Is all he hears from you. It’s weak, pathetic, and punches him in the gut, taking all the breath from his lungs. His eyes wander back to you before he can think better of it and he’s instantly stuck, locked into your eyes. 

He watches your body catch alight. You tremble over the steel cock, holding eye contact with Miguel and pushing his hand, forcing him to churn, fuck you over and over as you cum. He can’t do anything but watch. He doesn’t even think about touching himself, not wanting anything to take his attention away from this moment. 

He watches you come down, your body melting into a puddle before him. You drape yourself over the front of the machine as you huff. Even out of breath and covered in sweat, your hair a mess and your dress surely mussed, he thinks you look like an angel, and it breaks his heart that he’ll never be able to keep you. 

He takes a deep breath before releasing the lever, relishing in the whine that leaves your throat as the rod slides out of you one final time. Despite better thinking, Miguel pats your head fondly, almost petting you before speaking as softly as he can. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you to bed.”

You only hum and bury yourself in his neck as he lifts you from your seat. He takes his time getting back to your room, letting you rest in his arms for as long as he can allow. 

He lays you on your bed gently, propping your head up on the pillow and even going to cover you before you stop him. “Mmm Mig..” You begin sitting up again and stretch before opening your eyes to look at him.

Your eyebrows twitch, furrowing for a moment before he sees recognition in your eyes, quickly accompanied by mischief. “Sit down.” Your voice slurs adorably with your fatigue. He doesn’t get to hear this often. Normally, he’d do anything to stay with you, talk with you just a little more. 

But Miguel is still harder than steel in his suit, so pairing that with the hard metal of his armor, and sitting down? It sounds like the most painful thing he could do right now. “Princess… You should get some res-”

“ Sit down, Miguel.” He stares at you, debating his options again in the face of your stubbornness. You, however, take this as more defiance. “Please?” You beg him. 

You should know you never have to beg him for anything. 

He’s seated before your mouth even shuts. Your mouth is shaped into a smirk before he can take a breath, and you’re in his lap before he can blink. 

“Wha-?” Is all he can breathe out before your mouth is on his. His hands find your hips on instinct, grabbing all that he can and pulling it against him. You pull away. “Thank you.” And dive for him again. 

He places one hand behind your head to ensure you don’t do it again. 

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist or send me some motivation here!!

[kiss-me-cill-me]

It's Always the Quiet Ones

Pairing: Emmett x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: After spending a few days holed up with a rugged stranger, you finally can't take the tension anymore. Things get a little more complicated when he walks in on you.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (f), Emmett walking in on you, quiet sex, biting, begging, one fleeting thought about breeding, some fluff, light angst

A/N: Emmett was honestly the start of my whole descent into Cillian Murphy madness, so I'm really searching for my people with this one lol. He's my sad, scraggly boyfriend and I love him <3

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

It’s strangely beautiful, in an overgrown way. Vines hang off of the chain-link fence as you push carefully through the jagged gap, just big enough for a person to pass through. The long grass reaches well above your ankles, and plants seem to spill out from the negative space of every structure littering the lawn.

The air has a cool, muted hue; it looks like rain later. Eyeing the building in front of you, you decide to stop here for the night. 

One step, and then a pause. Something feather-light brushes against your ankle. You look down to see a tripwire, and back away slowly in the direction you came. Interesting. It has been a long time since you’ve seen anyone else alive out here. Though the owner of the tripwire could be long gone.

You take a second look at your surroundings, this time scanning for any sign of a human presence. It’s quiet, but of course, everywhere is quiet now. Delicately stepping over the tripwire, you continue on your path toward the large building. Its looming, brick facade is featureless except for long stalks of ivy tumbling from broken windows, and as you advance you can’t help but feel that the building is watching. The sensation of eyes on you is made even more unnerving in the silence.

You pick your way across the lawn, careful to avoid shards of broken glass and open bear traps. This abandoned factory is quite the fortress, if anyone actually lives here. You reach the end of the grass, and step through a huge, weathered green door, left open on probably-ancient and squeaky hinges. The air here smells of cobwebs and must.

Inside, dripping water echoes faintly, somewhere from deeper inside the building. It’s cold by the open door, and it doesn’t get any warmer as you walk down the hallway, still keeping a careful eye out for anything waiting to meet you.

You turn a corner, and there he is, unexpected. Unexpected to you at least; the man in front of you seems quite prepared as he levels the sights of his rifle.

Instinctively, your hands fly up. The man’s face is covered, except for his eyes, which look to be the only part of him that’s still alive. Even his handling of the gun seems driven by muscle memory, as if he’s a sentry with no programming beyond, simply: “Defend.” You don’t breathe as he looks you over; relaxes a bit as he realizes you’re a lone woman, unarmed except for the hunting knife at your belt. He doesn’t look friendly, exactly - it’s hard to when you’re pointing a rifle in someone’s face. But he also doesn’t look like he really wants to hurt you. More that he just wishes you weren’t here in the first place.

As a show of good faith, you point to your knife, and then to the floor. You nod at him, questioning. He nods back. Slowly, you lower your hands to your belt and unclip the knife. The faintest click of steel against concrete is audible as you lower it to the ground. Straightening, you point to the man across from you; his gun.

Now you.

Just as slowly, the man lowers his weapon to his side. You point at your knife on the floor, expectantly.

Go on…

He’s reluctant, but after a moment of tense silence, his gun joins your knife on the ground.

You smile; hope that you look thankful and not threatening, like he’s just fallen squarely into a trap you’ve set for him.

Thank you, you mouth.

Beneath the bandana that covers his mouth and the hat that shadows his face, the man’s expression is impossible to read. His eyes, piercing blue even as they regard you more casually, move over your whole body once again. Checking you for weapons, though you don’t have anything else on you. When he’s done, you take a gentle step toward him.

Stop.

The man’s right hand flies out in front of him, fingers splayed. You freeze in your tracks. Desperately, you want to tell him that you mean no harm. You just want a place to stay for the night. There’s a cold fear soaking in the corners of his body; you can feel it all the way from here. You hold out your own hands, palms forward, telling him to stay calm. Nobody's going to get hurt. Keeping one hand in front of you, you reach around to your back pocket, intending to pull out the pad of paper you keep on you for the rare occasions you need it to communicate with someone.

Suddenly, your back is against the wall. There’s a strong hand clamped around your wrist; an arm pressed flat against your chest, restraining you. And the man’s face is inches away from your own, his eyes wild with panic.

The dust settles around you, and the echo of your body being slammed on the bricks fades away. You drop what’s in your hand and nudge your head to point at the pad and pencil, showing him. The man’s eyes roll into the back of his head when he realizes - maybe exasperation at you, or maybe frustration at himself for reacting so recklessly. He starts to move away from you-

Click.

A familiar sound comes from just outside the factory door. It’s one of them.

Shit.

The man mutters something, barely audible through the bandana, and then he’s running. Deeper and deeper into the building, his hand in a vice grip around your wrist, pulling you along after him. You feel like a mess of  awkward limbs and flapping skirts as you try to keep up. The thing behind you is in the building now, crashing carelessly through the hallways in its pursuit. Your weapons are both forgotten - not that they would be any more useful here than they are back on the ground where you left them. 

Ahead, the man has let go of your wrist and is now running at a dead sprint, trusting you to either keep up or be killed. He clearly has somewhere he’s going. You blindly follow him, out of any other options and brain too high on adrenaline to think about where he’s taking you. The hallway has opened out into a room, and now you’re weaving through huge pipes and tanks. Your lungs are about to explode. You can’t keep up with-

Suddenly, the man veers sharply to the left and smoothly jumps into a metal structure. Just like that, he’s gone. Nothing to do but follow. You breathe deep and hold it to stop from screaming as you jump in after him.

Dust. It’s in your throat and your eyes as you fall into whatever is piled at the bottom of the drop. You need to cough, but you fight hard not to. Before you can get your bearings, you’re yanked to your feet and thrust in a direction that seems random, until you reach the lip of the metal tank. The man all but throws you inside even as he’s climbing in after you, and then the heavy metal door is shut and the only sound is of two people breathing.

He tears off his hat and bandana. You watch, mesmerized, as the man’s chest rises and falls, struggling to push enough air into his lungs. Then, he utters the first word you’ve heard him say clearly.

“Fuck.”

The man’s name is Emmett. This you learn as you sit, huddled together but separate, in his makeshift bunker. 

You also learn that he doesn’t want you here.

“Please.” 

Your voice feels tight and painful; jagged around the edges from disuse. It catches sharply in your throat.

“No,” he replies.

The timer on his watch goes off, and Emmett opens the door. His chest is still heaving.

You both step out, listening carefully for any noise above you. The creature, thankfully, seems to have moved on. Emmett stands a little straighter as he turns to face you.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here.” His voice is a whisper, and has the same rusty, unused quality as your own.

“I just need a place for one night.”

You beg with your eyes, and Emmett turns away. He won’t allow himself to be swayed by you.

Later, when it’s - almost- sure to be safe, the two of you go together to collect your discarded weapons. The sky outside has turned an awful gray, and sheets of rain pound into the earth. The sound is louder than anything you’ve heard in months, and the wind howls from all directions. 

Emmett sighs heavily, though he makes no sound. He looks up, seeming to question who would have the audacity to do this, and then turns to you.

One. Night. he mouths, holding up a finger for emphasis. 

He looks at you seriously, and you nod seriously in return. You follow him back down to the lower level, and settle in on opposite sides of the room.

One night, of course, turns into two, and then three. It’s nice to have company. Even Emmett seems to soften a little as the days go on. He doesn’t mention anything about you leaving after that first night, and you take care not to prompt him to. Emmett teaches you how to hide in the huge metal tank; explains the timer and watches you try it with your own alarm a few times to make sure you can do so safely. You busy yourself with mending a few things - broken backpack straps and holes in his old sweaters. He thanks you softly as you hand them back to him.

You catch Emmett looking at you a few times, barely getting a glimpse of the strange expression on his face before he turns away. You catch yourself looking at him too. It’s been so long since you’ve seen another person, but even if it hadn’t been, there’s something magnetic about him. His eyes are like spots of fresh ice against his weathered face. 

“I have something,” you say, over the meager dinner you’re sharing.

You go to your backpack and rustle around, moving slow so as not to make any noise. Finally, you pull out a bottle, its dark glass glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Cream soda,” you whisper, with all the thrill of a child showing off an ill-gotten prize from her mother’s cupboard.

The bottle hisses as you open it, and you both perk up, quickly alert for any sound of a threat above you. Safe. You pass the bottle to Emmett, offering him the first sip. It’s simple, but a rare treasure in this broken world.

“What’s the special occasion?” he asks, the barest hint of a smile drifting over his lips.

You watch as his mouth wraps around the bottle's opening, and as he gingerly tips it back to drink. He takes two quick swallows, his throat bobbing twice, then hands the bottle over to you. You take it, fingertips brushing against his for just a moment, and take a quick swig before you can think for too long about how his lips were just touching the rim.

“It’s just nice to have a treat sometimes,” you reply, shrugging. 

You hand the bottle back and Emmett takes it by the neck, letting the edge of his hand linger against yours for several seconds. You make no move to pull away. 

“It is,” he agrees. “Been a long time since I’ve had anything sweet.”

In the very back of your mind, you wonder if he’s still talking about the soda. No - stop that. You don’t need to go ruining the good thing you have going.

You had asked Emmett, on the morning of the second day, if he was alone. He’d paused for a moment before answering.

“Yes… Well, I mean… Yes.”

You'd decided not to prod any further. 

Now, as you look down at your hand ghosting against his, you notice again his wedding band, firmly wrapped around his finger. It's hard not to notice, and it's even harder to ignore the dozens of sketches that litter the room, pinned and draped on every surface. All of them show the same young boy. He could be a son, or a nephew, or just some random kid that something terrible happened to - you haven't wanted to ask. Everyone is beyond traumatized in this new world, and far be it from you to question whatever brings anyone comfort. Suddenly feeling guilty, you let go of the bottle and look away as Emmett takes another sip.

"Hey," he whispers. Your head snaps back up to look at him. "I have something too."

Emmett puts the soda down between you, methodically clears the table, and pulls out a very weathered deck of cards.

"You ever play Gin Rummy?"

The next morning, Emmett is up early. You stay in your sleeping bag, pretending that you haven't woken up yet, and watch him pull on his hat and boots. He slips on a pair of heavy leather gloves. You stir, "waking up," and Emmett walks over to you.

"Gonna go check the traps," he explains, kneeling down. "I'll be back."

You're struck by the way the moment feels almost domestic; as if he's promising you he'll be home for supper. Your eyes trail over him lazily, taking in the firm shape of his bare arms and the way his hands are abruptly covered by the work gloves. The thought of him roughly grabbing you by the waist flashes through your mind; the material rubbing your skin as his fingers sink into your sides. You swallow heavily; blink a few times.

"You should wear a jacket," you whisper.

Emmett has already started to walk off, but he turns around and smirks at your words. For a moment, it seems like he's about to say something. But it passes, and then he continues in the direction he was headed, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair.

Once Emmett is gone, you have the place to yourself. Scant sunlight filters through the opening in the ceiling, giving you just enough light to read by. You pull out a well-worn book from your backpack, and settle into the chair Emmett's jacket was on to read it.

Quickly, the words start to swim on the page; falling forgotten into the margins. You can't get your mind off the image of Emmett leaving, blue eyes barely visible under the brim of his hat as he looked back over his shoulder. Had there been a teasing look to them, or was that just you imagining things again? Your mind flashes to an image of Emmett giving you his jacket, wrapping it around you, tight and safe. Pulling you close to him, and-

Okay, time to be honest. Emmett has been driving you crazy the past few days. And not in a bad way, but in an "imagining him tangled between your legs" kind of way. You know you shouldn't think like that. Your relationship with him is undefined and shaky at best; you shouldn't go risking it. But it's getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reaching out and snaking your fingers through his hair; against the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve; sliding them down past his belt and-

Stop.

You practically have to bite your lip as you beg yourself. You listen for a moment to the silence. Emmett should be gone long enough. And under three feet of solid concrete, you feel safe to relax a little. You desperately need to let out some frustration.

But still, it feels too open out here. Too exposed. Even if you are alone, you just want some more privacy.

Your eyes drift to the steel bunker.

Okay, you can be quick. You have your watch and can time it and be careful. With how horny you are, this shouldn't take long at all. And in the worst case scenario, Emmett will be back soon and can let you out if you get stuck. This is a perfect idea.

You climb inside, set your watch, and close the door. Keeping your head by the entrance in case you need to rush the exit, you don't waste any time getting started.

You touch yourself, shocked at how wet you are already. Might as well take advantage of the sound-proof tank. You hiss as you slide a finger between your folds, finally not bothering to keep quiet.

"Oh, fuck, Emmett."

You desperately wish these were his fingers instead of your own. You plunge two inside yourself immediately; revel in the delicious sting. Legs squeezing together, trapping your own hand, rutting up against your palm. You imagine him hovering over you, blue eyes staring into yours as he watches you fall apart.

"Oh, fuck!"

Above your head, the door swings open. You freeze, hand still plunged sinfully down the front of your pants and hips bucking halfway off the steel floor. Next to you, your watch alarm beeps, calling more attention to your shame.

You look up, and suddenly Emmett staring back at you isn't a fantasy anymore.

"I'm… uh," you stammer in a hissed whisper, searching for any words. But the power of speech has left you. It seems to have left Emmett as well.

His mouth is practically hanging open, and after a moment of shocked panic, he quickly tears his eyes away. 

Taking the opportunity, you sit up and try to arrange yourself - although it's impossible to look presentable after you've just been caught fucking your own fingers to the thought of the man standing in front of you. 

"I'm sorry," Emmett whispers, frantic. He’s pacing; tears off his work gloves and throws them to the ground. Tosses his hat onto a table and runs a hand through his hair. "I thought something happened, and I wanted… well I didn't think - not that it's anything to be ashamed of. Everyone has urges."

"Do you?"

The sound of your voice shocks even you, despite the low volume you're speaking at. Your legs are dangling out the open door of the bunker, and you watch as Emmett stops in his tracks. 

“What?” he whispers.

“Everyone has urges,” you echo, placing your feet on the floor. “Do you?”

“I don’t know what you…”

You stand up, taking a bold step toward him. Emmett takes a half step back. His eyes are blown wide, fear and confusion, as you take another step. This time he stays.

You place a hand on Emmett’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath.

You’re only inches apart. One more step and your body would be pressed flush against his, just like you’ve been thinking of these past few days. From this distance, you can hear the shakiness in his breathing. 

“Tell me to stop.”

It’s a dare; a challenge; a bald-faced lie. You look up at him, pleading with your eyes for him to stay quiet. To not stop you. To keep going. 

“Tell me to stop.”

You’re on your tiptoes now, lips hovering right in front of his. Emmett swallows hard, and you can feel it reverberate through his whole chest. Looking you right in the eyes, he shakes his head.

No.

Emmett pulls you the rest of the distance. His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you like you can stop him from drowning. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it. Emmett has to hold you to keep you from falling to the floor. 

Gently, he eases you down. You’re desperate, pulling at him, trying to bring him to you faster. Your legs open to wrap around his waist. God, you’ve needed this. 

Emmett is scrambling to take off his jacket, and even though it only takes a few seconds, it is an eternity. To exist without his body pressed against yours. You hastily unbutton your pants, and Emmett tears them the rest of the way down.

There’s a pause, and you look up at him. Emmett is transfixed, but seems to quickly snap out of it when he notices you - embarrassed. You lean up on your elbows, but Emmett stops you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. 

Be quiet.

You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Emmett straddle you; reach his hand down between your legs. 

Oh, fuck.

His fingers are even better than you’d imagined. Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Emmett’s face is stoic with concentration, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him. 

After teasing your entrance for a moment, Emmett slips a finger inside you. There’s that weightless feeling again; it’s like being drunk. You could ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you.

Desperate, you scramble for something to hold onto. There’s nothing on the stone floor. Emmett is your only lifeline, and you grab at the hem of his shirt, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers. 

Panting. You’re actually panting as he pulls out of you, instantly missing the way his fingers curled up inside of you. You’re still holding onto his t-shirt for dear life, and he gently removes your hand. You can’t see straight, but there’s the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being undone, and a zipper loosening. When you look up again, Emmett is hovering over you, his body planted between your legs.

He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you.

The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s plunged into you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache.

“Please, Emmett.”

The fingers on your waist tighten, digging into your side. For a second, you worry you’ve upset him, but then he looks up at you, eyes blazing with lust. He looks like a man about to lose himself, and you smile as you move your hands up to his chest, gripping at his collar to pull him close as you whisper again. 

“Please.”

Emmett is pounding into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Emmett lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. 

“Fuck, Emmett.” 

You whisper in his ear, breath brushing the strands of hair that fall around his face. Emmett brings his own lips right to the side of your cheek; his words tickle as he continues to fuck you.

“You know, you have a dirty mouth,” he tells you. “And here I thought you knew how to stay quiet.”

You whimper, and a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Emmett leans in to whisper to you again, devilishly. 

“Bite down if you need to.”

Fuck, he’s going to be the death of you.

Emmett is grunting, softly, as he fucks into you just a little bit faster. The sound of him coming undone is enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down onto his hand, muffling the sound of your cries as you orgasm. 

If he’s hurt, he doesn’t show it. Emmett continues to rut into you as you bite the side of his hand, trying desperately to stay as quiet as you can. You want him to hold you down, breed you, spill everything into you with no care for the consequences. Emmett pulls his hand away and plants it on the ground, trying to balance himself.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

His words are breathless; you love hearing him like this. You bask in them, arching your back against the floor, not answering.

“Where do you want me to- Fuck!”

Emmett pulls out of you, trying and failing at the last second to cup a hand around himself. Cum gets everywhere, dripping from his fingers to the floor, coating the insides of your legs. He looks down at himself for a moment; shakes off his hand before wiping it on his pants, still halfway on in his rush to be inside you. 

“Now you decide to be quiet, huh?”

He’s leaning over you again, whispering teasingly in your ear. He pinches your waist and kisses your cheek before pulling away, showing you the mischief in his eyes.

Somewhere above you, there’s a crash followed by a loud screech. Maybe you weren’t as quiet as you’d thought.

“Shit.” Emmett yanks his pants up and pulls you both to your feet. The sounds of something getting closer are clearly audible. You should be scared, but instead you’re excited.

“Let’s go.”

You tug at Emmett’s wrist as you lead him toward the bunker. Two minutes and thirty seconds - that’s how long you have before the timer goes off. You tumble, pulling him in after you. The door closes behind you with a soft thud.

You want to hear him scream.

[chrollohearttags]

commissions corner: lesson learned

you always had a tendency to express yourself through fashion but your husband happens to not agree with one of your outfit choices (or your attitude) and decides, you need to be punished!

content warning + themes: cowboy!reiner, mean dom!rei (🤤 bc hello) black fem reader, calls reader slut, rough sex, bondage, clothes ripping, tit fucking, cumshot, spanking, backshots, fingering, spit play, creampie, dumbification, throat fucking, squirting, hair pulling, daddy is used.

word count: 6.5K

this is a commission for @naodreaming! Thank you so much for entrusting this fic to me. I appreciate your patience and do hope that it was worth the wait! Please enjoy 🫶🏾

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marriage: a beautiful conception of two people’s undying love. A bond binding two souls together in bliss for all of eternity. Some choose to solidify their unions with a mere court house appearance and the legal confirmation of a certificate. Others want to go all out with a ceremony, reception dinners, honeymoons..the works. But no matter how you choose to join together with your sweetheart, there is one thing all couples can agree on and that’s the fact that no relationship is perfect! As much as we’d like to think that it’s all sunshine and rainbows, it’s all about compromise, learning and getting out of your own ways. That much became apparent when one day, your husband of five years approached you about a matter that had been weighing heavily on his mind..and other things as well..

“Seriously, Rei? I don’t understand the big deal. It’s just a fucking skirt, who cares?”

“First of all, watch your mouth. I won’t say it again. Second, I care. No woman of mine is gonna be struttin ‘round here, dressed like that. What’s gotten into ya’ anyways, (Y/N)? This isn’t like you.”

This conversation was one that was ultimately inevitable but important nonetheless. What started out as a simple disagreement had escalated into something rather serious. The two of you had never fought or even raised your voices at each other since you’d been together. But now? You were ready to rip his fucking head off! How dare this man treat you like his child rather than his equal? You were livid!

“Because, Reiner! I’m a grown ass woman so don’t tell me what I can and can’t wear–” he truly couldn’t believe what he was hearing..how had his sweetheart of a woman become so aggressive? And over an outfit of all things?! But little did he know, this had been long overdue and the cause of such a breaking point? Well he��d be surprised to know..

flashback - two weeks ago

“(Y/N), come onnn..hurry up!”

“Just a minute. I’m trying to find something.”

It was a sentence they had heard uttered many times before. Honestly, it had become the norm when the four of you linked up for a girls night. You and your three best friends would go out once every couple weeks to play catch up in one another’s lives, divulge in juicy family and workplace gossip and just overall, decompress from kids, husbands and all other stress inducers that came with being an adult. As for you, you were the luckiest among the quartet. No children at the moment, running a successful cooking blog and spending your rancher hubby’s money at your leisure. Your only true occupation was to look pretty and be happy. Honestly, it was all that your sweet Reiner could ever hope for as he spent hours in the hot sun, rustling cattle, baling hay and keeping the one hundred plus acres of farmland in order. He’d work himself to the bone just to see a smile on that gorgeous face. To say he was twisted around your pretty little manicured fingers would be a gross understatement. Some would even call him whipped!..but how could he possibly help himself when you were the literal embodiment of a goddess? That curvaceous figure, deep, decadent skin and gorgeous eyes that could pry anything from him. He was smitten. Perhaps a bit too much sometimes..it was never in a toxic or obsessive manner but you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your husband didn’t have a bit of a jealous side to him. You had to admit, it was cute at times..seeing him get all flustered because some guy stared too hard or tried to hit on you and you’d politely turn them down, reminding them that you were taken and happily so. You’d remind him constantly that he was the only man you’d ever love. In fact, you were equally as infatuated. Practically unable to pull yourself away from him after he’s come home from working all day, drenched in sweat and scars from hauling heavy equipment. Admiring all of his newly acquired muscles..even adding to the collection of markings at the end of the night. But the one thing Reiner despised more than anything was sharing what was his. He loved when you showed off your body..dressing in frilly lingerie or tiny outfits but only when he’d be the sole spectator of said ensembles.

however, you had other plans for the night!

finally stepping from the shadows, heels clicking against the laminate flooring of your two story cabin style home, you’d present yourself to the group. “Okay, ladies. What do we think?” To your dismay though, it wouldn’t be praise or approval you’d be receiving from the other three standing in your living room at the moment. But rather snickers and waves of dismissal. Standing dumbfounded with your purse in hand, (Y/N) questioned what the trio so tickled.

“Girl, we’re going to the lounge for drinks and to dance. Not for praise and worship.”

“Right. Girl, put them damn kitten heels and granny skirts back in that closet.”

Taking one more look over your outfit, you’d try to see what was so wrong with your choice of attire but had no idea. A simple black dress with red bottom slingbacks and a clutch..a sleek and classic look for a grown and sexy night out. But perhaps, this was far too grown. Almost grown enough to be collecting social security! It was outdated and a little old fashioned. Especially when they were all dressed in skin tight bodycon dresses and heels higher than heaven. It would completely throw off the vibe. But they knew the real reason for such a look and needless to say, they didn’t like it. Out of respect for your husband, you tended to dress more modestly when going out with the ladies. It wasn’t a matter of control or fear that made you do so..but one night when you came home with your ass hanging out and tits bouncing around in a revealing top, Reiner couldn’t take his eyes or hands off of you. You looked amazing but after he finished peeling those thin layers off of you and devouring you right there on the couch, you could tell that there was a sense of sadness that had washed over him. He didn’t outwardly say it and he was even a little bashful when admitting it but you got it out of him and what he had to say truly broke your heart:

“Ahh..I don’t know, sugar. It’s just..ya’ look so beautiful and I know how happy it makes ya’ to wear those out with your girls but it makes me a little uncomfortable, ya know? I don’t ever wanna tell ya’ what to do. I trust you and I’m not worried about some other guy but..if ya’ could just tone it back a little..”

he was so sweet about it, you couldn’t help but to comply! It crushed you to think that you’d ever upset your beloved husband. Especially when he was so good to you. And trust, when it was for his viewing pleasure only, you’d have him sweating bullets but for now? You could make that sacrifice. Little did you know, you’d become the laughing stock amongst your group because of it. Ushering her way over to you, one of the friends would drape an arm around your shoulder and breathe a sigh.

“Sis, you know I ain’t trying to cause problems with you and your man but don’t you think this is a bit much? I mean, honestly. I think it’s cute that you’re trying to be the good little wife and all but be for real..this is not your style. You and I both know that.”

before you could even utter a word, another would interject and second the notion. They didn’t want to be those friends who planted bugs in your ear and caused turmoil in your home but they felt as though Reiner may have been asking too much of you. Considering that it was that skin tight attire that bagged in the first place! Hell, when you first met him, you were straddling a mechanic bull in booty shorts and a crop top. A belly button dangling from your pudgy stomach and that ass sitting so heavy, he fucked on the first night. So they didn’t understand the need for reservation now. And the more they spoke..neither did you.

“Yeah, boo. I ain’t wanna say nothing but this whole First Lady thing you got goin on is not it. Girl, you used to have your foot on these bitches’ necks when we went out. Everybody was looking at you and now? You're dressing like Olivia Pope with a hennessy bottle. It’s crazy.”

you knew they meant well but truthfully, they were overreacting..or so you thought! In a moment of haste and you trying to explain the choice of outfit, they would spin you around to the full length mirror and allow you to observe for yourself. “C’mon y'all. You’re making a big deal out of nothing–” but as you saw firsthand, they were not. And this whole frumpy look was a total buzzkill. Feeling up the fabric, you couldn’t believe it..right now, it felt as if you were staring at an entirely different woman. It was a much needed intervention for you and you decided right then and there, that although you loved your husband more than life itself, this had to end. You didn’t carefully curate your closet and have women all around the city jealous of your wardrobe to be dressed like someone’s auntie. Enough was enough!

“You know what? I’ll be right back. Screw this..” and with those affirmations, you turned on your two inch heels and promptly changed.

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fast forward, and now..you were in the midst of a heated argument for your liberation to wear what you pleased. After one of your friends posted a video to their instagram story of you shaking your ass and them smacking it whilst out for a night on the town. But the worst part was when the skirt lifted and you flashed the camera with your barely clothed cunt. The story was spotted by one of their husbands who promptly told Reiner and needless to say, things got a little out of control. He wasn’t hellishly irate but he damn sure wasn’t happy! Confronting you with the footage, he asked a simple question:

“What the fuck is this, (y/n)? Why is yer’ damn ass all over your friend’s Instagram?” Which couldn’t exactly be taken seriously upon first asking with that thick country accent but as you saw he wasn’t joking, you promptly straightened him. “Babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about, seriously. What video did you see?” and once he showed you the clip, it was from up there! You were just as astounded as he was..you didn’t even know that your friends had even filmed you in such a state. But that's besides the point..

“..you promised, (y/n). Now I look like a damn fool because you had to go around dressing like that.” His words stung like sharp daggers because you’d never heard or seen him so irate. But honestly? You didn’t give a damn about his hurt feelings. Not when you were the one looking foolish, all for his sake! “Yes Rei, I did! But I didn’t sign up to be in the club dressed like somebody’s grandma at Sunday Service. I wore the exact same clothes when you met me so what’s the big deal all of a sudden?” Truth be told, he sounded jealous and insecure but as he paced the bedroom floor, shirtless and donning gray sweats, he’d offer up another explanation. One far more annoying than your own conclusion. Either way, you didn’t care and wasn’t going to change shit! You were a grown woman and you also had a father so you didn’t need his ass trying to be your parent. He was being incredibly unreasonable right now. But you’d soon find out just how serious he was about his request…

“I’m not gonna argue with you anymore, (y/n). This conversation is done. Tell her to delete that and I better not catch you in that again.”

because he was no longer asking but rather telling you what his expectation was. However, you couldn’t be vexed to listen and was determined or whatever you pleased. Smacking your lips, you’d snatch the skirt up from the bed and strut past him without so much as a second thought. “Got me fucked up..I’ll be back later—“ but alas, you’d come to find out that your husband was not interested in your disrespectful attitude. With a hand cradled to the back of your neck, Reiner would tug you towards him and halt you immediately in your tracks. It caught you completely off guard; mainly because he had never grabbed or even touched you in such a way. There wasn’t a lot of force behind it but it was very assertive. Something not typical for your doting, sweet husband. “What is your problem?!” He didn’t even waste time trying to answer or explain shit to you and rather..tossed you to the bed. His behavior had you so off kilt, not even you could form the correct words to express. All you could do was turn around and stare at him in complete surprise. However, he’d have plenty to say..enough for the both of you!

“My problem? Oh sweetheart…you haven’t seen problems yet..” muttering through gritted teeth with a faint smirk on his lips. Not once in the entirety of your relationship had your man ever looked so irate. There seemed to be a dormant fire lit within his eyes and your last outburst had served as the unfortunate catalyst for that impending blaze. He was angry..no, he was fucking pissed! Here he was trying to reason with you and you all but spat in his face when he asked for basic respect. Whatever or whoever had caused you to act this way had landed you in a world of trouble that you had no chance of getting out of right now! Returning that grasp back to your throat, he’d snatch your head from the mattress and grimace in your ear.. “don’t even think about moving from this fucking bed. You don’t speak, breathe or even move without my permission. Got it?” And something told you it was in your best interest to comply. “Nod.” Only allowing the command for a split moment before slamming your head back down. “Good girl.” It was something about the abrupt dominance and control that had driven you into a submissive headspace at will. That and the fact that he looked as if he were ready to go on a rampage. You knew your husband and you knew that he wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly but you had truly tested his patience and he was done with the mild mannered gestures. If you didn’t want to listen, then he’d make you in his own way…starting by restricting your limbs. Ensuring that you couldn’t do anything without his explicit permission.

“Just in case you want to get any bright ideas, darling..” reaching over across you, Reiner retrieved the leather strap he had used to fasten his Wranglers earlier in the afternoon. He’d used the belt as a makeshift collar to keep you in place. Stringing it around your neck as somewhat of a leash and binding your hands with a pair of your panties behind your back. With your face buried in the mattress, you’d find yourself ringling around instinctively; more so to feign off the urges arising between your legs. You’d never admit it but it certainly turned you on to be handled like this. Even so, your husband could give a damn less about your enjoyment. He was determined to prove a point and drill into that thick skull of yours. Chewing at your lower lip, (y/n) would be met with the harsh slap of his rough, calloused hands; making direct contact with your bubbly cheeks. “Didn't I tell ya’ no moving unless I say so?” That deep southern drawl ringing out into your ear as he stood behind you. That burly, muscular frame half nude and well on its way to being completely in the buff. He had plans prior, however..to get you stripped first.

“Damnit, pound cake…just what am I going to do with you?…” rhetorically posing the question, and knowing damn well better than to hear a response in return, because you’d surely regret it if he did! So sitting obediently…reaching the blatant epiphany that you had bitten off far more than you could chew. He was no mood in to talk or fight so he’d opt for the next best thing and that was fucking you until every bit of frustration had left his body!

“I think I know where to start..”

the sound of his voice sent shivers creeping up your spine because it wasn’t becoming of your husband and rather a man who was ready to eat you alive. Suddenly, you’d feel the sharp tug of that belt and your head raise from the mattress. In a moment’s notice, the two of you had switched positions and you found yourself near the floor and Reiner was seated in your place. “On your knees..hurry up.” The gruffly sound of his voice sharp and stern, a clear indication that he wasn’t playing anymore. You’d be met with the snap of his fingers and a sharp pull yet again when you didn’t move fast enough for his liking. But it was effective because you were now seated before him like an obedient pet. Awaiting his every word and order. There was a certain air of dominance about him..an energy that exuded confidence and set his dominion over you. That beard formed and shaped perfectly around his face, his voice deep..grovely from being tired and earlier years of smoking cigarettes. You’d never seen your precious Reiner look so roguish…but you loved it! Bringing a hand up to your face, he’d slowly circulate near your chin with a thumb brushing across your lips. Parting them, admiring the beautiful shape..the plumpness and darkish hue surrounding the pouty pink center. He could sit here all night and gaze at them. But alas, he felt they served a much better purpose at the moment. Shoving that thumb between them, he’d glide it into your mouth, allowing you to suckle. A mere preview of what was to come moments later. Those doe eyes fixated on him, nearly breaking his resolve right there but he was determined not to falter but instead, teach you a much needed lesson. “Mmm…nice and slow. Suck on my fingers.” Swiftly adding an additional one to the fray, allowing the second and third digits to become sucked in by your jaws. In essence, he was stretching them out. Preparing the orifice for his use..for his much deserved pleasure.

whilst he did so, he’d use the opposite hand that was still brandishing your leash to work the elastic of his waistband down until that erection was free from its confines. A tiny dampened spot had formed on the outside from what you assumed to be precum. Truthfully, it didn’t take much for him to become aroused in your presence. Hell, even with fury in his eyes, he was still madly infatuated with you. But he had to be steadfast if he was going to make his point. Prying those jaws open with his index and middle digits, Reiner pulled them apart whilst bucking his hips forward and promptly shoving himself inside. The swollen tip of his cock resting idly on your tongue before he began to push further. The faint ‘pop’ when he reached past your first row of teeth. Eventually, his grasp would tighten on that belt and your head would begin to snatch back and forth… faint gurgling arising once he sped up. It seemed as if he was in an entirely different zone right now..one you had undoubtedly put him into..

“Hey, look up…”

the stern command followed by a yank on that leash..which in turn led to your eyes being stretched beyond their limits to ensure that your full attention was devoted to him.

“There we go, sugar…now stay still and let me use that pretty little throat..” by this time, Reiner was steadfast in using you for his full, unadulterated pleasure. Pounding into that oral cavity with brute force until you started to emit strings of saliva..he’d send them rolling down your chin as he thrusted upwards into your mouth. “Fuuuck…that slutty little mouth of yours is good for something..” taking the opportunity to not only jab at you but establish your place for the time being. But alas, it seemed that not even he could withstand the pressure of your jaws coiled around him and withdrew with haste. Taking the sides of your face into his calloused palms, he’d examine the aftermath of his work with a proud smile. Spit smeared all around your face and a glare that signaled you being in a daze..such a pretty sight. By then, the remnants of your sloppy face fucking had trickled down to your breasts and needless to say, he was rather aroused by the sight. So much so, his cock would twitch on instinct. However, his work was far from finished..

“On your feet..I’m not done with you..”

on one hand, you wanted to test your luck right now and defy, talk out of turn for one final plea of forgiveness. On the other, you wanted to obey his every command. Follow through and be good because truth be told, you loved this side of him. This passionate aggression that stemmed only from a place of pure infatuation and love for you. He was sending a message: you were his and no one else’s. They could stare and admire all they wanted but at the end of the day, he was the only one that deserved to see you in such a light. It was a nasty habit of his..jealousy and insecurity but not to an extensive degree. Either way, you rose to your feet with a grin on your lips that truly couldn’t have been helped. Upon standing up, he’d take a moment to glance over your body..the vulnerable and submissive state you were in pleased him far more than he was letting on. In hindsight, he could’ve just allowed you to go out with your girls sporting the skimpy fit, because nine times out of ten, you would’ve came back intoxicated and ready to fuck him silly anyways but this done just fine!..

“Damnit, baby..you have no idea what you do to me..making me act all crazy…”

muttering through deep grunts, sucking his teeth as those erect nipples peaked through the fishnet top you were sporting underneath your shirt for the planned ensemble. Instead he was met with the flimsy material and your big, voluminous breasts. He’d pinch one nipple and suck at the other like a man starved. He was ravenous..wanting to take claim of each orifice on your body. But for now, those tits were his only fixation. After groping you to his leisure, he’d tear open that thin shirt and send them bouncing out. He was so unhinged at the moment, he couldn’t decide what and where he wanted to take you next. Suddenly, he’d shove three fingers between your lips, thrusting them back and forth until he cast out more gurgling noises and trails of spit, which promptly glided down to your chest. “Oh my gosh…” muttering through your pacified state..Reiner couldn’t help but to release another primal grunt. Becoming so turned on by your current appearance. “That’s my pretty little slut…choke on those fucking fingers.”

sharply snatching your head back, you’d come up gasping and glaring at him with somewhat of a smile. By now, that erect member was twitching; spouting precum from the tip..you were afraid he’d burst any minute! “You like that, huh? You like when I treat you like this, don’t you?” Grasping your chin in one hand and tugging at the belt with the other. He’d give you two solid taps across the cheek whilst choking you. The way your tongue splayed out and your face beamed with excitement..the answer to his question was blatantly obvious…

“Y-yes!” “Yes, what?..” questioning once more in that stern tone. “Yes, daddy..I love it.” Which seemed to satisfy his ego well enough. Even so, he wasn’t finished by a long shot. He couldn’t stop until the lesson was good and instilled in that cute little head of yours..that you didn’t run a damn thing around here! “Good girl..that’s what I wanna hear..” rewarding you shortly thereafter with a kiss. The only moment of compassion he’d displayed since starting. Taking hold of your breasts again, he’d place those big hands on either side before scooting closer and maneuvering his cock in between them. “Oh fuck..look at that, baby..yes..” whispering almost to himself, enamored with how those round, perky breasts just cradled him so nicely. That supple flesh squished around his shaft and massaged the skin. Almost as if they were made for him. He’d buck his hips up, groaning and whimpering the further he went..he could tell by the glint in your eyes that you were enjoying this equally as much. His obedient little slut..allowing him to take you as he saw fit. He was glad that you hadn’t complied and gave him such grief because it made this all the more fun..not to be mistaken, he’d never want to harm his sweet, precious wife but something told him that you liked this side of his personality. The only that was willing to get so out of character behind you, he’d surprise both you and himself. Speeding up those sharp strokes, Reiner bucked his hips, commanding you to drool the entire time. Your brain had practically gone blank, only following his commands from here forth. “Shit!..’m gonna come, baby. Hold still—“ what followed was a loud grunt and spouting of his warm seed all across your face and tits, making for a beautiful sight. He’d take a moment to examine his handy work; even pinching your nipples once more..

“Look at you..so pretty covered in my cum..” sticking his thumb between your lips yet again; causing an innocuous stare as those doe eyes fixated on him. Without another word, he’d snatch you up and pull you by the arm the rest of the way until that cute little torso was splayed over his lap. His knees resting in your tummy until he gets you adjusted… “Rei…please..” Your shrill cries served as nothing more than menial noise, going in one ear and right out of the next. He didn’t care how loud you whimpered, moaned or cried. It was of none of his concern..so as long as you continued doing as he asked. “We’ve talked about this, darling..don’t open that mouth again until I tell you—“ the sentence ended with a sharp smack to your ass, which made you yelp. “You lost that privilege when you decided to embarrass me for your little friends. You’re not in control. Do I make myself clear?” His voice was so deep and menacing, almost as if he were another person at the moment. Squirming around; antsy at the sensation of him treating you like a mere object. Responding with a nod..he’d smirk and take hold of your leash again, reeling up his opposite hand to spank you.

“Good, now count.” The first hit came down colliding with your asscheeks, causing you to jolt but the number came out. “O-one.” The next followed, getting even harder than the previous one. You were trying to stay still but the stinging sensations were making you inconsolable. Not because they were painful. But because they felt so fucking good! All of this felt euphoric..surreal even. Your precious, sweet Rei fucking you like a mere whore? It was more than you could imagine. Trying to conceal your smile, (y/n) resumed counting and had reached five when he paused momentarily. He wanted to take a second and examine your body. Truly admire those curves, those lines and flawless skin. He loved how perfectly that ass sat and how it jiggled as soon as his hand made contact. He loved that you barely even contained a gag reflex even when he was forcefully fucking your throat and the fact that you were a dripping mess from all of these antics! It was no wonder that he wanted you to himself. It seemed that his hardcore method of foreplay and revenge had gotten you so turned on..it was pooling around his leg.

“You like this, don’t you…your pussy’s ‘s wet, yer’ dripping down my fucking leg. At least try to pretend to have some shame, baby.”

cackling to himself as he gave you two hard smacks consecutively. From the look on your face, that much was blatantly obvious! You couldn’t fake it anymore and he certainly couldn’t pretend that he was still angry. He just needed you in the worst way right now.. “Don’t worry..lucky f’r you, I’m not good at holding back either. So let’s just cut the bullshit and get what we both want..”

for the first time since this entire ordeal, Reiner would gently caress you; handling you with far more care than he had prior. However, it wasn’t going to last for long because once he got you onto the bed, tearing open your tights, it was game. Your husband would swiftly saddle up behind you, grasping your ass and hips..kneading his fingers into the soft flesh as a means to saddle up behind you. Once he did, you’d outstretch your cuffed wrists, gripping at the sheets and subtly shake your ass..letting him know that this pussy was his for the taking! “But first, I need to hear ya’ beg..tell me how bad you need it, baby..” with a wide beam, lips curled up..Reiner took the opportunity to just sit and admire that soft ripple whilst you pleaded for him. As well as teasing himself against your slit. “Please..fuck me. Give me all that dick, baby..” and without haste, he’d grant your wish. “Well since you asked so nicely..” cackling softly before easing himself inside. The initial sensation caused an audible gasp to erupt from both of you. The feeling was insurmountable as it had also been a week since the two of you had engaged in any sexual activities and needless to say, the tension of this situation, along with the buildup was going to make this all the more satisfying. In that moment, Reiner’s head would fall forward as he mounted you with a foot placed into the mattress and yours would simultaneously become pulled backwards by your hair. “Oh fuck!…” crying out in pleasure when those thrusts inevitably began. Those puffy lips and tight flesh immediately took hold of him; gripping around his cock and emitting a sheath of cream. Smacking noises soon ensued and your mellifluous moans would join the noisy fray. Placing a thumb in between your bubbly cheeks, he’d reign you in and guide you back and forth as he saw fit. “C’mon, take it. Take it like a good little slut.” With all that you had, you’d manage to take hold of the sheets as a form of leverage and comfort. Gripping them and a nearby pillow to stifle your moans but you’d soon learn that his grace had sadly run out! “Did I tell ya’ you could bite that fuckin’ pillow? Let me hear you, darling. All that mouth ya’ had earlier.. ‘matter fact…say it.” His words spewing like venom from a snake’s mouth, he’d hiss into your ear whilst now reigning you in by the neck. “Tell me yer’ sorry. Right now.” And from the immense pressure of the brutal fucking; each one harder than the last and hitting your sensitive spot with precision, you had no choice but to cave.

“ ‘m sorry, daddy! So fucking sorry..oh my gosh!” Your legs were quaking, only mere seconds from collapsing to the bed as he drilled you into the mattress. He was akin to that of a rabid animal, mounting and claiming its prey..even huffing and grunting. It was apparent that the two of you were nearing your peaks and there was no slowing down. That fertile cunt gripping him and refusing to let go. That swollen dick stretching your insides..it was only a matter of time. “C’mon, baby…give me what I want. Do it..” and there was no question of what ‘it’ was: that inevitable rain of sticky, warm juices that came splattering down your thighs, the sheets and his shaft. “Sh-shit! Oh my gosh…” falling flat to the mattress, unable to support your weight, he’d promptly get you into a prone bone position and continue thrusting until he too reached that climatic threshold. Veins had begun protruding from his forehead and his grasp was slipping but he’d hold out long enough just to pump twice more..

“Ohhhh…fuck..”

repressing the words in a low growl before it ascended into a higher pitch as that second load came pouring out. A rope of steamy, white fluid flowed into your womb. Even earning your encouragement. “Come in me..just like that…” the ever so sultry command caused him to twitch as he finished out his orgasm. It was apparent that he was spent and very much over whatever grief you had caused him. Damn that photo, damn that skirt and damn your homegirls..this was the only place either of you wanted to be! Outside interferences or people no longer mattered. Reaching around to unlatch your throat and those wrists from their bondage, your normal, doting husband had flipped you over to examine you..ensuring that you were okay.

“C’mere. Lemme look at you..” caressing your face with loving strokes. That was the man you knew and loved. Always so attentive and empathetic. After coming down from both of your highs, you’d wind up entangled in a very passionate makeout session. “Are you okay, sugar? You know I’d never want to hurt ya..’” “Much better, baby..listen, I’m so sorry, Rei. I should’ve never worn that stupid outfit. I knew how much it hurt your feelings and I should’ve respected that.” But once again, he no longer cared. None of that mattered. All that he wanted was for you to know just how much he cared for you.. “..don’t worry ‘yerself about that. I love you and nothing could change the way I feel about you, sweetheart.” You were glad to know that all was forgiven but it was safe to say..

that your lesson was learned!

[vvenus-child]

❀ an: my first Dean x Reader fic! this was a wild dream I had last night where I could just feel his angst of being ignore by his girlfriend-not-girlfriend. I hope you like it! I post on Ao3 too, mostly Dramione and original works. Here is the link. Feel free to DM me ideas to write down too! ❀ tags: Dean Winchester x Reader; NSFW (just a bit); Angst; Hurt/Comfort

Sam was waving at you from the driver's seat of a rental car. Something inside of chest pinched a bit for not seeing Dean's Impala waiting for you. Your feelings for him were so obvious, pathetic even.

"Hey! How was the hunt?", Sam asked when you closed the door. As usual you two made conversation for most of the ride before falling in comfortable silence. It was mostly like this with him. Sam was a easy person, someone people felt comfortable to share your or to stay in silence.

"Have you talked to him? Is he okay?", you asked sheepishly. The question was hanging in your head since the minute you left the bunker to hunt. Your heart felt tight, your throat sore and dry every time you thought about Dean. Most of it was embarrassment for not being able to contain your feelings, always seeking to be close, to take care of him somehow. But what was love if not the desire to see them happy? What was love if not seeking their happiness by being anything they needed you to be?

Sam laugh's cut your self pity session. He glanced at you in the corner of his eyes, side smile playing in his face like he was a joke you weren't part of.

"You gonna tell me you two didn't talk for the last weeks? He didn't call every night to bitch about how you were taking too long or how I'm never able to make coffee right? Really?", he said shaking his head.

His question caught you off guard for a moment. Frowning at him you took a minute to try and understand.

"No?", the weird assumption really didn't make sense, at least not when it came to Dean. You were the one that initiated the conversations. You were the one that always made sure small things like his coffee or his whiskey never ran out at the bunker. You were the one gravitating towards his presence in the room. So to think he would make the effort to call you, or even miss you, was a wild idea by far.

"Come on!", Sam snorted this time. "You two seem glue by the hip, it's impossible."

"Dean would even notice if I didn't said a word to him", you let out without thinking.

"Yeah, like you two don't spend time alone behind everyone's back"

The memories of the nights spent together, the moments you almost thought he was about to do something flashed in your mind. You couldn't almost smell his scent, hear his laugh, listen to his voice grave sharing bits of his life in the dark of his room when no one else was there to hear but you.

This was becoming ridiculous and painful. You tried to pretend, but it was not useful with Sam. He had a reason for being the one that they used to pry information out of people at hunts. Sam's damn eyes always made people break.

"You know this thing is one sided, so please stop with the jokes. It makes me feel more stupid than usual".

"It's not a joke", he said while parking the car. Sam turned to you with a raised hand. "I'll bet you 100 bucks that if you ignore him for the next few days, he will lose it."

You looked at the extended hand with caution. Right. 100 bucks. To prove your point, which was something you love to do and to stop being pathetic. Easy money. You took the bet without thinking twice. Maybe try to purge this feelings out of your system with a bit more of self respect was just the thing you needed.

You left the pie you bought for him at the trash can before going down to the bunker. Maybe this was going to be fun.

Dean heard the door open with a creak when Sam had finally came back. Behind him, you followed with a smile while saying something.

"Did you bring the pie I asked, Sam?", Dean shouted from the table. He was trying to find this lore about a sea creature that lured man but, supposedly, wasn't a mermaid because the bodies would be found on the shore with their blood drained. A great combination of little mermaid and Edward-fucking-Cullen.

Dean's eyes glanced to you carrying a huge bag over your shoulders. It had been weeks since you left. It was normal to not call during small hunts, but he still felt a bit uncomfortable to not have a single call. It was such a chore to make a phone call or even leave a voicemail every now and then? Just to make sure you were alive?

He opened his mouth to complaint just as you passed right through directly to your bedroom. No hello, hi, how are you, but still laughing at some joke he was not privy to. No tales about how it went, no nothing. That really bothered him for a reason he couldn't pin down. You didn't owned him a explanation, not at all, but it was basic courtesy - in his mind at least.

"Is she okay?", Dean asked Sam who, to anyone's surprise, didn't bring the goddamn pie but seemed to not have forgotten his own rabbit food.

Sam made a fake surprised face that showed him knew something was up.

"I don't know? She was just telling me how the hunt went. Maybe she is tired?"

Dean decided to let it go. He was already pissed about the pie and you acting weird was just the icing on top.

A few days later, Dean couldn't shake the feeling you were avoiding him. At breakfast you only talked and smiled to Sam or answered Dean's questions when directed at you - always with a brief phrase or a dismissive nod. You weren't being rude or down right ignoring him, not at all. Still felt like Dean was nothing but a small fly in your radar or someone you only noticed when he opened his mouth. The easy smiles you two had, the late night conversations, the shared beers, everything, seemed to be gone. It bothered him. It bothered him a lot.

Growing up Dean hadn't felt jealous of Sam most of the times. The kid was his to raised and take care of, especially when Sam's and John's fight got too heated. He had given his life for his brother and would so again in a heartbeat.

But right now he wanted to punch his face so hard his nose would touch the wall behind his back. The fucker knew what was going on and didn't let a pip out of his mouth to help. "She seems normal to me, Dean" this or "Stop being a freak, she didn't not ignore you" that.

The three of you were hunting the vampire-mermaid thing at Fremont Beach a little bit more that 12 hours from the bunker. The change in scenario did nothing to help Dean's situation and, if anything, it worsened. Usually in ride you would offer to drive, in which Dean would deny and say he was fine. This time you only offered to change when Sam was driving. You didn't even complaint about the music, for God's sake.

Dean's breaking point was the way you flirted a bit too much with the waiter at the dinner, an younger stupid college student who was all smiles for you. He didn't even had a beard. Not even a shadow of it. It was ridiculous.

"So what's the matter? You can talk to Mr. Just Came In My Pants but not to me?", Dean asked outright with his jaw clenching so hard his teeth were about to break. Sam chocked loudly with his coffee, while you just looked at him with wide eyes and mouth half open.

"I think I need to smoke a cigarette", Sam said getting up from the table.

Dean didn't let his gaze out of your face, anger boiling inside.

"You don't fucking smoke! Your brother lost his mind and you leave me?", you spoke in a loud whisper.

"I do now", Sam said already at the doors.

Dean waited for a answer. Your eyes, finally looking at his after weeks, blinked so much that he thought the question would've broke.

"I'm speaking to you, we are having this insane conversation right now. I don't know what you are talking about", you said coldly.

The warm feeling spreading in his chest hinted at something Dean didn't to explore. The jealousy, the anxiety about what was going on, all those were feelings he absolutely didn't want to explore. He just missed your company so much. Dean always felt something was wrong with him, something lacking, but when he was with you this feeling lessened. He felt worthy, he felt seen. John never sat down to talk to him, to spend time with him. Sam ran away the first chance he got. Mary... Mary was a whole other can of worms that he didn't want to open. He had Lisa and other people in his life, but they weren't like you. You two were made in the same cloth. The same strong material that would cover loved ones, would protect them. Same shitty childhood, same fuck-up parents. You were the one he shared his life with at all times, good or bad. More than friends or lovers or anything people would use to describe. Dean could point the term to save his life but you were his and the silent was slowly killing him more than any monster would.

"It was something I did?", he asked in a whisper. He jaw clenched in tension, voice raspy and sore from untold words.

Your eyes ran to the window for a second and he was ready to beg for them to come back. When you looked at him again they were filled with caution, your lips pursed in a way he knew you were choosing words carefully. If Dean didn't know you, he could've missed the pain there. Could've missed the blush in your check's or the way your bottom teeth bit your lower lip in worry.

"Because it's pathetic, isn't? The way I was all in your life, hanging around the edges waiting for crumbs of your attention. Waiting until the day you would notice me or how I feel. Even Sam, who is the most subtle person I know, mentioned it. So no, it's not something you did, it's something I did all the time and it needed to stop for both of our sake."

The weight of your explanation took a second to sink in. All that Dean tried to push down was now in the clear, finally acknowledged one of you two. He wanted to go over the table and kiss your lips, kiss you until the wasn't any air between you two. He wanted to act on the burning sensation he always felt when you got too close. He thought back to all those nights in the bunker, when it was late and both of you were just a bit pass tipsy and going on drunk and his eyes would linger longer on your lips or the curve of your neck. Dean thought back to the first time he saw you covered in blood, not yours but someone else's, and his cock got so hard he had to stroke himself twice just to get rid of the image.

"That's what you think?", was all he let out for a moment. "That you hang around the edges of my life?" Dean ran his hand over his lower face in frustration.

Your sarcastic laugh sounded so bitter to his ears.

"It's not what I think, it's what it is", you looked at him in defeat. "I love you and I don't care if you don't like me the same way. I know you care for me in some extend, of course, and I content to see you happy and being your friend or what you need at the moment. But maybe I needed a little time to settle my feelings", you shrugged.

He wanted to break something out of frustration. He could feel the anger burn his veins. All those days, running scenarios, trying to find the reason why this bothered him so much. The old self hate that steamed inside him late at night, his old company, making him formulate all the reasons he could've fuck up your... friendship? The word never felt right between you two. It was something else.

After a moment of silence Dean threw a couple bills at the table and took your hand, leading you both out the restaurant.

"What are you doing? Are you going insane?", you screamed trying to get out of his hold. He didn't let you go, however.

Dean searched with his gaze to see if Sam was around the car before throwing you inside and going right after. He pulled your hair in the back with a gentleness that didn't match the wild expression in his eyes.

"Look at me and listen carefully", he said between his teeth. The fire running thought his veins was even more intense now. Dean could feel your body under his branding him like iron. Your legs around his hips made his cock twitch with the slightness movement of your body. "You are not in the fucking edges. You are all around me. You are all I fucking see. If anything, everyone else is at the goddamn edge and you are in the damn center", he said each word getting closer and closer to your lips. He could smell your breath, something so yours that he couldn't find the correct word to compare. Dean swallowed hard before taking the last step.

His mouth closed down in yours making time stop. Dean groaned against your lips, biting down almost hard enough to break skin. He wanted to taste you, swallow you, in a manner that your being would never not be apart from his anymore. Your hands went up to his neck pulling him closer, trying to breach the barrier of clothes between your bodies.

"Please...", you begged against him, grounding your cunt against his cock. It was deliciously painful to have your body so pliant under him. Having you beg for his touch, a needy expression on your face.

"Shh...", he cooed, "I know... I know".

Dean's hand went down your neck stroking your skin until he got to your breasts, pinching your nipple with just the right pressure. His tongue stroked your lips in a slow, deliberated movement, tasting like starved man.

"I finally get what I want, so you have to be a good girl and take it, alright?"

[jxsterr]

hey. what if link was so consumed by grief he was angry. cuz a tired link is brilliant, a riddled-with-illness-and-depressed link is even better, but what about a link that is so sick of all of this happening to both zelda and him that he's just FURIOUS.

like he's angry as fuck at how, despite everything they have done to protect hyrule, they're right back where they started. all that effort they put into sealing the calamity, those a hundred years link spent asleep just to be able to live again and those a hundred years zelda spent tearing herself apart just to hold that beast back, all for it to be for nothing. all that effort to dispel the ganon from their time only for ganondorf to appear from another time. it's borderline comical. link has to laugh or he'll cry. he's so tired of this constant fight but he's only tired for himself, when it comes to thinking about how much zelda has suffered and continues to suffer it conjures anger so vivid he feels it in his chest. he's so angry at how much the world continues to punish someone who has done nothing to deserve it, someone who has given her all for the people of this world and more and yet she cannot even feel the grace of peace for longer than a few years. she of all people deserves a break more than anything and he finds himself wishing he'd fallen instead of her.

link finds it hard to process or even care about the goings on in lookout landing after he finally wakes up (again). purah is babbling in his ear about something to do with increasing monster attacks but it's impossible to remain present when his mind is so torn up over zelda, his zelda. gods. she really is gone, isn't she? he doesn't know where she is, doesn't know if she's still breathing, or if he'll ever see those emerald eyes again. it's so much harder this time because last time he didn't even know her—at least not as much as he knows her now. her face was blurry back then and her voice was something so familiar yet so distant, but now he loves her. he knows her inside out, knows her favourite tea to drink in the early mornings and what books she'll pull from the bookcase based on her mood. the sun died that day and so has a part of him.

the air beside him feels so thick with emptiness that he finds himself getting lost in helping the local folks just to fill it, taking up a few errands and joining in with the monster control forces just for someone by his side. weeks pass since her fall and link finds himself stuck in the anger phase of grief. it feels like a disease, he doesn't like how angry he feels but goddess he can't stop feeling this way. it's just so fucking unfair. more often than not link finds himself venturing out of lookout landing deep in the night just to kill. not defeat, not vanquish, but to draw blood in a feeble attempt to quench the burning rage inside his soul. he tears his pathetic excuse of a sword mercilessly through the flesh of unsuspecting bokoblins, slices through the tendons of gloom hands and unleashes the full extent of his fury onto the phantoms of ganondorf's shrivelled form. he yells as he plummets the tip of his sword through the phantom's chest until it disperses into thin wisps of gloom, but it's still not enough. it's never going to be enough. he repeats the same useless task every night yet it does nothing to change anything. he's still angry.

purah's told him about the phenomenas pestering the four corners of hyrule but he can't bring himself to focus on the world just yet, so he goes to mount lanayru. he's waist deep in frozen water with hands clasped around one another when he begins his plea to the goddess. he asks her why zelda was served a fate as cruel as this, and why he seems forever cursed to walk hyrule alone. she doesn't answer. it irritates link, so he repeats himself louder. she still doesn't answer. he's yelling at her now, using the full extent of vocal cords that have barely moved since he awoke, and driving his fists through the spring water in an act of overwhelming frustration. answer me! tell me why we have to endure this! he cries, but the goddess is evermore silent. he chokes out a sob, and then, in a moment of fury, unleashes words undeserving of anyone to hear, not even ganondorf himself. he needs something that will just sit there and take it and right now he's beginning to understand the frustration zelda felt all those years ago when all her efforts went under appreciated. he decides this act is some sort of revenge for how the goddess has ignored them, even if it really isn't her fault; he just needs to feel like he's done anything of use when he's been rendered so powerless. his bitterness only continues to grow the longer she ignores him, until he's exhausted himself from the outburst and stands in the water until his limbs go numb. pathetically quiet, he curses the goddess.

when link learns of zelda's fate after the final tear, he goes missing for weeks. the only noticeable trace of him in the world is the sudden lack of monsters in some areas of hyrule, namely the lynels. the tears had acted as a sort of comfort to know that at least wherever zelda was, she was able to find some sort of comfort or happiness there. the memory of zelda and sonia made him cry hysterically afterwards, of course she still finds a way to speak of him even when they're separated by a millennia or more—but the final tear makes him feel like the air was knocked out of him. he can't even think about it, he tried to ignore zelda's dragon floating aimlessly about the skies for the first few days but the grief became too much. he finds himself cross legged on her snout, braiding blue nightshades amongst silent princesses in her mane, taking comfort in talking to her about the weight of everything on his shoulders. purah's search party is useless when he spends the first week or so constantly by zelda's side, sleeping in amongst the warmth of her locks and offering her buttered apples whenever she perched. "hey, old girl."

seeing zelda this way, knowing she has destroyed herself just so that he may prevail in the fight against the enemy who caused all this suffering.. link vows to become his worst nightmare.

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello I hope ur request are open! If not be free to ignore this!! Okay so TADC x y/n? (The amazing digital circus also it can be muti characters or one!! The choice is yours!! ^ ^)

OKAY OKAY SO WHAT IF..🥁🥁🥁 y/n was like Jessica rabbit from "who framed roger rabbit" 👀 and was very like motherly to everyone but when she was called doll,/toots,/ect, by jax or anyone SHE WOULD PUNCH THEM HARDDDD (kinda like the lola bunny fanfic??) Also she is like one inch taller then jax (she a tall women👀❤️)

(HAVE FUN WITH THIS IDEA!! DONT RUSH YOURSELF TO DO IT TAKE UR TIME ON IT!! AND DRINKS LOTS OF WATER AND EAT FOOD!! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY/NIGHT!!🫶🫶)

Digital Circus x a jessica rabbit-type reader!

since im a little melty brain from blasting through a bunch of requests today im going to do part of the cast! mostly characters i think would be interesting with this kind of reader as well as some characters i just wanna write more of (cough cough kinger cough cough)(i was originally going to do gangle as well but uhuh!!) ...this reminds me ive never watched who framed roger rabbit... or rather i have, but its been so long that ive truly forgotten nearly every aspect of the movie relying on the character wiki talking about her personality to guide me through this

CAINE:

caines and jax's parts are both likely going to be on the shorter side thanks to both of their cores holding similar themes in regards to half of the idea

anyways he's going to call you pet names, especially if he's interested in you.. good luck trying to land anything on him, though, he's going to easily zoom through the air

okay nod to the lola bunny request aside, i think caine would be just head (jaw?) over heels for you, i mean, he would be anyways, but something about your caring and quick witted personality

probably makes literal heart eyes at you and audibly goes "awooga"

absolutely loves watching you do your thing during the in house adventures, on the few times he actually spectates them; though you may or may not be the reason he watches

seems like the kind of person to call you "hot stuff" or "babe"

doesn't really care about the height difference since he rarely ever stands on the ground anyways, plus he doesn't care how small he is

JAX:

to get a good idea of how jax would interact with you, i recommend this similar post! hope this links correctly, im still new to linking stuff in my posts!!

a lot of elements from the post above bleed into this, but lets add some more to it to make it a little more unique to the jessica rabbit idea!

takes it upon himself to try to get some sort of reaction out of you, outside of the name stuff... which proves to be a little harder than he thought.. actually, oddly enough, you seem to enjoy his antics?

well thats certainly new to him...

aaaaaand oh! hey would you look at that you've officially caught his attention, congratulations!

does not take too kindly to being the new second tallest, though... sure you're barely taller than him but its the principle! how can he lord his height over everyone else now!

KINGER:

so here's where i may be biased since i love kinger and i wish more people wrote for him, so his part may be a little longer, we'll see! i write these lil notes as i work on the post

right away i dont think he would call you any of the petnames listed above, or anything similar. i think, should you guys get on a nickname basis he would call you sweeter ones, "my love," "my darling", "my sweetheart", and similar stuff!

does not have lightning reflexes like jax and caine but if the names genuinely do bother you he would likely stop, you'll just have to remind him

imma be so real this man needs someone to stand back and just be there for him because he is going through it, so to have someone in his corner who has his best interests at heart will really do a lot for him

no comment on the height difference since kinger is pretty tall himself (and hes taller than jax! the only reason jax isnt upset about that is because kinger is always hunched), but i dont think he gives a darn about height

i am once again thinking about the in house adventure prompt with kinger that i had earlier, where he gets stuck somewhere and you have to go rescue him... this + that prompt, JUMPS UP N DOWN

[hyunjilicious]

most to least kinky [skz ver.]

A/n: this has probably been done a million times before but I thought I could make my own list, right?

Warnings: this isn't full on smut, but A LOT of things are mentioned (from slapping to ass eating to crying to cnc) I can't possibly mention them all. Needless to say, this is strictly 18+, please proceed with caution!!!!

Disclaimer: I'm sorry. I'm incredibly sorry, ok? I don't understand Seungmin 😭😭 I absolutely love him with all my heart, but he's a mystery to me. I've also only been in this fandom for a few months so maybe with time I'll be able to write for him but until then, I'll just keep apologising to my Minnie biased readers for doing their baby dirty. I'm sorry, I promise I'm trying!! 🥺

Please let me know what you thought and if you have other ideas!! I'd love to hear different opinions!!!

1. Lee Know 

Do I even have to explain? At this point, you could basically write an entire encyclopedia only using the stuff this man is into - he knows it all and wants to try it all. The thing is, whether he trusts you enough or not, because if he's too shy to bring up the one thing that's on his mind, he'll bombard you with hints, hoping he'd "manipulate" you into mentioning it first. Not that he'd ever do anything you're not 100% comfortable with, but he'd much rather you be the one who asks. He'd slap your ass, bite it, mark it, grope it, eat your pussy from behind and send you porn links - all while hoping you'd finally get the idea and ask him to eat your ass. Because he's shy like that. But once you do catch on and tell him about it, he's all in. 

And then, as he grows more comfortable around you, all these little games you two play will slowly start to shift. His main priority will always be you, but with time, his teasing nature will replace the old Minho you used to have sex with, and literally everything this man does will be about driving you insane. 

He'd make you beg, whine, crawl on your knees, hump pillows - hump his leg, just so you can prove yourself, only to deny you again, always with a grin on his face. A loving smile as he looks at you, right before he throws a very swift "No" in your face and makes you start over. You have to be spent, exhausted, dumb and drunk on him before he finally gives you what you want. But when he finally does, it's everything you ever wanted and more because he doesn't.hold.back.

2. Jeongin

To be fair, it might be because he had to go through the "Watch your mouth, there's a child in our grup!" phase, which - cute and all, got old very fast. Maybe this side of him would have never surfaced like this, but you can't possibly know, there's only one Jeongin and he's a meanie. He's stern, he's serious and there's only one way, his. 

He takes the safe word very seriously because otherwise, he doesn't take no for an answer. There's no "too much", "too hard", "too fast". He doesn't care. He knows you can take it and you have to. 

You don't move, he moves you. If you don't shut up when he tells you to, it's 'ass up, face down into the pillow' - no questions, no warnings. 

It all starts nicely, though. His good little girl, his angel, who needs to do absolutely everything she's told otherwise his punishments will be downright cruel and you'll be nothing more than a "dumb, fucking whore" until he's done with you. 

One thing that makes him draw the line though, is crying. He loves to see little tears at the corner of your eyes as he fucks you into oblivion, just so he can mock you for it, "Oh, is my sweet, little baby crying?" and then go faster. But if you let out anything more than a cute, little sob, or if you start actually crying, even though you're still down to keep going, he won't. He can't. He's cruel, but not that cruel, it hurts his heart to see you like that and absolutely never lets things get that far.

3. Felix

This man is into… everything. His eyes light up every single time there's something new for you two to try, and he puts his whole soul into it. 

On one hand, he's into the basics - he goes crazy for your tits, will lick, bite, suck and eat anything off of them (absolutely adores eating cream off your body, but yeah, your tits are his favorite spot). He loves lingerie, loves ripping it off of you, loves seeing you dress up, pretend to be a nurse, a teacher or the girl next-door who just so happened to leave the window open. 

Doesn't have a daddy kink but he's just so obsessed with doing absolutely anything for you, he'd go with it. Most likely prefers 'Sir' but it isn't a must. Will melt and cry if you allow him to fall you 'Mommy'

The definition of a switch. When he's a dom, 90% of the time he's soft, full of praises and encouragements, loves making you feel all safe and loved as you degrade yourself for him. He'll whisper in your ear the absolute sweetest, most loving words you ever heard in your entire life, all while completely breaking you in half with his cock. But also, there are times when there's just one way for him to relax and let loose, and during those days, he's lazy and he's condescending, judgy and a little bit mean, and these are the absolute worst moments for you to be brat. 

But all of these are only half of him, because this man is probably the most dedicated and enthusiastic sub in the world. He'll do absolutely everything he's told and then beg for more. Way too eager to humiliate himself for you. Also very, very vocal, he'll cry, whine and beg and will also never fail to let you know just how obsessed he is with worshiping the ground you walk on. 

4. Chan

Also a switch, but it takes months, if not more, for you guys to get there. He's a leader by nature, used to having a lot of responsibilities and a lot of control over the things around him. He likes to be in charge, knows how to do it, and loves the responses he gets. Probably one of the best doms out there because even though you have a safe word, he's so fucking careful with you at all times that he knows to slow down before you even have to think about using it. It only happened once, and your voice still rings in his head - he still hasn't forgiven himself for it. 

But since he's so observant and trusts you to put a stop to whatever is going on in case you need to, he feels free to go crazy. Unlike Jeongin, he likes to hear you cry, likes knowing he has that power over you and the fact you know how easy it is for him to absolutely wreck and ruin you, but still allow him to go crazy, drives him wild. Trust is probably what gets him off the most, he absolutely adores how you give up control and leave yourself at his mercy. 

But then again, as your relationship strengthens and he slowly realizes that maybe he doesn't always have to be the one to do it all, that others can take care of him too, that he can actually let loose and renounce all control, you start to see another side of him. 

He's an exemplary sub, not one brat bone in his body. He tries sometimes to test you, but he goes back to being doe eyed and whiny for you in no time. He's not as vocal and not as eager to let all his enthusiasm show, but just like Felix, he'll do absolutely anything you tell him, and then thank you for allowing him to do it. 

5. Han

Another switch. He can be a dom and he can be a sub, but I think there are two other sides of him. This man will go back and forth between being the absolute, most cocky motherf on the planet, to being absolutely wiped and wrapped around your finger. And while these for aspects of him can pair up in any way, leaving you with a teasing dom, a loving and soft one, or a bratty sub that will try to make you prove to him just how badly you need him to worship you and so on, I think he's not always like this.

You can't really tell whether there's a pattern, but maybe if you spent more time together you'd be able to spot one. Maybe it depends on how his day went, how tired he is, how his social batteries are like at the moment, but I think there are many, many days when this man just needs to feel you, to smell you, hear you. To collapse into the sheets with you, forget about the world and melt in your arms. Yeah, he's down to try a lot of stuff, but what he loves the most are the simple things. Like missionary late at night, with the lights on so he can see every glimmer of anything in your eyes, to wipe the sweat off your temples and to be able to smother you with kisses. Impromptu sex in the morning, lazy sex in the shower, cuddling that turns into you riding him on the couch while watching a movie. That's what I think he's into the most.

6. Changbin

Thank god this man is not the kinkiest because he'd probably break you in half and no amount of aftercare would be able to fix that. This man goes hard. No matter if you're the one that woke him up, all needy and clingy, or if he came home riled and ready to go, he's already ready to give you his all. That dumptruck isn't there for nothing, he doesn't even have to try that hard to make you scream. 

But it's not just physical, he goes all out in all ways. He doesn't just want you on your back, legs spread open so he can eat you out, no, you have to be on his face, full weight down on top of him, and you have to ride. Other than that, you don't really have to do much, because he's a sucker for handling you. He'll hold up your weight when he fucks you against the dresser and he doesn't mind being the one who gets rid of all the clothes in the way when he randomly decides he wants to fuck you bent over the kitchen table. 

So I don't think he needs much more than you two already have. Of course, he's usually fine with trying things you're into, and yeah, he likes them, but that's just more like 'fun' to him. He's not the kind to call you degrading names or spank you until you cry, through he might enjoy a little bit too much seeing his hand print on your ass or the bruises he left on your hips just from hard he was holding onto you while fucking you into oblivion.

Out of all the things you'd get him to try, I think one of his favorites would be wax play. He'll probably ask you to do it again, maybe like 3 months later. Also, one other thing that gets him going and that he still might be shy about it, is just how hard his cock twitched when you called him daddy. Oops. I don't like it, please do it again.

7. Seungmin 

Ok, again, disclaimer with this one. I wanna start by apologizing to Minnie and to all the Minnie biased readers that are here with us today, but I can't read this man. At all. And that's the reason I put him so low on the list because while I do have some ideas, associating him with certain kinks and stuff felt completely empty to me. Like I have no idea what he'd like? But in case you've read this far, lemme tell you what I did manage to come up with and please let me know how you see it!!

I think trust, communication and fun are the most important to him. I feel like he'd have so much fun guiding you and giving you instructions on how to do different things, from how to suck him off just the way he needs it, to how to use a toy on yourself. And I think it goes both ways, he'd love to have you tell exactly how and what to do at all times.

I also think he can be stern and commanding, serious and totally focused, but he also probably adores being a giggling mess, unable to control himself as you give him your all, worship him and make him feel absolutely cherished. I'm sorry, but I feel like this man thrives on love and appreciation. Other than that, my brain is empty, please help me!!

8. Hyunjin

Ok, maaaaybe I shouldn't have put him last. But fuck it. Sue me. I don't think he's kinky at all. I think that again, he'd be the type to try out most of the things you come up with, but I don't think he associates them with sex like that. I think it's just some form of fun you two have, I don't think there are too many crazy things that necessarily get him going. 

He's a romantic, ok? His main goal is pleasure. He's the kind to absolutely not give a shit about anything, all that he needs is you. If he has you and a surface (not even mandatory) he's satisfied. He'll do absolutely anything, worship every single inch of your body. The kind to kiss his way up your leg before eating you out, to kiss you before you even finished swallowing his cum. Nothing to him is gross, to him, bodies are beautiful and made to be worshiped. He'd paint your body, lay back and allow you to do absolutely anything you want to him, he's just full of want and passion. 

I don't think he'd ever be the kind of person to associate pain or humiliation with pleasure. Like he knows they're valid kinks and will not shame anyone about it, but with him, you have to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, loved, cradled and appreciated in absolutely every way. 

Absolutely the type to eat your ass and then be like "What? People don't do that?". Doesn't think spitting in each other's mouths is degrading because, "We literally kiss all the time, what?" 

Will ask you to slap him just to see what it's like but will probably malfunction if you ask him to do it to you. 

I think he'd be down for a lot of stuff, but doesn't see any of them as kinks. Doesn't need any of them. They don't get him hard. It's all just for fun. 

Please let me know what you thought!! I'd love to talk about this!!! ❤️

[faetreides]

I have had this thought running around all week. What if reader was sejanus’s girlfriend but Coryo was in love with her, so when he returns to the Capitol after everything in district 12 and the reader is upset that her boyfriend had died and been labelled a rebel, he’s there to comfort her and later married her.

I realised that there’s a few gaps in this but I don’t even care cause I’m so obsessed with the thought! Love you!!💗

I debated on answering this bc this is a fairly common "trope" in the corio x reader space, but I decided to see if I could do something a bit different with it, I hope you like it & I love u too!!

(TYPICAL CORYO WARNINGS Y'ALL)

In my head, canon era Coryo would be a lot more confused by being able to feel anything romantic for anyone. It's not like you're a childhood friend of his, or a new transfer from a district family that won the gamble and made it big, no. You're just one of the many middle tier capitol families who while never being on the same level as others, they also had less to lose. It would make something in his gut simmer, if your family was any more significant than a fly hovering around a rotting corpse. You are not the asset that Sejanus is.

But he hates seeing you link arms with Sejanus as you walk out of class together. He loathes the sight of you two splitting a cookie and feeding it too each other like it might as well be your wedding cake. It isn't until Coriolanus "happens" to be wandering through the academy corridors after hours, that his mind catches up with his cock. It's useless to count how many times he's rubbed his cock raw to the memory of your panty covered crotch under your skirt (you don't wear them constantly so you're a bit stupid about remembering to be careful).

Your moans, which he's already heard through the walls of your apartment when he couldn't resist the urge to see you, tip him off. He ducks around a nearby corner and peeks out to see you and Sejanus locking lips. What's worse, is that he can see that your pants are pooled around your ankles, and Sejanus is nearly throwing his back out thrusting his dick in your dripping hole. Huh. Coriolanus would've never pegged you as the sort of person to take risks like that, but you must need the added thrill to be wet enough for your boyfriend.

Coryo knows that there's nothing special about the softer moments you and he share. That the food you sneak him is given because you're a nice person and not because it kills you to see the love of your life starve. You aren't implying anything when you explain Antony and Cleopatra to him (he didn't need you too, he just wanted to have more memories of your voice and to make you feel smart). But he can't stop himself from drafting up a false reality, which he's believing is become less and less false with every touch and glance.

In the days after his return to the capitol when all is said and done, he tells himself that Sejanus had to die so he could live. That that's all it came down to, survival. Deep down, he doesn't bother kidding himself. He knows that he saw the perfect opportunity to get rid of the thing standing in between him and his happily ever after, and that you weren't very bright when it came to capitol propaganda. You might even feel inclined to be grateful once you learn about your beloved was all too willing to betray you and run off with some district songstress.

Having less to lose doesn't mean you have nothing to worry about. If anything, it makes you an easier target.

He gets a reoccurring nightmare about Sejanus having survived the hanging and biding his time in the woods of district 12 before coming back to hunt him down, to get you back. The paranoia will never fully go away.

[moremaybank]

UR BEST FRIEND — s.c

pairing sarah cameron x fem!reader

summary sarah's dating john b, but also happens to be in love with you; john b's best friend. (based on the song "ur best friend" by kiana ledé feat. kehlani)

warnings oral sex (fem. receiving), fingering, choking, spitting, scissoring, language, cheating (sarah on john b — oops), kinda toxic and a lil angsty with a fluffy ending

author's note the "ur" is intentional! song linked here ♡︎ please listen to it, it's one of my faves of all time and you def won't regret it

sarah masterlist

we ain’t felt like us in a minute

whole damn time i knew i shouldn’t have did it

might’ve got too excited, i’ll admit it

almost called your name when he was in it

Sarah finds that she can’t cum unless she pictures that it’s you who’s making her do so. It’s not like the sex with John B is bad. It isn’t. It’s a shame what she’s doing to him, convincing him that she’s head over heels and insatiable when it comes to the love and touches he provides her with as if she doesn’t feel those very things for his best friend. But she can’t bear to hurt him. She cares about him deeply, and there is a connection there. 

Still, ever since you came around and intertwined your life with hers deeper than she’s ever imagined, she’s been missing that spark with her boyfriend. The spark that makes her knees weak and makes her stomach do flips. The spark that ignites a flutter in her core, that makes her soak through her panties in anticipation of the pleasure that will soon fill every molecule of her being. 

The spark that only lights because of you.

She opens her eyes, and she’s almost disappointed when her eyes land on John B’s and not yours. Your soft skin isn’t pressing against hers. Your kiss-swollen lips aren’t the ones melting into her own like silk. The moans of ecstasy aren’t emitting from your sweet mouth. 

All Sarah wants is you, and she has you. But not right now, and not in the way she truly longs for.

ooh, it’s wrong, but you make me feel right

textin’ your phone while right beside him

wish it was anyone besides him

It’s date night for Sarah and John B, the two of them on the couch in the chateau as they watch a movie. 

Sarah scrolls mindlessly through her phone, her feet propped on John B’s lap while he dozes off. The main characters in the movie are slowly becoming intimate, their kisses growing deeper and sloppier as they begin to remove each other’s clothing and profess their love in a toe-curling fashion. 

Sarah’s thighs squeeze together as she tries to quell the ache but also provide a small sense of friction to her throbbing clit. She’s crazy. John B’s right there. She could take care of things right now, and find her release with the help of her boyfriend. But she isn’t thinking about him.

She’s thinking about you.

She whips out her phone once more, opening her messages and clicking on your shared chat.

i miss you :(( please tell me you get off work soon

Her eyes flit up to the top left corner of her screen, noticing that the time is now nine o’clock on the dot. Once her eyes return to your messages, she sees that you’re typing. Anticipation and excitement roll through her as she awaits your response. 

just finished baby. meet me at mine in a half hour?

Sarah grins as she types out her response.

you can bet on it <3

i was with my man last night

and i just realized what i felt that night wasn’t wrong

thought about you in the whole car ride, like

i hate that you ain’t your best friend (x2)

“God, I missed you,” you mumble against Sarah’s wet lips. 

The minute she stepped inside your house, you pulled her in for a kiss and wouldn’t dare let her go until you got a little fill of what you’d been waiting all day for. Then, before you both knew it, you were piled into your shower with your naked bodies pressed together as one.

Your lips trail down her neck as your hands move to massage her breasts. You pinch her nipples and she sighs as she leans against the wall. Her back arches and she pushes herself further into your hold. 

“I missed you more. Haven’t even gotten off properly since the last time I was with you.”

“Yeah?” You ask, leaving more open-mouthed kisses on her skin while you slowly sink to your knees. “I can fix that for you if you’d like.”

She nods, her eyes screwing shut when she feels your thumb swipe over her clit ever so lightly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You grin, “So pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

Your hand hooks under the back of her knee and you pull her leg over your shoulder, opening her core up to you. Your hands then move to cup her ass, and you force her cunt onto your tongue. Her hips buck when your tongue graces through her folds, licking and sucking at anywhere you can reach. You flick stripes onto her, taking your time and teasing her as you ghost around her most sensitive bud. You can taste her arousal as it seeps out of her more and more, and you savour it as if you’ll never get another chance to do so. 

“You taste so good,” you murmur. You slip a finger into her slowly, pulling back to watch her face contort in pleasure. “You’re so tight too. Barely giving my finger a chance to move, baby.”  

Returning your mouth to her, you trace the outline of her clit and feel her buck her hips into you when you start to suck on it. You pull away to speak as you add another finger. They hook up into her g-spot, curling and probing it as your eyes lock with hers.

“That’s it. Ride my face. Use me just how you like,” you encourage, sticking your tongue back out for her use. Her hands slip into your hair as she obeys you, holding your head in place and riding your tongue with need.

Her moans grow louder, and you shake your head back and forth when her motions falter, helping her reach her high. Your face is practically buried in her when you flick her clit just right and press the special spot inside her simultaneously, causing her to fall apart. She releases your head, twisting and pulling at her nipples as she rides out her orgasm. She shivers, nearly losing her balance if it weren’t for your hold on her. 

“I love watching you cum,” you speak, slowly slipping your cum-coated fingers out of her hole and rising back onto your feet. Your other hand grabs her face as you push your fingers into her mouth, letting her taste herself. “You look so pretty, like an angel.”

hey, he had the courage to step up ‘n pull up

six speed like

puttin’ so much work, just to make it work

and he’s almost perfect, and that’s why it hurts

and he calls me family, that’s what make it worse

You’d harboured feelings for Sarah long before she was even on John B’s radar. Truthfully, you didn’t think she would ever be into you, and so you never made a move. But the guilt bubbled inside you so powerfully whenever you saw the two of them together. It also didn’t help that he’d come to you for everything, especially when he was in dire need of help. You suffered through hearing about their first date, the first time they slept together, and everything in between. 

You envied him. If only you’d had the courage the way he did, maybe you’d be in his position. Getting to call Sarah yours in public. Kissing the life out of her whenever you saw her, no matter who was around or watching. Being the only one who got to touch her and make her cum in the heavenly way she did so. 

It isn’t fair. Lusting and pining after your best friend’s girlfriend. John B’s always been there for you, without fail, and he’s one of the most important people in your life. But you can’t help your feelings, they’re uncontrollable. And though you wanted Sarah first, you couldn’t just turn off what you felt for her in the blink of an eye.

“You good?” Kie asks as you watch John B pull Sarah into his hold, seeing the two of them giggle and beam at each other. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Why?”

“Maybe because you’re giving John B and Sarah the death stare.”

Your head snaps away, your eyes finding Kie’s immediately as you try to play it off.

“Nah, it’s not…it’s not like that. I just zoned out. I got a lot going on.”

“Whatever you say,” she hums, taking a swig of her beer.

Your eyes move back onto the couple for a few seconds, and Sarah happens to catch your eye. She gives you a saddened look, mouthing an I’m sorry to you form across the way. You nod in response, giving her a half-hearted smile before getting up to get another drink. 

There was no way you could stomach the sight of them sober.

it’s wrong but i make you feel right

you textin’ my phone while right beside him

wish it was anyone besides him

“Oh my god, yes!” Sarah exclaims. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

You continue rolling your hips, rutting your clit against Sarah’s as you ride her pussy. You’re clutching onto her left leg, adorning the skin of her calf and knee with kisses. Her pleas rile you up further, and your left hand grabs her by the throat. 

“Open wide for me,” you command with a stern voice, squeezing your hand slightly. 

Sarah listens, always one to follow your orders. Her tongue sticks out as she stretches her mouth open for you. You lean down, spitting into it and letting your grip on her tighten as you ride her harder. 

“Now swallow.”

Sarah does as you say, showing you the proof when her mouth opens up to you again.

“Such a good slut for me, hm? You’d let me do anything I wanted, wouldn’t you?” Your fingers stuff into her mouth, nearly gagging her as you begin to swivel your hips in a circle and throw your head back as the pit in your core tightens. It starts to build, tighter and tighter as you’re on the brink of your release. “Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

You retract your fingers from her mouth and they find purchase in her hair as you pull her head up to your chest. Sarah sticks out her tongue, slithering it against one of your nipples as her eyes lock on yours. Her hot breath against your flesh makes you shiver as it breezes over your wet bud. You cry out when you cum with Sarah right behind you as her head falls back against her pillow. 

“Yes, fuck!” 

You nearly collapse on top of her, your lips finding hers and capturing them in a greedy kiss. You lick into her mouth, tasting her as your chest heaves. When you pull away, her eyes are dancing with mischief.

“Wanna go again?” 

Before you can respond, her phone dings, notifying you both that someone has texted her. The hand she has on your hip squeezes it in comfort as she reaches over and grabs it. Her smile fades, and your brow raises.

“Who is it?”

She gulps, “It’s John B. He…He needs me. Something went down between him and JJ.”

“Right, yeah,” you say, climbing off of her slowly. “I’ll just go then.”

“Y/N,” she speaks, her voice in a pleading tone. “You know that’s not what I want. But he’s my boyfriend. I’m supposed to be there for him.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t need you to remind me that you aren’t mine.” The bitterness seeps from your voice as you get dressed. “I’m just getting tired of being your secret.”

“Y/N, please. I’ll tell him. You just gotta give me time.”

“I have given you time! It’s been months, Sarah. And I know it isn’t easy for you, but, fuck, it’s not easy for me either. He’s my best friend.” Your movements come to a stop, and you find her eyes. “Maybe…maybe we should just end this. We both know that you won’t walk away from him, and I’m not gonna stick around and get hurt by you even more than I already have.”

Pain flashes across Sarah’s face and she gets out of bed. Her hands find your face when she reaches you, urging you to look at her again. 

“Don’t. Don’t leave me.” 

She pulls you in for a kiss, soft and head-spinning as her lips brush against yours. You try to resist, but you can’t help it. You melt into her and grant her access when her tongue swipes against your bottom lip.

You’re stuck. You’re in deep. Too deep.

you was with your man last night

and you just realized what you felt that night wasn’t wrong

thought me on your whole car ride, like

i hate that you ain’t your best friend (x2)

The drive home from Sarah’s is a mopey one. Void by The Neighbourhood buzzes through the speakers of your car, contributing to your sulking. Part of you wonders if she feels the same way you do. Far past hurt because you can’t be together. Envious when she sees someone else’s hands on you at a party, like she wants to rip them away from you and pull you into her own arms instead. Dying to kiss you when she catches your eye in public. 

Part of you thinks that she’s just into you for the sex. That the reason she won’t leave John B is because she’s getting the best of both worlds. A relationship with someone who dotes on you without ever wavering, and great, passionate sex with someone she considers to be her current fixation.

But you can’t be more wrong.

Meanwhile, on Sarah’s ride over to John B’s, all she can think about is ending things with him. It’s horrible timing, but the longer she waits, the worse it becomes. She’s hurting badly. She wants to be with you. More than she’s ever wanted anything in her life. The way she loves you is tearing her up inside because she’ll never be able to truly bare her soul to you if she’s still in her relationship.

Another thing weighing on her mind is how close she came to losing you today. Hearing how wounded you were by the fact that she didn’t really and truly belong to you, that you’re constantly forced to watch the girl you love with your best friend. She’s always so wrapped up in her guilt toward John B that she failed to notice that the guilt and pain were taking its toll on you too.

So she has to buck up. If she doesn’t, then she’ll lose you for good.

i always knew from the beginning

the whole damn time, it’s you that i was feelin’ 

seems like things are better when forbidden 

and that’s why i hate that

i hate that you ain’t your best friend

The next day, you’re still in a grumpy mood. You showered last night upon coming home, and you’ve been glued to your bed ever since. You roll your eyes as Jenny from Gossip Girl whines to her father Rufus about quitting school, and suddenly, you hear a knock on your front door. You let out a groan, dramatically rolling out of bed and making your way down to tell whoever’s choosing to bother you right now to fuck off. But when you open the door, you come face to face with the girl you love.

There she is, standing in the pouring rain, her clothes wholly drenched and her hair sticking to the sides of her face. 

“Sarah? Come inside, you’re going to get pneumonia,” you say. Your fingers circle her wrist and you tug her into your warm home. Your hands rub her arms up and down as you try to warm her up. You can practically hear her teeth chattering as her cold body trembles. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I needed to talk to you,” she murmurs.

“And you couldn’t have called me? The roads are crazy, and this storm is supposed to be the worst one of the year.”

“I love you.”

Sarah blurts it out so fast that you think you’re dreaming. 

“I— What?”

She tucks a wet clump of strands behind her ear, before grabbing both of your hands into hers. Her thumbs run over your knuckles as she searches for the courage to look at you again.

“You’re the reason I was with John B in the first place. I…I wanted to be close to you, anyway I could, because I thought that you were never going to make your move. You could never say how you felt about me, and then John B did, and I figured…this would be the only way to stay close to you. But I love you, Y/N. Not him.” 

Your eyes are welling with tears, and you smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, her own lips curling up as she watches your eyes sparkle. “It was never him. It was always you.”

You use your intertwined hands to pull her closer. “You better kiss me, then.”

And she does.

sarah tag list (join here!): @maybanksbabe @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @urbestieboo @surftrips

[whiskersz]

Hihi I got a one shot request!! Vox x Reader where reader takes charge of date night! I feel like everyone headcanons, rightfully so btw, that Vox is 100% a fancy expensive restaurant for every date kind of guy. Maybe Reader takes care of date night for a change, opting for something more simple and comfortable over expensive clothing and expensive food. Fluff!!! I love the fluff (*≧∀≦*)

Hello there! Writing this was so fun, I might've not made it fluffy enough so feel free to tell me to change stuff or request something similar next time. Tried to make Reader as GN as possible too!

Have a nice time reading ^_^

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Vox x Reader - CEO of a Good Time

The moon shined brightly outside of the V Tower, its rays illuminating the rooms of the headquarters a bright red; you stared at your own reflection in the mirror of your room, the color of the pretty yet conservative outfit you were wearing contrasting against the red coming from the large window behind you.

A quick glance at your phone informed you that it was almost time to head out, so you grabbed your belongings and made your way towards the door. Opening it revealed the tall figure of your boyfriend, dressed in a dark blue striped suit with a touch of red from the tie neatly tucked into his blazer. You had told him to dress comfortable, and well, if this was his definition of that you couldn’t judge him, really.

A relaxed smile on his TV screen, he lowered the hand that was hanging in mid-air, ready to knock on your door;

“Oh, ready at the same time.” He pointed out, “I assume it’s time to get on our limousine then?”

You chuckled, linking your arm with his and walking towards the elevator.

“No silly, we’re driving there. It’s not that far anyways.”           

From the corner of your eye you could see Vox blink, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Still, for you he was willing to show his more gentlemanly side.

“Ah, I see...then let me drive.”

Once in the elevator you pressed the button supposed to lead you to the ground floor, opting to not say goodbye to the other Vee’s; Velvette was probably busy anyways, and Valentino...well, your dislike of him was apparent to everyone in the tower. Plus this was supposed to be a night for you and Vox alone, and a very special one at that since your boyfriend had allowed you to choose everything about it: the location, how to get there and what to do afterwards.

You set Vox’s arm free once you two reached the garages, letting him retrieve his black Pontiac Chieftain; he took the time to walk over to your side of the car and open your door, and once you were both inside he entrusted you his phone.

“Set the location to where you want us to go, hot stuff.”

“Gladly, princess.”

Vox glitched, choking on his own saliva.

“Told you not to call me that...”

“Yeah, in public!” you let out a chuckle, fiddling around with his phone.

Once the location was successfully set you placed it in your lap, as this car wasn’t equipped with a phone holder. Vox groaned as you blew him a kiss, and started driving and following the directions of the GPS.

---

The pizzeria you had chosen was humble, certainly not a place that Vox would’ve chosen had he been in charge that night. It was located in a cute little alleyway – well, as cute as those can be in Hell – so Vox struggled for a bit before he could find a parking space. When he did though, he once again made the effort to open your car door, earning a little kiss from you.

“I’ll trust that you’ve already been here and tasted the food, at least?” he questioned as you began walking towards your destination.

“Oh, don’t be so distrustful. My friends speak very well of this place!”

Saying the entrance was surrounded by LED lights would be an understatement; arrows pointing at the door and pizza-shaped lights almost blinded you, reflecting the light off of your boyfriend’s screen.

Once inside though, the pleasant smell of pizza immediately reached your nostrils and you were met with a quiet buzz typical of small taverns like this one. As your eyes adjusted to the dim orange lights, the owner themselves welcomed you.

“Greetings, greetings! We’re very pleased to serve a couple as grandiose as you!” She bowed, recognizing you and Vox. She then referred to you; “A table for two, like you said?”

“Yes please, and thank you!” you replied politely, letting her lead you to a square little table near the fireplace like you had asked earlier on the phone. Vox hesitantly followed the two of you, his gaze falling on the Imps sat at the other tables staring curiously, probably surprised that a couple such as you and your boyfriend would choose a place like this for a night out.

You sat down in front of each other as the owner of the pizzeria promised that a waiter would’ve been at your service in just a few minutes, and handed you two menus to choose your pizzas from.

“What are you going for?” you asked absentmindedly, scanning through the options.

“Well, I’d rather play it safe and get a Margherita, since we’ve never been here and all.”

You both ended up choosing your own pizza and letting it know to the waiter as they brought you breadsticks as an appetizer.

You stared at the flames flickering, the relaxing atmosphere of the pizzeria and the warm temperature embracing you like a fuzzy blanket. You think you would’ve fallen asleep if Vox hadn’t tapped his finger on the wooden table.

“Don’t sleep, the pizzas will be here soon.” He reminded you almost gently.

“I’m not sleeping, just resting. Isn’t this a nice change from the usual busy rich people restaurant?” you quickly realized what you said, stumbling on your own words as your boyfriend raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Not that I don’t appreciate it when you organize dates, it’s all very sweet...but this is cute, no?”

Vox scanned your face, your gentle smile and soft cheeks illuminated by the fireplace’s light almost making him short circuit. He cleared his throat and awkwardly adjusted his tie when he realized that he had been staring for a bit too long without offering you a reply;

“Ah, yes, it’s not...as bad as I thought it would be, how did you find this place again? Your friends?”

You explained that, while you were usually busy working at the V Tower, your friends had a little more time on their hands, so from time to time they’d organize little hang outs with each other in places they didn’t know. Vox focused on the first part of your sentence: you didn’t have much time to hang out with your friends. He’d make sure that this changed once back at the tower, or at least he was going to let you choose where to go a little more often than usual.

He listened as you complimented the ambience of the place, and took a moment to admire it himself, ignoring the curious gazes of the other demons sat around you. Maybe it was a nice change, especially seeing you this happy, yeah.

The pizzas arrived soon, the waiter placing a candle at the centre of your table.

“Romantic!” you commented, “Vox, take a picture!”

Vox did as you told him to, ignoring the notifications on his phone and concentrating on shooting the perfect picture of you, even telling you to strike different poses. When he did so you raised your eyebrows, your mouth slightly agape.

“What? Got something on my screen?” he asked, switching to front camera to check for stains.

“No, it’s just...you usually say you need to check your notifications and all first, so I was a little surprised is all.”

He stopped admiring himself and refocused his attention on you;

“...Oh. Well, can’t really be an asshole all the time I guess,” he smirked, taking a surprise picture of you. You barely restrained yourself from yelling at him for that – jokingly, of course – and instead opted for stealing his phone and deleting it immediately as he laughed.

The pizzas were delicious, both you and Vox practically devoured them and even offered the other a slice of each other’s pizza. He also decided not to order alcohol as he was supposed to drive you both back, and drinking is never a good idea in these cases.

He led you back to his car, an arm draped across the small of your back protectively as you passed various groups of ill-intentioned individuals; it was late at night when you left the pizzeria, after all.

This time you ran forward a little, opening the car door on the passenger’s side for him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-“

“After you, sweetheart.” You teased, a smug smile plastered on your face. He rolled his eyes, taking you by the hand and letting you sit instead. “Aw, boring. I thought I was the one in charge tonight.”

“Maybe next time I’ll consider your strange proposals.” He said, walking to the other side of the car. Before he could start it you placed your hand on his, making him turn towards you.

“Thanks for...indulging in this. Next time the lead’s all yours.” You said sincerely. He smirked at you, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

“Nah, I can handle a little change.”

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 25: Balance

You and Joel prepare to leave Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-24 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Just angst because... it's me. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 4.9k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel was true to his word. It was two weeks before you saw him again. 

Of course, you helped out a bit. You barely left the house, going to the stables and back and to grab food for the day from the mess hall when you knew it would be dead. Otherwise, you stayed home, usually drinking until you passed out and sobering up just enough to do your job effectively the next day.  

But none of that stopped you from seeing Joel in everything. 

The guitar glared at you from its spot in the corner of the living room. You wished Joel had kept it so it wasn’t haunting you. It was hard not playing it. Everything in your life that had ever hurt you or frustrated you or made you feel passionately in any way, you’d always worked out through music. But when you’d picked up the instrument for the first time since you’d left, holding it delicately and cautiously in your hands, all you felt was Joel. Sitting against him while playing or singing, writing music for him so the love you had for him was going somewhere instead of struggling to be contained within yourself, how it felt when it was him in your arms and not the guitar. You managed to play two chords before it felt like you were choking and you put it down again. 

You weren’t sure what to do with any of what you were feeling, of the fear twisted up with longing and love that tangled with loathing. 

It would have been easier if you’d never known. You wished you didn’t know. You’d never truly understood the term “ignorance is bliss” until now, you’d always preferred knowing things. Knowing had certainty to it, you liked to understand. Now, you longed for the time before, when Joel was so far from the worst things that had happened to you that you’d never link him to it at all. 

It would be easier, too, if Joel had done something to you. You were mad and afraid and felt like you were about to fall apart and burst into tears at every second of every day and, in so many ways, you couldn’t put your finger on why. Because, really, nothing had changed. He’d always been that person, always been someone who, once upon a time, had been a raider. You’d loved that person. Still loved that person. He hadn’t done anything to you to make you afraid, hadn’t forced himself on you, hadn’t raised a hand or even his voice to you. Joel had been nothing but caring and loving. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done. How he’d have done it to you, too, back then. 

You weren’t sure if the distance was helping or hurting. It hadn’t made you stop thinking about it. You knew what you were doing wasn’t healthy. You’d cut yourself off from not just Joel but the whole of the town. You’d come to implicitly trust the people here because you’d come to trust Joel. But if you couldn’t trust him to be what you thought, how could you trust anyone else here? Any of them could be someone who would hurt you and it was best to stay away from all of them. 

Even Ellie had stayed away after your confrontation in Joel’s yard. You’d tried to talk to her once but she just glared at you before stalking off. It was two weeks before she spoke to you again, coming by the stables dressed to leave Jackson. You frowned, looking her up and down. 

“Where are you running off to, kid?”

“What, stopped checking the patrol schedule, too?” She snapped. “I’m starting to go out in a few weeks, so I’m training today. With Joel. He asked me to get his horse, too.” 

You just nodded and got Joel’s horse saddled up while Ellie worked on Shimmer, her shooting you glares every few minutes. 

“You done the shooting test?” You asked, looking at her over the back of Sergeant. “Feeling good about it?” 

“What, going to act like you care?” She muttered, strapping her bag to Shimmer. 

“Of course I care,” you frowned. “Ellie…” 

“Whatever, Bambi.” 

She grabbed Sergeant’s reins from you and stalked off. You stayed late at the stable that night instead of handing the returns off to Olivia, hoping you’d get a chance to talk to her again when  she got back to town. 

You hadn’t expected Joel to also come into the stable. 

He froze when he saw you there, your hands shoved into your pockets as you watched him carefully. 

“Sorry,” he said after a moment. “Didn’t think… I figured it’d be Olivia… I can…” 

“It’s fine,” you said quickly. He just nodded and started unsaddling his horse. You approached cautiously from the other side and started taking Sergeant’s bridle off. “How’d it go with Ellie?” 

“Good,” he smiled a little. It looked like he hadn’t done that in a while. “She’s always been smart and capable, she’ll do a damn good job on patrol.” 

“Infected better watch out for her,” you smiled a bit back. 

Joel was quiet for a moment, focused on the horse, but you felt his eyes on you every few seconds. 

“You doin’ OK?” He asked eventually. “Getting enough to eat, all that?” 

“Sure,” you shrugged, glancing up at him. “You?” 

“Fine,” he said quickly. 

You nodded. 

“That’s good.” 

“Yeah.” 

The tack off, you started guiding Sergeant back to his stall, giving Joel a tight smile. He turned to leave but stopped near the door, looking back at you.

“Ellie keeps askin’…” he trailed off. “Think she wants someone to blame and I’ve tried telling her it’s my fault but she wants more of an explanation than that and…” 

He sighed. 

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” you said after a moment. “But… stop blaming yourself for this, please. And please don’t try to make yourself the bad guy, it won’t help anything. You didn’t… neither of you did well when you were apart. Don’t try to give her a reason to be mad at you again.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Don’t know what it’s OK to tell her,” he said, barely looking at you. “A lot of this ain’t my shit to tell, Sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t, and…” 

“I’ll leave it up to you,” you cut him off. “Tell her whatever you think needs to be told, it’s OK. I think we owe her some kind of explanation but please, don’t ask me to give it to her. If it hurts things between you two… I don’t think I could handle that right now. She’s your daughter, you know what she needs better than I do. I’ll be OK with it.” 

He nodded slowly, looking you up and down, his eyes deep and gentle and in pain. You hated seeing him in pain. 

“It’s good to see you,” he said. “Always good to see you.” 

You weren’t sure what to say back. But he didn’t make you come up with anything, just giving you a small nod and heading out on his way. 

Ellie came in not long after, steadfastly ignoring you as she got Shimmer out of her tack. You helped, staying on the other side of the horse from her as the two of you worked wordlessly in tandem.

“Joel said you did good,” you said eventually. 

“Oh, so the two of you are talking now?” She snapped. “News to me.” 

“I’m not surprised that you did good,” you said, ignoring her tone. “Something tells me you know your way around a rifle just fine and I know you’re good on a horse…” 

“Are you ever going to tell me what the fuck happened?” She demanded, the blanket from Shimmer’s back draped over her arms. “Because I thought we were a family and…” 

“We are family, Ellie.” 

“Are we?” She asked. “Because I thought family told each other shit and you and Joel haven’t told me a fucking thing!” 

“Ask Joel…”

“You think I haven’t?” She got in your face. “Because…” 

“Ask him again,” you said gently. She opened her mouth to argue but you gave her a look and she was quiet. “We talked. Ask him again, he’ll tell you. Maybe give him a day but…” 

“And, what, you can’t tell me?” She asked brows raised. 

“He’s your dad, Kid,” you said. “Should hear it from him, not me.” 

She looked at you, her jaw tense, and then stalked off. You signed, pressing your forehead to Shimmer’s neck. 

“What am I going to do?” You asked her quietly. She huffed and you gave her a scratch before sighing again. “Yeah, I don’t know either.” 

You got the horses settled before walking the long way back to your house. You passed Joel’s for the first time in weeks, the lights on in his front windows. Part of you wanted to go on his porch, knock on his door, and bask in the glow of it. You wanted to feel warm and safe and you remembered feeling that way in that space before. You just weren’t sure that you could now. 

You went home and poured yourself a glass of whiskey instead. 

You were starting to feel the liquor and had moved to the closet, tucking your legs under the blanket and leaning back against the wall, when there was a knock at your door. You frowned and set the whiskey down before going to find Ellie standing at your front door, her hands shoved tightly into the pockets of her jacket. You frowned and opened the door. 

“Hey kiddo, what…” 

She looked at you for a moment, eyes misty, before she threw her arms around your neck and more slammed into you than really hugged you. You caught her, anyway, holding on to her, loosely at first before holding her close. 

“You OK?” You asked, running a hand up and down her back. 

“Talked to Joel,” her voice was muffled by your shirt before she gave you a squeeze and pulled away from you. “He told me what happened…” 

You froze for a moment and she squeezed you tighter.

“Want to come in?” You asked. She nodded and you stepped aside, letting her in. 

You locked the door behind her and found her pacing your living room, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans this time. You watched her for a moment before she came to a stop, her avoiding looking directly at you for a moment. 

“Want to talk about it?” You asked eventually. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked hurt. “I didn’t know about any of that, you never told me…” 

“What did Joel say?” You asked gently. 

Ellie looked away from you, tightening her jaw and you crossed your arms protectively over yourself. 

“That you were held by raiders for years,” she said. You nodded slowly and she looked back at you. “He didn’t tell me details or shit but… I’m not an idiot, I can guess. But you didn’t tell me.” 

You shrugged. 

“Not exactly what I like talking about,” you said. “And you’re a kid.” 

“I’m 18.” 

“Yeah, a kid,” you repeated. “It’s not your job to look out for me, it’s my job to look out for you.” 

“Joel said you found out about what he did before,” she said. You tightened your jaw but nodded. “It probably doesn’t help but he’s not a bad person, Bambi, he thinks he is but he’s not and…” 

“I know he’s not,” you cut her off, even though there was a tightness in your chest at that. “I just… there are things I can’t handle right now and I can’t handle him. I wish I could, I really do but I can’t and…” 

The pinch of tears threatened to spill over and you closed your eyes for a second. 

“Hey.” 

You opened your eyes again and looked at Ellie, a few tears falling anyway. 

“I’m really sorry,” she said quietly. “For what they did to you. And that I… I was a dick and…” 

You laughed a little. 

“You weren’t a dick,” you said. “You were hurt, it’s OK.”  

She just looked at you for a moment. 

“Can I help?” She asked eventually. 

“You can keep an eye on Joel,” you said quietly. “Make sure he’s taking care of himself…” 

“I can do that,” she said. “But… can I stay here tonight?” 

You frowned but she didn’t give you a chance to speak. 

“I’m not like… picking sides or whatever…” 

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you said. “And even if you did, you should pick Joel.” 

“I just would feel better sleeping over here,” she ignored you. “If that’s OK.” 

You tried to keep from fully crying. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice thick anyway. “Yeah, that’s OK.” 

She curled up next to you and it reminded you so much of Savvy it made your heart ache. How, even as she got older, if she’d had a bad dream or just a bad day, she’d tuck herself against your body and you’d hold her close, a living, breathing reminder of why you fought so hard to live in the first place. Why all of this was worth it. 

Things were easier once Ellie understood. You hadn’t fully realized how alone you’d felt without her. You’d told yourself that you were fine being by yourself - it had been just you and your daughter for so long, being without people seemed like it should be OK. But you’d been so alone that it had started to rot you from the inside out. 

Losing Joel and Ellie the way you did had knocked you back almost to where you started in Jackson. You were jumpier than you’d been in months, body perpetually tense to the point of exhaustion. You’d steadily lost interest in doing much of anything, only going to the stables because your sense of obligation to the animals. The pull of the guitar and violin faded once it was clear that playing was more painful than not, to the point that you barely glanced at them anymore. The stereo was quiet. The books gathered dust and so did you.

It was Ellie that started tugging you back to life again. 

You saw her briefly at the stable the next day and you were trying to figure out a way to spend more time with her when, the day after, she showed up at your door, her small fist pounding on the glass in her distinctly Ellie way. 

“So I have a question,” she said, not bothering with any formalities as she pushed past you into your house. You laughed a little, feeling lighter with it. Ellie was still Ellie. 

“About?” You asked, following her to your living room. She plunked her backpack down on the couch and started rifling through it until she found a CD case and held it out to you. 

“Joel really likes that CD,” she said as you took it, ignoring the tightness in your stomach at the sound of his name. 

“He does,” you said, looking at it. “Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Classic album, American Girl is one of those all time greats…” 

“Right,” she said. “I want to learn how to play it.” 

You looked up from the CD and raised your eyebrows at her. 

“You want to learn a Mike Campbell guitar part.” 

Ellie shrugged. 

“I don’t know who the fuck that is but yes. I do. Can you teach me?” 

You sighed a little. 

“I’m not exactly a music teacher, kid,” you looked at the CD. “And I don’t think we’ve got the sheet music just lyin’ around…” 

“Nope,” she said. “But can you do it? 

“I mean….” You sighed again, thumb tracing the edge of the plastic case. “Yeah, I can figure out the chords from what I hear and then write that down but…” 

“I think it’ll help,” she said. 

“With?” You raised your brows at her. 

“Joel.” 

You nodded slowly, looking off in the direction of his house, a hollow ache in your chest alongside the thrum of fear up your spine. 

“He’s not playing anymore,” Ellie said. “He’s not doing much of anything anymore. He’s doing his job and shit and he’s checking in on me and Tommy but that’s it. He’s not even giving me shit about the puns anymore and believe me, I’ve tried. But, I bet if I could play that? He’d play with me.” 

You kept looking toward his house, even though you couldn’t see it. You didn’t want him to be hurting, didn’t want him to be alone. You might not be in a place to spend time with him but this you could do. 

“OK,” you said, going to the stereo and putting the CD in before grabbing a notebook and a pencil. “Hope you like this song, kid, you’re going to be hearing it a lot.” 

You sat on the couch, pressed play on the remote, and tried not to think about Joel. 

***

“The best window is that soon?” Joel frowned down at his plate, more pushing the food around than really eating it. 

“Think so,” Tommy said. “In two days, we’ll have all the patrols back, we’ll have a big enough window that we can afford to be down some horses, we’ve stayed above freezing long enough. This is the best shot you’re gonna get for the next month.” 

Joel nodded and sighed. He hadn’t talked to you about this in a few weeks, going this soon felt like springing it on you. Not that he thought you wouldn’t want to go searching for your daughter the second you were able. You just wouldn’t want to do it with him. 

“We’ll be ready,” Joel said. 

“You ever gonna tell me what any of this shit has been about?” Tommy asked, brows raised. “You two are practically married one minute, not speaking the next, then lookin’ to leave town for weeks on end?” 

Joel just shrugged. He didn’t feel like telling Tommy about it. He didn’t feel like telling anyone about it. 

He’d explained it to Ellie and that had been hard enough, his stomach nauseatingly tight as he spoke to her. The whole time it felt like he was on the verge of losing his daughter again, the look of horror on her face speaking for itself. It shocked Joel when she hugged him and cried on his shirt, like she pitied him, too. He was half afraid that he wouldn’t see her anymore, that it would go back to how it was before you came to Jackson, when she left to find you. But she came back. She kept coming back, finding some excuse to see him every day. He wasn’t about to argue, even though he didn’t want her feeling responsible for his wellbeing. It meant he got to see her and she was always happy to supply news of how you were doing. It would be all but impossible for him to tell her that it was OK, she didn’t need to keep checking up on him, she could just live her life. He just added the guilt of that to everything else. 

“Well, I hope you figure it out,” Tommy said when it was obvious Joel wasn’t going to add to the conversation. “And I hope she’s doing OK. One of you should be.” 

Joel went by the stables on the way home, both hoping you were there but dreading the look on your face when you saw him. But the moment he saw you was a relief. Your back was to him but he was pretty sure he’d recognize just the top of your head if he saw you in a crowd you were so ingrained in him. You were brushing down a horse, speaking in your soft and gentle way to it. He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the sounds of you, before he awkwardly cleared his throat. You jumped and spun, brush clutched tight in your hand, eyes all wide and doe-like. You relaxed ever so slightly when you realized it was Joel. 

“Sorry,” he said, lifting his hands to prove that he wasn’t a threat. God, he hoped you knew he was never a threat, not to you. “Wasn’t tryin’ to scare you…” 

“It’s OK,” you said. “What… what do you need?” 

You. 

He didn’t say that. 

“Talked to Tommy tonight,” he said. “Know it’s short notice but… sounds like us leavin’ in two days is going to be the best window. It’s been warm enough for the past two weeks they think it’s safe for us to go this month and that’s the best time with how patrols are set…” 

You nodded slowly, not looking at him. He pressed on. 

“We can wait…” 

“No,” you said quickly. “No, I want to go as soon as we can, I can be ready, I can, I want…” 

“OK,” he said gently, before you got too worked up. “OK, two days. We’ll go.” 

You nodded again, quicker this time. 

“I’ll meet you here that morning,” he said. Your eyes met his for the first time in what felt like an eternity. They were deep and soft and he wanted to drown in you so badly. “We’re going to find her, Bambi. You’re not on your own in this. We’ll bring her home.” 

Your eyes got teary and you took a shaky breath. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you said softly. He loved the sound of his name on your voice, even if it was thick and sad. 

He went home, trying to figure out ways to make the next few weeks as easy on you as possible. Ellie came by and he told her that the two of you were going to be leaving Jackson, but only for a few weeks. He hadn’t told her about your daughter. He was able to explain what had happened between the two of you without that part of it and, if you’d wanted to keep her to yourself until now, he didn’t feel right telling Ellie about her. She seemed confused but took it better than he’d expected. He almost smiled at it. She really was different from the girl he’d brought here years ago, a girl who would have railed against being left out of anything at all. She’d grown into herself, grown more secure and confident. And into more of a smartass but that, given that it was Ellie, was to be expected. 

When she left for the night, he did what he always did. He watched Ellie retreat to the little outbuilding in his yard - she’d slept at his house for a week after he’d brought you back, like she didn’t trust him to be on his own - and made himself a cup of tea. He never bothered to sit down to drink it, instead leaning against the kitchen counter and staring into space. He tried not to think about standing between your legs as you perched next to the stove, kissing you as your arms were around his neck and you smiled against his lips. 

He went upstairs and got changed, brushed his teeth, stared at his bed for a moment. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, he couldn’t bring himself to even sit on it now, he knew better than to think he could rest there. He’d last been in that bed with you. He didn’t think he could handle being in it alone.

Instead, he went back downstairs and turned on the stereo, turning the lights out and making sure the volume was still down low. He made sure the tape was rewound before going to the couch and settling in, pressing play on the remote. 

“Hey Joel.” He closed his eyes and tried to tune out the crackle of the tape so he could pretend you were there, close enough to touch. “I’ve kind of been wishing I was better with words since I’ve known you…”

He clung to the end of the tape, the soft comfort of your voice. 

“Hope you know how much I love you. Because I do. Always will.”

He had no idea how he was going to survive traveling with you. But he would figure it out. He owed you that much, at least. He rewound the tape and started it over, doing it again and again until he drifted off to the sound of your voice.

You beat him to the stables the morning you were set to leave Jackson. You were wearing the shirt you’d been in when he first found you in the forest, your hair tightly braided to your head and your cowboy hat dangling down your back from the string at your neck. He was going to announce himself but you must have sensed him come in, looking over your shoulder at him. It didn’t look like you’d been sleeping much, dark circles heavy below your eyes, and he still wasn’t sure if you were actually eating. You seemed smaller and more fragile now. But it wasn’t his business to ask. You weren’t his business now. He wasn’t sure he’d ever abide by that.

“Morning,” he said, throat tight. 

“Morning,” you gave him a nod. “I wasn’t sure who you’d want to take out so I haven’t started getting yours set up… I figured Sergeant or Ares but…” 

“Ares, I think,” he said. He wanted to be on a horse you’d trained. It seemed right. “But I got it.” 

You gave him a nod and focused on your horse again, looking his way every minute or so before your eyes darted away again. 

“Ready?” He asked eventually. 

“Yeah,” you replied, mounting up and squaring your jaw. “Let’s go.” 

Joel let you set the pace, both to get out of town and once you were through the gates, riding into the rising sun. 

It was different, being out of town with you like this. He’d become so accustomed to the easy cadence of patrolling with you that this was like a foreign land. You were tense, eyes darting, everything about you on high alert. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were looking for something - anything - that would you point you in the right direction or if it was because of him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

“Bambi,” he said gently as the sun got high. It was the first word that either of you had spoken in hours. “Should think about taking a break for a bit, give the horses a rest, figure out where we want to get to tonight.” 

“But…” you looked over at him, eyes wide and desperate for a moment before you sighed. “No, you’re right.”

“There’s a stream not far,” he nodded in the direction. “Stop there, give the horses a chance to get some water.” 

You nodded and gave Joel room to take the lead. 

He found a good place to rest by the water, both Renaissance and Ares bending to drink while you opened your pack. You found jerky and offered it to him, arm held far away from your body as you did. He took it, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours, making you flinch for a moment but you didn’t take your hand back. 

“So,” Joel said after he couldn’t take the quiet anymore. “What… what have you been up to?” 

You shrugged. 

“Working with the fillies and the colt,” you said. “Hoping I can get them well broke pretty quick, just so we don’t end up in the same situation we were in last year before we can foal some more.” 

Joel nodded. 

“Anything outside of that?” He asked. “Playin’ anything good or…” 

“Haven’t been playing,” you cut him off, staring straight at the water. 

He frowned. 

“Bambi…” 

“Haven’t felt like it.” 

He watched you for a moment, the tension in your neck and jaw, your fingers clenching and unclenching. 

“You should play,” he said. You glared at him but he kept going. “You’re a musician, that’s part of who you are. You should… should try, at least.” 

You looked at him for a moment. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Maybe… Maybe I will.” 

You picked the route to pursue after lunch and Joel had you take the lead again, happy to follow you wherever you wanted to go. The sky was starting to turn pink and orange when you stopped for the day, cutting into the trees off the closest thing there was to a beaten path. Not that they’d seen any signs of people or infected. If it were a patrol, he’d think it was lucky. But since they were looking for someone, not so much. 

You rolled out your sleeping bag far from him, something that made his heart ache. He thought, for a moment, about inviting you closer, but decided against it. 

“Goodnight, Joel,” you said. 

He paused, surprised you’d said anything at all. 

“Goodnight, Bambi.” 

He watched you in the dim light of the moon filtering down through the leaves, knowing this was the closest he’d been to you in weeks but, somehow, never feeling further away. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I am SO SO SORRY for the absolutely bonkers long wait between chapters on this, Besties. Between the time away for my trip back to my hometown for the first time in five years and playing hold catchup this week, I've just been underwater.

ANYWHO I don't know that this chapter was worth the wait? But It is setting up for some really big stuff happening the next few chapters.

Thank you thank you thank you for your patience and for reading and spending your time with me. I appreciate it more than you know!

Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

[unfortunately-obsessed]

My Love Will Never Die

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader. Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, burnout, established relationship. Title based off a Hozier's song. Ao3 link.

Summary:

« You've done me wrong for a long, long time. But after all you've done, I never changed my mind. »

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly. You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only mentally. Your muscles ache, pain spiking up on your lower back worse than any damage a sharpened knife could cause. Feet so thoroughly hurt by heels they're numb, if not for the casual sharp sting.

It is Gotham. The sky is grey, the city sucks up you out of life each passing moment.

Rain splatters against your umbrella. You stand just before the front door of Wayne Manor, mindlessly fidgeting with the wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.

One year. You've been married with Bruce Wayne for one year already? Doesn't feel like it.

Time flew before your eyes, the start of it all just below your eyelids. Every first so toothachingly sweet, burned into your brain. Press nails against skin until it sharpens.

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly.

You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

Not worthy of the surname Wayne, to be called “lady of the house”.

Time is a cruel kind of lesson.

"Ms. Wayne." Alfred's voice, invariably courteous, calls. You almost wince at the door opening. He stands before you, maybe a little unnerved by your state, but if it's displeasure or worry on his face, you can't tell.

He masks terrifically well. You're always alarmed by this.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

At that, you do wince.

"Yes, Alfred." Your brain haven't even processed his presence yet when you walk past him. He takes your coat and bag. "Just got lost in thoughts for a moment."

"Pondering the mysteries of our universe at the front step?" Ah, you do love the edge of sass in his voice. You meet his eyes, a shy-like (unlike you) smile cursing your face. "Shall I fetch for tea? Supper will be served in one hour's time."

Some months ago, you might have looked forward for it. If Bruce couldn't welcome you after work, he at least would make sure to eat dinner with you.

Deep in your stomach, rot. You swallow dry.

"No, thanks," you say, taking a deep breath. Desperately– desperately talking through the knot in your throat. "I just want to hit the showers and sleep," you say, all sincerity.

You smile politely. He doesn't pushes you.

It is easy to backslide. To make oneself likeable, less volatile, more agreeable. Until you can earn love and care.

(Oh. It's getting bad again.)

"And Bruce?" You ask halfway through up the stairs, despite yourself. My love for you is bigger than words. I search for you everywhere.

The silence that hangs would be enough of an answer. Alfred is merciful, though. "Still working, ma'am."

Isn't it painful? Loving someone just from outside their life?

Wayne Manor is a haunted house. Constantly burning, touching the skies with horrible black smoke. Sculpted coffered ceilings, furniture of expensive dark wood. Bristol, yet you can see the city and all its skyscrapers by the right window.

Wayne Manor, aka Bruce Wayne's first grave.

Every corner, a memory.

"Of course," you mutter to yourself, emotion pooling in the eyes.

Love is about the failure of language, so you fall silent and disappear into the halls.

~*~*~

The sheets are clean like you know they would be.

Heels are the first to go. You kick them off, grumbling in satisfaction. Earrings next, then lipstick messily scrubbed off in any sheet of paper.

Hairpin and belt lost to the ground. Bra? Disappeared.

Yet, despite being absolutely exhausted, you stop just before the bed. Ice at the nape of your neck like a garrote, a promise. Knot in your throat to hang on.

King-sized, silk sheets, cloud soft. Each breath is a stutter of a muscle, the blood running in your veins a statement that you are, in fact, alive.

Isn't it such a lousy fear? The fear to sleep and have yet another nightmare. Oh, to be worn out mind and body and still unable to touch a bed.

The sheets are clean, white-pure. Sours you mouth.

Messy and childish fear. To see the future, where he dies by your feet using the damned cowl. Feats unnamed, life unhonoured.

Death smiles to Batman.

(Ah, Bruce. I would break my own fingers for you. Tear the tongue out of my mouth.

But there are limits.)

You can't even remember half those nightmares. Hands shaking, clattered flesh, de-boned corpses–

You don't want to ruin the sheets. You don't want to ruin your life.

~*~*~

It might be 5am.

He nuzzles against your neck, breath hot and exhausted, chest to your back. Skin painted with purple and red, scar-tissue mapping constellations, saying eat.

Eat you do. Bite one step removed, soft-mouthed kissing blue veins and rough hands. Until you lips become raw and numb.

His weight sinks the mattress, acting like a gravitational pull. Bruce's body, which furnaces can't compare, protectively embraces you.

He's so warm. It's 5am and you both are lying together, legs intertwined, his face buried on your shoulder. You listen to his breathing, slow and controlled, in the comforting quiet of unrealized-hours.

I wish the past had been kinder on you. How the world is cruel and how you refuse to be.

Soft sunlight hums through the damasked curtains, birds start to sing. You are wide awake, and he is too.

You'd seen him die down in your mind, every night. He lives your nightmares, putting on the suit. You're not bound to him by fate, not a soulmate, with no divine intervention; hallowed by gums aching and reverence– that is to say: the door is open, you can walk away.

Because one day, he won't come back.

You know it. He knows it. He has the arrangements prepared for the occasion.

And nowadays, he can't afford to leave the cave if not for going downtown.

The life of a hero is very unthankful.

"Do you hate me?" he asks you, voice rough to be an knife's edge. It's been long enough since you last felt him this close, low in your ear.

Bruce assures you through touch. Calloused thumb rubbing your wrist. Affections ebbs in his palms, love even. A work in progress.

In all your inner turmoil, you can see yourself getting quite tired of it all. The late nights crawling up walls, knowing he won't come back until morning– the stitching of wounds, his blood in the Persian rugs– but to imagine oneself as his enemy? As in, hating him?

"No," you murmur in a steady heartbeat. A detour cross your mind, of eustress: he gets tired too. And, then you say for good measure, "Never."

People don't really think how tiring tragic the life of a hero is. But there's this exhilarating moment where all that exists is Bruce's breath in your skin.

"Do you love me?" he asks because he can't take any chances. Oh, you can bet a kid that grew up traumatized will need reassurance. Constant, gentle reassurance.

White stripes of scars in his knuckles and forearms below your fingertips, drawing into your memory again and again.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only physically. But he tugs with your heartstrings everyday, bruised like he'd been squeezing it. The more it lingers more you realize you've been packing up emotions for weeks, now.

"What a silly thing to ask," you say. Not an answer. Neither are breathing for a second, there. You teeth clatter like a damn trying to bust.

Ah! There's a lot of messed up stuff happening all the time. You coil in yourself, perhaps considering. Bruce's touch shudders.

And there is something to realize. You'd rather die drowning for love than in thirst of it. Repeat to yourself, to him, I will never leave you. In healthiness and sickness–

"On purpose. Always–"

Love, who is brutal, who is stored in the viscera–

"–I love you."

A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!

[look-at-the-soul]

Always with me

(Modern)Tommy Shelby x reader (+Grandma) 👵🏻

Hello beautiful people! Hoping you’re doing well 💞 It took me so long to finish this little story because for some reason I kept thinking it needed something else but couldn’t find what it was, then one day I thought this is it, don’t force it, the main point it’s there… sometimes less is more or so they say. Either way, I hope you like this!

Just to let you know this is part of a series of stories (not linked between them) about my Grandma’s series to honor one of the persons who had the biggest impact in my life and I recently lost. This is a small tribute and a way to cope with her not being around anymore.

Grief and sadness is mentioned but as usual I compensate with fluff and happiness ❤️‍🩹 thank you for your endless support, it means so much.

Word count: 3,602

✨ Inspired by Westlife song “Always with me”

They say that time can heal a broken heart

But I just don't know how this could be true

Everyday I see a picture on my wall

My heart is broken into two

Tommy poured two glasses of wine and headed to the couch, next to his girlfriend. She had been staring absently at the fire flames flicking before her eyes, she didn’t even notice when Frances asked if they wanted something for dinner. But he already knew the answer, it was one of those moments when Y/N’s mind wandered back in time to some memory with her grandmother.

Her energy felt so low, the sadness in her eyes made him feel hopeless, and with the holidays around the corner he knew it wouldn’t help to lift her up, as he knew the days meant so much for her. If only he could find a way to make her focus on something else, a distraction.

His eyes fixed on her features as she brought the glass to her mouth.

“You’re wearing lipstick.” He noticed a subtle tone.

A ridiculous suggestion he made when Y/N asked how to get back on track. Try to focus in small things, the finest details you used to do without even thinking about it. Like using your favorite lipstick, he had said back then.

The glimpse of a smile formed on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes, so taking both glasses he placed them on the table to then pass an arm behind Y/N’s neck to bring her closer.

“I know it’s not been easy for you, but take your time to heal… it’s okay to not being okay.”

His fingers massaged gently her scalp and Tommy felt Y/N relaxing against him, really allowing him to hold her, not just physically.

“I miss her.” Her voice cracked at the end, and felt Tommy’s hands hugging her tighter.

“I know, love. I miss her too, but you know what? I just noticed you’ve got so many mannerisms like her.”

Y/N’s head moved back to give him a confused look.

“You do, just as you were sipping coffee this morning, the way you hugged Charlie it made me remember every time we visited your grandma and she hugged you.”

“You think so?” Surprise washed over her.

Tommy nodded.

“You’ve got lots of things from her, both physically and internally.” He brushed a rebel lock away from her face and looked at her with adoring eyes. “I realized you look so much alike in this photo.”

Fishing his phone in his pocket, Tommy searched for the image he was looking for, a candid image he snapped from Y/N when she wasn’t looking.

“You never told me you took this.” She was surprised by how much she looked like her grandmother indeed.

“If you put them side by side, it’ll be more obvious.” A genuine smile appeared on his lips.

“It’s lovely, thanks. I’ll make a collage.” Y/N leaned in to brush her lips against his. “Do you mind if I go to sleep? I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll join you in a minute, just want to check Charlie.”

“My God, he must be so confused for not having the Christmas tree yet.” Worry was evident in her voice.

“Don’t worry about it baby, I’ll take care of it.” He then joined her in the middle of the hall to give Y/N one more reassuring kiss. Making sure she was upstairs, he called Frances. “Would you help me pack a small suitcase for Charlie and another one for Y/N, leave them by the door so the driver can place them in the back of the car.”

“Of course Mr. Shelby.” The maid nodded.

“Oh and Frances? Make sure to pack yours as well, I need you to look after Charlie.”

Leaving the maid perplexed, Tommy went upstairs.

***

“Since Charlie isn’t cooperating, Frances would you explain why all this mystery?”

Charlie grinned and gave Frances one long and expectant look.

“I’m afraid I don’t know madam.”

Y/N tried getting Tommy to talk, but it was useless. Suddenly he was more interested in the sky than in the interrogation she was making.

“Wow, look at that plane!” Charlie pointed out.

It was until then that Y/N realized of where they were going. The airport.

“Tommy.”

One look and she knew.

“Tom-”

“Just relax, okay?” He interrupted. “For once. All you need to do is get on that plane.”

“Can I ask…?”

“Nope.” He perched his signature Ray Bans against his nose and offered his hand so Y/N could get out of the car.

“Let’s go!” Charlie shouted, leaving them behind.

“Frances?” Y/N tried again.

“Oh Miss Y/LN I know the same thing as you.”

The crew of the private plane greeted them and offered drinks and breakfast, and Y/N still didn’t know the destination. She was worried not being able to take control over the smallest thing, because Tommy was taking care of absolutely everything.

“Fine.” She mumbled leaning against the window.

“Finally! Now we can start our little holiday.” Tommy squeezed her hand. “I know you didn’t feel like celebrating for what it means this time without your grandmother, but Y/N, she would wanted you to smile and be happy.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Wherever you choose to celebrate or not, your grandma will be right with you, in your heart.”

“I know, but it’s not the same without her.”

Tommy wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye tenderly.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to spend this Christmas sitting on the couch crying.”

He wanted to compensate for her sadness. And although nothing would her back what she wanted the most, he could try to make her happy. He was right, and the effort meant more than she could express, so with a sigh she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Dad! Look!” Charlie’s nose was glued to the window. Frances looking over his shoulder.

That’s when Y/N realized….

“Paris?”

“We’ll always have Paris.” Tommy whispered.

Y/N wasn’t able to hold back the tears any longer.

She knew when she was around six years old, her grandma took her to Paris to visit some family, but the memories were blurred in her mind. Through her grandmother’s eyes she had been able to know some parts of their adventure together. A few photographs but that was pretty much all.

Either way, she felt a special connection to the place and that quote was something her grandmother constantly said, as it was one of greatest experiences she had with Y/N. And they both treasured it close to their hearts.

“It’s time to make our own memories.” Tommy’s voice made her go back into reality. “What do you say?”

She wanted to ask him a million questions, but decided to just let everything flow. In the end he really took care of everything, prepared even the smallest detail of their trip and gave her that reassuring smile that let her know everything would be alright.

As they stepped outside the airport, snow welcomed them, everything was covered in a white layer. But it only added an even more beautiful vibe to their trip.

“I love you, you know that?” Y/N closed her hands around his neck and pulled Tommy for a brief kiss while Frances and Charlie took their seats in the vehicle.

“I do.” He gave another one back. “And I love you too.”

“This is beautiful.” Y/N beamed as they rode through the Parisian streets.

“Actually… shall we stop?” Tommy proposed, while Y/N gave him a confused look. “It’s fine, Frances will make sure the bags are checked in and we’ll go back in a bit.”

Making sure Charlie had the scarf around his neck, Y/N covered her hands with her gloves, while Tommy’s hand wrapped around the small of her back as they strolled around.

“Dad I want to go the carrousel!” Charlie announced excitedly. With his father’s approval, the kid stormed towards the attraction impatiently.

“Bet you were just like that.” Y/N mumbled to herself but loud enough for Tommy to throw his head back and laugh.

“Guess you could say that.”

“Look! Just like Winter!” Charlie pointed at the white horse figure, thinking of their horse back home.

“Just like her huh? Think you can handle this one?”

“Of course, it’s a fake.” Charlie retorted making Y/N smile.

Paying for Charlie’s ticket, they stepped aside to see him riding.

Using her phone, Y/N captured a candid photo of Charlie waving at them, a big smile on his small face.

“What is it?”

“Nothin’ just wish Ruby could be here as well.” Tommy cleared his throat and pretended to be busy with a cigarette.

Y/N knew deep down that fearless man was a sweet man with a good heart who cared deeply of his people.

“I’m sure you’ll reach an agreement with Lizzie later on, she’s still a one year old girl.” Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder to comfort him.

“It’s hard to believe she’ll let me anywhere near Ruby.”

“You’re her father, you’ve the right to see her.”

These holidays had been hard for him as well.

“You know what? I don’t want to talk about anything that might ruin this, you, Charlie, me right here it’s all that matters.” He stated before taking a deep puff of smoke.

“Thank you, for cheering me up.” Stepping in front of him, Y/N captured his lips in a kiss full of gratitude.

“Careful, you might get us arrested and only one of us knows French.” Tommy joked with a sparkle in his eyes. His hands sneaking under her coat.

“I see why you brought Frances then.”

“I always have a plan.” He winked at her.

She could feel a thousand butterflies in her stomach by the way he smiled. “Santa said you’ve been a good girl.”

Y/N blushed. “Oh… and what about you mister?”

“Nah… I’m the bad boy your grandmother warned you about.” Another wink by him and she produced another smile as Charlie ran towards them. “But what you gonna do about it? It’s kind of late now to back down.” He added jokingly.

“She loved you too.” Bending down, Y/N asked Charlie if he enjoyed the ride. “Who wants some hot chocolate?”

“Me! Me! Me!” Charlie shouted.

Tommy groaned. “If you find the button to turn him off let me know.”

“You’re so mean, as if I did the same to you.”

“No, Y/N you turn me on.” Tommy admitted just before Y/N moved her hand to cover his mouth, he was taking advantage of Charlie’s innocence and the mischievous grin on his face gave him away.

Sipping on her hot chocolate cup, Y/N allowed a small glimpse of happiness, it was a beautiful place, the Christmas decoration providing a gorgeous sighting, everyone oozing happiness. The snowy weather made the sighting look out of a Christmas postal.

She was torn between enjoying her favorite season and the grief she carried in her heart. It was her first holidays without her grandmother and her empty chair was definitely evident. She was at a much better place now, no doubt but her absence felt heavy in Y/N’s heart.

Grief is just all the love with no place to go after all.

Noticing the sadness in her eyes, Tommy stopped at a stand, looking for the ornaments they had to decorate the Christmas tree.

“Are you looking for something special?” The man asked.

“Yes… a house ornament.” Tommy replied, feeling Y/N’s eyes on him. “Do you guys want something?”

“A reindeer!” Charlie’s eyes shining.

Y/N took her time studying the ornaments, until one caught her attention.

Following her eyes, Tommy had to swallow the lump in his throat. I have an Angel in heaven, called Grandma. It read. It was the one.

Kissing her temple, Tommy offered his embrace as they waited to get their decorations.

“Dad why did you choose the house?” Charlie asked with curiosity.

Getting a cab for them, he looked at his son. “I’ll tell you later about it.”

Y/N looked the exchange in silence, but also wondering the meaning behind his choice. She’s expect him to choose something with a dark humor behind instead.

“Look Charlie, the Eiffel Tower’s lights are flicking again.” Y/N pointed as they drove in the opposite direction, back to their hotel.

“Okay this is the plan, Charlie you’re heading to bed the second we step into the hotel, no questions. Tomorrow we’re having breakfast and then we’re going to a flea market.”

“Tommy…” Y/N gasped.

“What? You always said you wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and a flea market in that same order.”

“I know, but how do you remember?”

Scoffing, Tommy gave her the look. “Sweetheart, I pay attention.”

“Only thing that sucks is Santa doesn’t know I’m here.” Charlie complained once in front of their door.

With a smile, Tommy opened the door for them, making them both gasp loudly as they saw the huge Christmas tree in the middle, fully decorated with presents wrapped all around.

“Well I might have informed him we would be traveling and changed the address.” He admitted pleased with himself. He wanted them to have the nicest possible holiday. “Why don’t we add our ornaments?”

Tommy took her by surprise, not only for the trip, but for the tree as well, she thought about sneaking around the shops of the hotel to buy Charlie something thinking he wouldn’t get anything, but Tommy thought of everything.

“This is beautiful, thank you.” Y/N wrapped her arms around his torso, feeling so grateful to have him in her life.

“Presents are meant to be open until tomorrow morning though.”

“But Daaad.”

“No buts, off to bed.”

Pouting, Charlie walked towards Y/N. “Goodnight Y/N Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Charlie, have a good night.” She hugged the boy and kissed the top of his head.

“Night Dad.” He then said. “Merry Christmas.”

“See you tomorrow son, Merry Christmas.”

Watching him disappear, Tommy took Y/N by the hand.

“Want to know why I chose the house?”

“Absolutely.” She brushed the fringe from his forehead with her fingers.

“Because that’s my only wish this Christmas… to build a home with you, Y/N. A proper house; our own title team, we’ve talked about the future, well it’s finally here, in this moment. You made me realize of what I truly want, what I dream of.” Getting on one knee, Tommy showed her an old jewelry box. “I know you miss your grandma terribly and no one will ever fill her place in your heart, but in some way, she found a way to show you she’ll always be right next to you, she gave me this ring, she wanted you to have it and be as happy as she was during her marriage. Will you marry me?”

He looked at her with tears in his eyes, fighting to say the words as emotions took over.

“Tommy…” bending down she kissed him. “Wait a second, this is her engagement ring?”

Taking the delicate piece from the box, he smiled proudly.

“Before she passed away, she gave it to me to propose you with her ring.”

Her head was spinning, her heart drumming against her ribs.

“She did what? When?” Shock was written all over her face.

“Can you please say yes first? So I can get up.” He groaned.

“Yes of course!” She kissed him again, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“When we took her to the clinic, as you were asked to fill the papers with her information, the nurse just left,” he explained as the memories of that day came back to him, “she asked me if I really loved you, to which the answer is pretty obvious. Then she asked me in case something happened to her to go to her house and open the safe to get her engagement ring and keep it until it was the right time to give it to you, she wanted you to have it as she knew how much you’d miss her.”

Y/N sobbed as Tommy’s voice cracked.

“She said to me make her even happier than I was, and the day she walks down the aisle, I’ll be right by her side.”

“I thought it was lost or stolen, as I went through her belongings.” Y/N wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes.

“She wanted you to have it, with a different meaning.”

“It’s the most perfect ring I’ve ever seen.” She looked down at her left hand, the stone shining under the chandelier.

“Just Iike you’re to me.” He pulled his now fiancé for a hug. “She wanted you to be happy, to live life to the fullest. Said you were her favorite grandchild.”

Her lower lip trembled just as his hands came to rest at each side of her head.

“Just don’t let anyone else listen.” They said in unison to what Y/N’s grandma used to confess.

“I know you lost a huge part of yourself when she left. But you have to know that you were right beside her through everything, you enjoyed her in every moment, every visit, dinner and chance you had, you took care of her until her very last breath, and no one can take that away from you. Find peace in that. You loved her as much as she loved you.”

Tommy caressed her face with his thumbs.

“Now you have to keep that promise, and be happy. For her. For us.”

Y/N could only nod. Words were stuck in her throat.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Y/N expressed in a whisper, staring at her grandmother’s engagement ring.

“We’re getting married.” Tommy assured her, thumbs caressing her cheeks. “Eh? Soon to be Mrs. Shelby.”

Y/N blushed. “That sounds promising.”

Taking her by surprise, Tommy grabbed her from the waist to spin her around, making Y/N gasp and hold onto him tightly.

Trying to hold back the tears, Y/N hugged Tommy closing her eyes for an instant.

“What’s crossing your mind?” He asked.

And for the first time in a while, he saw the way the smile reached Y/N’s eyes.

“Thinking how grandma will always be with me.”

****

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