#had to lie face to floor feet on bench

[nco05]

I truely believe pain receptors have misfired in my brain or shit when I was born

Cuz appears to be normal people pain tolerance almost faint when they go through their ankle & likely tear something... They don't walk it off like I did & continued to party 8 more hours

[jflemings]

— loose lips sink ships pt7

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: a light begins to shine at the end of the tunnel

warnings: shorter than i wanted it to be 🥴

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

jessie rounds the corner slowly, almost like you’re going to bolt. her face softens and she leans her hip on the counter “i don’t… i don’t know if i have one”

you visibly deflate at jessie’s words. on one hand, you’re relieved to know that she didn’t do it out of malice, but on the other, the way a simple lie slipped off her tongue so easily didn’t feel good. you didn’t want to question your whole relationship with jessie, but you were beginning to think that maybe you had too.

you sighed. “is there anything else you’ve lied to me about?”

she tucks her wet hair behind her ear “other than birthday presents, surprises and the few times i’ve had to lie to you about what time an event started so we could arrive on time? no.” she says with a small smile “i’ve been nothing but honest with you through our whole relationship. every time i’ve told you that i love you, that i would do anything for you, that there’s no one else in the world for me. i meant it. i don’t have an excuse or an answer you want and, i’m sorry for that, but it was never my intention to lie to you about my previous relationship.”

you take in everything she’s saying, listen to every word intently, and pause for a moment. she looks more confident standing in front of you now — unlike how she was when you first walked in — and you can’t help but begin to relent.

sitting on a bar stool, you drop the charger and your keys onto the counter, propping your feet on the footrest. for the first time since you walked in you take in the appearance of your shared apartment and your girlfriend. there’s a few dirty dishes in the sink, the shoe rack by the front door is in disarray, and if you look down the hallway you think you can see dirty laundry on the bedroom floor. then you look at jessie, and begin to notice how worn she looks. her eyes aren’t lively like they usually are and she looks like she hasn’t slept. you purse your lips.

“have you slept?” you question abruptly with your eyes narrowed at her

jessie squirms under your gaze “uh— no. not really”

you nod towards the barstool that’s opposite you and kick it out from the bench so she can sit down. the canadian hesitates for a moment before doing as you wordlessly asked, keeping the towel secure around her as she sits and shuffles to get comfortable.

“have you eaten?”

“that’s irrelevant”

“jessie” you level her with a look and hook your foot around the leg of the stool, dragging it towards you.

jessie looks towards the fridge “i was just about to make myself something”

silence once again begins to suffocate you. you don’t know where to go from here, especially after she told you that there was no rhyme or reason for her apparent mistake and as you sit in front of her, you don’t know if you want to kiss or kill her.

you’re angry at her for something so careless so early on, for telling you a lie about something and somebody so important to her. this wasn’t a college fling — this was jessie’s first love.

“you never answered my question about your old feelings resurfacing” you say quietly.

jessie looks into your eyes “there’s no romantic feelings” she says without missing a beat “none at all”

“why didn’t you just tell me that before?”

“because,” she rubs her hand over her brow bone “what i felt when i saw her again was hard to explain. it wasn’t love, but it was a sense of nostalgia. i hadn’t seen her since before i left for london and, i don’t know, i couldn’t really pin point what i was feeling at the time”

“i don’t think i understand” your voice cracks “how can you be nostalgic over a past relationship but feel nothing towards her?”

jessie pauses in contemplation for a moment before grabbing your hand and holding it firm in her own. “because by the time olivia and i split up i had fallen out of love with her. we had held on for the last few months until i started getting offers from clubs overseas but it was clear to the both of us that it was over”

she squeezes your hand “she was my first love, that’s true, but you are the one i want to be with for the rest of my life. i’m sorry that my actions made you doubt everything, and i’m sorry that i let you walk out without even trying to give you a real explanation, but please believe me. i don’t feel anything towards olivia”

your eyes glass over as you tip your head back to look at the ceiling. you believe her. you know you believe the love of your life. but you just can’t shake the way you felt when you walked out on her. the way the betrayal caved in your heart and made it hard to breathe was something you never want to experience again, especially not as the hands of someone as warm as jessie.

“you really hurt me, jess” a shaky breath stutters it’s way out of your throat as you look her in the eyes again “and i never, ever, want to feel that way again”

“i never want to make you feel that way again,” she squeezes your hand again and tears brim her eyes “and i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance”

“i think i’m still going to stay at sam’s, at least for the rest of the week”

disappointment flashes across jessie’s face before she gives you a small smile “okay, just let me know if you need anything for the rest of the week”

“i’m gonna grab some clean clothes whilst i’m here”

jessie nods and stands “okay. i’ll just be getting changed” she jerks her thumb back towards the bathroom “don’t mind the state of the bedroom”

jessie retreats back to the bathroom whilst you grab your duffel from the couch and head for the bedroom. you were right, it was a bit of a mess. at least by jessie’s standards.

it was weird to see the room in such general disorder considering the fact that your girlfriend was so good at keeping her space clean. you pick things up off the floor and throw them into the dirty washing before beginning to pull out your own clean clothes, grabbing at least three more day’s worth of things you’re going to need.

you also straighten up the bed and throw the small amount of rubbish that has accumulated before jessie comes back into the bedroom, a look of apology already on her face. her eyes go slightly wide when she walks in.

“you didn’t have to clean up my mess. i can do it myself”

you shrug and zip up your bag once you’re sure you have enough pairs of socks “yeah, but i was in here anyway and you do the same for me all the time”

“thank you” she says, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie “and you should take the ice pack, you know the one you fill up instead of freeze? it’ll probably be more comfortable on your nose”

your eyes soften “i will” you step towards her and put a hand on her face softly, searching her eyes before giving her a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. her face goes ablaze. “i love you,” you say to her softly “and i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

jessie’s hand cups yours “okay”

you pat her face lovingly and pull away, heading out of the bedroom before you look over your shoulder “please eat something”

“i will” she responds, a blush still dusting her freckled cheeks.

your heart flutters as you leave the apartment as quietly as you came, the weight lifting off your shoulders with ease. your relationship wasn’t back to where it was before, but you no longer felt like jessie was beginning to be out of your reach like you had for the past few days. at the very least you knew that she still loved you and for the moment, that’s all that mattered.

[jjunieworld]

── 6:41 a.m. ࣪ ˖`

pairing: kang taehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff, kinda suggestive?, boyfriend!taehyun, established relationship

synopsis: you’re awoken early in the morning from taehyun’s alarm to go to the gym and decide to go with him. you end up distracting him from his routine with your staring and decide to encourage him with kisses to help him.

word count: 0.9k┊masterlist

a/n: consider this my apology for my february 14th oneshot… i tried so hard to get this out before midnight so it was still on his birthday but time hates me. requested by anon, enjoy! ♡

you were awakened by taehyun’s alarm loudly blaring. sleepily, he quickly turned it off and sat up in the bed. you sat up with him, rubbing your bleary eyes, and glanced at his lit up phone screen. 6:41 a.m., is he insane?

“sorry, baby, i didn’t mean to wake you,” taehyun pressed a kiss to your cheek and swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand. “go back to sleep,” he added. you sulked at him, “where are you going?”

he looked over to you briefly from the dresser, a small grin on his face when he saw your expression, “to the gym. you wanna come?” you thought about it for a moment. it couldn’t hurt.

you nodded enthusiastically and got up. taehyun laughed at you as he pulled out his gym clothes. he then made his way to the bathroom. you dug into your shared dresser for your athleisure that you didn’t wear for working out and pulled out a cute set. wiggling out of your pajamas, you quickly put the set on.

the two of you got ready for the day, brushing your teeth and washing your face side by side in the bathroom. you slid your hair up so it was out of your face. you looked over to taehyun, who was wiping the toothpaste off the side of his mouth. he ran a hand through his blue hair, “ready?” you nodded in response.

you both had gotten to the gym not too long after, the gym being basically empty besides the spare person here or there. taehyun guided you to a corner and you set your stuff down and began stretching with him.

he had you start with crunches, which weren’t that bad at first, but you definitely started to feel them the more you went on. next were lunges. you were done after the fifth one. “i can’t… i’m done. you’re crazy!” you said through heavy breathing. taehyun laughed, not even a single bead of sweat on his forehead, “it’s not that bad!” you just shook your head, opting to sit on one of the benches. “no… i’ll just watch. this was a bad idea.”

taehyun smirked as he finished his warm ups. he moved towards the various equipment the gym had, working through his routine. you sat back and watched him curiously. taehyun moved so fluidly through the room it was fascinating to see.

and you weren’t gonna lie, seeing his muscles stretch and flex, the sweat gleaming off of them, was what was really fascinating. that was the real show.

“i can’t focus with you staring at me so hard,” taehyun said as he pulled down on the weighted machine. his back was to you and you licked your lips at how his muscles flexed. you smirked to yourself, “don’t worry about me.”

taehyun let the equipment fall back as he turned towards you. his hair fell in his eyes in the process. “you’re distracting me!” he said, a smile forming on his lips. you stood to your feet, “here, let me give you some encouragement!”

motioning him over, he raised from the machine with confusion in his eyes. he came to you, an eyebrow raised. “get down on the floor, you’re doing push-ups!” you spoke. taehyun grinned and got down, holding his weight on his hands as he looked up to you. you got down to the floor and laid your head under his so you were staring at him upside down.

taehyun smirked down at you, “what are you doing?” you gave him a cheeky smile back. “one push-up equals one kiss! now drop and give me twenty!” you playfully puckered your lips up at him, causing him to laugh. “okay, chief!” taehyun did one push-up, pressing one kiss to your lips.

giggling, you counted in a singsong tone, “one!” he did another push-up, pecking your cheek. you shook your head. “nope, sorry that won’t do! start over from the beginning!”

“a cheek kiss doesn’t count?” taehyun smiled and you shook your head. he blew out a breath of air as he hovered above you. “and i gotta start from the beginning because of it?” you laughed and nodded your head. he didn’t even have to go back that far, he only did one push-up! taehyun smirked down at you again.

taehyun would do ten push-ups, pressing a kiss to your lips for each one, before making a ‘mistake’ on the eleventh one and missing your lips. he did this six times before you had to stop him due to your giggling and heated face. “you’re abusing the rules!” you exclaimed playfully up to him. he gave you a mock shocked look, “i would do no such thing!”

he brought his lips down to yours again, humming after. “we could do something else if you want?” he whispered next to your ear. you shook your head again, “nice try!”

wiggling out from under him, you sat up and turned to him. taehyun in turn sat onto his knees, pushing his hair off his forehead. “you finish working out and i’ll continue watching,” you told him, trailing your eyes over his figure as you stood to your feet. you smirked at his slightly open mouth and sat back onto the bench.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @hueningm1ckey @dani-is-tired @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie

masterlist┊request rules （　≖‿≖）

[kitkatscabinet]

Are you there God?

Summary: A chance meeting in the dilapidated remains of your mother's old church ends up changing the trajectory of two lives

Pairing: Jason Todd x f! Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, mentions of Christianity and nsfw themes. Unedited.

There’s a chill in the air, carrying with it the promise of an upcoming winter. The old church offers little reprieve from the harsh bite of the night air, the wind easily pushing through dilapidated wood. 

The many near burnt-out candles that flicker and cast dancing shadows across the darkened chapel emanate no heat. Nor does the flimsy jacket you’d hastily adorned before this impromptu midnight visit. 

Your fingertips tingle from the cool temperature, even as you exhale smoke from the cigarette you’d used one of the dying candles to light. 

Sacrilegious sure, you could perfectly picture the scowling faces of the nuns if they could see you, but it was one of those nights—the nights where you needed something, anything to take the edge off. 

And if nicotine was your preferred poison? Well better that than heroin you argued. 

Besides, if God existed then he had bigger issues to worry about than you sprinkling some ash on the floor of an old dilapidated church slated for condemnation. 

A tinge of sorrow hits you as you take in the poor state of what was once your mother’s church. You’ve no fond memories of the place, having hated being dragged along every Sunday by your more devout mother in your childhood. Now though, it’s one of your last remaining connections to your long passed mother. 

Gotham had never been an overtly religious city, you guessed it was hard to believe in a supposedly merciful God when you lived in such a shithole. And ever since the discovery of aliens, demons and the like, Gotham’s faith in anything divine had long since seemed to die out completely.

You stare up at the wooden Jesus hanging behind the pew contemplatively. It’s silly, you’re not even remotely religious but something compels you to speak to the empty space regardless. 

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned” That was how it went right? “It’s been… well forever since my last confession.” 

“I look like a priest to you darlin?” A startled screech leaves your lips at the unexpected masculine voice. Jolting, the butt of your cigarette flies from your hand, your free one clutching at your chest. 

“Jesus Christ!” You exclaimed, trying to calm your hammering heart. 

“Not quite.” The voice rumbles as a muscular figure steps into your view. Your eyes trail from booted feet up to thick thighs adorned with gun holsters that inspire some incredibly less-than-holy thoughts. But it’s the blazing red bat symbol stretched across the man’s chest that makes your mouth run dry, it's the Red Hood.

You’d never seen the gun-toting, violent, vigilante in person but it's unmistakable who’s standing across from you now.  Forcing your breathing to even out, you allow your muscles to relax as you lean back against the wooden pew. 

“Too pretty to be a priest.” You agree with his earlier statement, watching in amusement as the vigilante stutters in his steps. It was cute, watching a man of his renown and stature suddenly flounder in embarrassment. 

“Didn’t exactly take you to be the religious sort.” You say, gaze never once leaving his form as he slowly sits down on the creaking bench beside you. 

“I’m not.” He grunts.

“Me neither.” You confess, the two of you sitting in companionable silence as you stare up at the wooden Jesus that presided over the church. 

You don’t know what compels you to keep returning to that dilapidated old church (that’s a lie, you know damn well why), but like clockwork, every Sunday night you return. And every Sunday night, so does he. 

At first, he hadn’t been consistent. Why would he? The Red Hood had no reason to be skulking around a random church, nor did he have a reason to want to see you. 

Still, you kept going to that church, and unbeknownst to you, so did he. 

Since that first night, Jason Todd had been watching. What had started with concern over a young woman walking alone at night had morphed into curiosity into what he refused to acknowledge was a crush. 

Though he’s pretty sure not even the helmet had been able to hide the heart eyes he’d thrown your way when you admitted that Pride and Prejudice was your favourite novel. 

He’s late sometimes, bloodied and bruised, but three months following that first fateful meeting, the Red Hood goes out of his way to meet with a random civilian girl. 

It was nearing the two-month mark when everything changed. The both of you were forced to acknowledge the underlying tension of the odd and unexpected friendship that had formed in the twilight hours spent under the roof of a God neither of you believed in. 

It had been the first time you’d seen him injured, barely a scratch in Jason’s opinion, but the way you’d worked yourself into a frenzy of worry over him, the way you’d dropped to your knees before him and had taken his bloody knuckles into your gentle touch would forever be engraved into his mind. 

It’s at that moment that Jason realises God’s not there, because if so then surely he would have smitten Jason then and there for thinking such sinful thoughts in his house. Besides, as far as he was concerned, you were the only entity worth praying to anyway. 

He wants so badly to rip off the mask, secret identity be damned, and kiss you breathless. In the end, cowardice wins out, but Jason thinks back on that night often with regret. 

“Favourite hero go,” Red asks, turning to look at you with what you imagine is a smirk under his stupid red helmet. 

“It’s not you if that’s what you’re fishing for,” you grin, looking back up at the ceiling from where you lay on the wooden floor, protected from the dust and splinters by an old picnic blanket. 

The terrifying sort-of-crimelord lying beside you scoffs in offence like the big baby he is. 

“Ok then who is it?”

“Wonder Woman.”

“Oh that’s such a basic bitch fucking answer.” You know he’s joking, Red’s made it clear that despite his distaste for Batman he respects the hell out of Wonder Woman. Still, you entertain him, rolling your eyes dramatically. 

“Fine, you wanna know the real answer? It’s Black Canary, but specifically when she was rocking that full-body black leotard with the mesh cutouts on the legs and the cropped bomber jacket.”

There’s a stunned silence that follows your passionate answer before Red bursts into laughter. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you quip, though there’s no actual heat behind your words. 

“You wish.” Any witty retort instantly dies on your lips and you’re suddenly distinctly aware of the heat emanating off his shoulder which brushes lightly against yours. 

Red has stopped laughing, coughing to clear his throat as you suddenly wish for the floor to swallow you whole. For anything to distract you from the way your mind suddenly races, filled with various images of different positions you could achieve right there in front of Jesus. 

“Right, well, I should probably go. Bad guys to catch and all.” It’s painfully awkward and so is your lacklustre response. 

“Oh, yeah … yeah.”

Neither of you move though and you don’t think you’ve ever been more hyper-aware of your body and the one lying next to you in your life. You quickly sit up, the vigilante mimicking your movements. 

“So um —”

“Well I — ” The both of you speak at once, you motion for him to go first and he clears his throat once more. 

“I should probably go now. Bye.” With that, he’s gone so fast he might as well have been the flash, leaving you alone to stew in the mortification and arousal that’s worked its way into your belly. 

A scream of frustration rips its way out of your throat when your mind conjures up the very graphic image of you straddling one of Red’s delicious thighs and refuses to drop the line of thought. 

Little did you know, Jason had needed to cut his patrol short for the same reason. A cold shower having practically screamed his name. 

Footsteps echoed up the aisle towards where you were sat in the front pew, as had become a tradition between you and your vigilante, playfully you turn towards the source. “Hey Red, you’re late — ” the words die on your tongue, mouth running dry as you take in a trio of figures, none of whom are the Red Hood. 

The fear must show on your face as you shakily stand, and try to create space from the ominously grinning men. 

“What’s the matter darlin?” One of them drawls, and you want to throw up at the use of the petname, that was what he called you. 

“Look, I don’t know what you want but my friend will be here soon.” You mentally curse yourself when you notice the way your voice quivers, and the men clearly pick up on it too. 

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Fear nearly roots you to your place at the surety in his words, but you live in Gotham and Red Hood has made it his mission to get you to be able to defend yourself. 

You don’t think, you just move, and when the nearest guy reaches out to grab your arm you knee him in the balls. He goes down with a howl and you think you break the second guy's nose if the crunch is any indication. 

The unmistakable click of a gun’s safety has you stopping in your tracks once more.  “That’s it, just settle down now. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours now would we?”

Tears well up in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, unwilling to give them the satisfaction. Goon #2 uses the opportunity to grab your arm in a bruising grip before a blow to the cheek leaves you reeling, black dots dancing across your vision as you struggle to regain your senses. 

“Speak for yourself, the little bitch broke my fucking nose.” 

“What do you want from me?” You croak when you finally regain the ability to speak, ignoring the metallic taste of blood on your tongue. 

“From you? Nothing. It’s not personal darling, but the word around here is that the Red Hood is sweet on ya, and well, I don’t appreciate the way he’s been nosing about my business lately.”

You should be terrified of the implications of that statement, about what these men will do to you, and you are — but you can’t stop thinking about how Red will inevitably blame himself for anything that happens to you. 

You close your eyes, trying to make peace with what is likely the hour of your death. You’re in a house of God, you should be praying to him, and yet all you can think of is Red. Your Red.

A gunshot rings out, followed by another, and another. When seconds pass and you feel no pain you open your eyes, just in time to witness the Red Hood reaching gently for your face. Despite yourself, you flinch slightly when his gloved hand brushes lightly against your cheek. 

He reels back as if stricken, and immediately you wish to rectify your mistake. With a sob, you launch yourself into his arms, ignoring what is probably the corpses of the three men lying on the ground. 

“You saved me,” you mumbled against his chest, relishing in how safe you felt encased in his arms. 

“Always.” There’s such surety in that single word, such devotion that you believe him. 

“Red — ” you mumble, pulling away to meet what you expect to be the whites of his mask, only to gasp when you find yourself looking into swirling pools of blue-green. 

“Jason,” the whispered name is a confession to you alone, though you barely have time to ponder the new information before a pair of lips descend upon your own. Your eyes flutter closed once more, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. 

You’ll deal with the after-effects of what you just experienced later, what almost happened to you, for now, you’re content to remain absorbed in Red’s — in Jason’s arms.

The man who'd been there when God wasn't.

[agoodroughandtumble]

You Talk In Your Sleep - Zoro x Reader

Status: Complete but as always might be continued Summary: Reader wakes up in the Crow’s Nest without remembering why, fortunately Zoro is playing his cards to his chest Warning: 18+, Language, implied smut

The sound of heavy boots thudding against floorboards woke you up. That was...weird. Nami was, unsurprisingly, incredibly light-footed – so much so there that had been more than one occasion when you hadn’t realised she was behind you until her voice made you jump out of your skin. So. If it wasn’t her feet… You peeked one eye open, coming face to face with the offending feet and let out a small sigh of relief. Zoro. More confusion washed over you. Why was he in your room? Why were you on the floor? You sat up only to realise that this was not in fact your room. This was the crow’s nest. At least that explained being on the floor and why your hips were starting to ache at the less an ideal sleeping position.

The swordsman had his back to you so you managed a sneaking glance underneath the blanket currently covering you. You were fully dressed.

Zoro must have heard the sigh of relief as he let out a small chuckle, turning to look at you with an amused smile. “We didn’t fuck if that’s what you’re worried about.” A pause. “You don’t remember? Must have been drunker than I thought.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just explain why I’m here. You didn’t kidnap me, did you?”

Zoro rolled his eyes whilst helping you to your feet. “As if I need that headache.”

Growing annoyed at his nonchalance, you sat down on the bench and pulled the blanket tighter against you. It wasn’t like you to forget anything after a night of a few beers – and the fact that Zoro seemed to be taking the situation in his stride was all the more of an attack on your pride. You remembered drinking on the deck with the others – nothing unusual about that. And you remembered deciding you were too tired and needed to go to bed, but, clearly that plan had failed. “Don’t be a smartarse.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”

You glared at him, “That’s rich coming from you.”

A tense silence fell. Despite him being annoyingly right this time, you weretoo stubborn and determined not to be the one to break it. In truth, you did feel a little guilty about being quite so defensive but he was hardly helping the situation, so at least you could be a little justified. You let out a frustrated sigh, crossing your arms underneath the blanket and pointedly looking anywhere except at your green haired crew mate. Somehow, no one else could get on your nerves quite as much as Zoro could. It was as if someone had given him a diagram of your buttons and he was determined to push every single one of them. Repeatedly. Whilst smirking.

His next words did nothing but cement that thought. “You know you talk in your sleep?”

You froze. Oh, shit. You wracked your brain, trying to remember something, anything you could have been dreaming about. But… Nami had never commented on your sleep talking. And since the two of you shared a bunk she must have heard something...wait. You narrowed your eyes again, finally turning towards him with an accusing glare. “Is that so?” This was just another way of him trying to get under your skin again. You tried to relax your face, not giving him anything. In an attempt at remaining causal you leant back a tad, letting the blanket slip down to your waist and patted the seat next to you. Zoro took the hint and joined you on the bench, cross his ankles together, legs stretched out and looking far too smug for your liking. “Indulge me then,” you continued, “What was I saying?”

Zoro let out a theatrical sigh, as if trying to remember. “Something about Sanji being a shitty cook. And how his feeble attempts at flirting with you are pointless.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. If you’re going to lie at least be plausible.”

He flashed you a grin. Your hands gripped at the corner of the blanket. “You were very clear. Sanji is a pervert and,” his fingers found the bridge of his nose, as if wracked in thought, “Ah yeah, Zoro is the most attractive man you have ever laid eyes on.”

You snorted, even for him that was a stretch. “So I definitely drank too much then.”

This time, it was any easy silence which fell over you. And you were becoming increasingly aware of Zoro’s proximity to you – so close you could almost feel him. Obviously you hadn’t said that. Otherwise it wouldn’t have taken so much probing but… you chewed at your lip slightly, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. Infuriating as he was, there was definitely something to be said about him. Perhaps not the most attractive man but he wasn’t far off. You fidgeted with the blanket. “Well,” you paused, not entirely sure what your response was supposed to be, “It wasn’t entirely gentlemanly to listen.”

Wow. Smooth. Fuck’s sake.

Zoro laughed. You waited with bated breath, was he laughing at you or with you? And why the hell did it even matter? And, more importantly, why were you suddenly talking like a fucking imbecile – “entirely gentlemanly”? Fucking hell.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Aaaand. Your brain stopped. You scrunched your face, as if resetting. Fuck. You felt his fingers brushing against your thigh. Fuck. He didn’t seem to register it. You stood up abruptly, blanket now completely disregarded. Embarrassment like a neon sign. “And you’re...tall.”

Zoro leant back against the seat, arms behind his head, shit eating grin across his face. “Got you this riled up, huh? Probably shouldn’t tell you everything you said then.”

You could have punched him. Or yourself. Or just...fuck. “Just. Urgh. Shut up. I’m going back to my bed. And you’re staying here and fuck. Shut up.”

It would have been a more dramatic exist if you hadn’t left your dignity.

* The Night Before *

Zoro had always enjoyed the night watch – usually because it gave him plenty of time to train without being bothered by anyone else. It was part of the reason he liked having his gym up in the Crow’s Nest. And whilst it was a bit annoying that everyone else had been in good spirits and having a few beers and he couldn’t drink quite as much saké as he would have liked, there was a peacefulness he welcomed. He should have been looking at the horizon, watching for any enemy ships but his crew laughing, dancing, enjoying a rare night of calm was far more entertaining. Seeing everyone having fun was his reward for his hours of training, his dedication to his craft, his vigilance to keep them safe. Every now and then his gaze would linger on you, indulging himself a little before reminding himself that just staring at you was getting a...bit weird. But when you were laughing and singing and… just being you, he was far too gone.

Fortunately, self-restraint was almost second nature to Zoro by now and so he had eventually managed to pull his eyes away and focus on the horizon – albeit in the complete opposite direction of where you were. The weights in his hands were controlling all of his nervous energy. So of course you had to wreck his solitude. But he would only complain a little.

He had assumed it was Luffy walking in to complain that Sanji was asleep and therefore not supplying the captain with endless meat. Only it was you. Loudly. And almost tripping. He dropped the weight with a loud thud to steady you. “(Y/N), you okay? What are you doing?”

You pushed him away slightly, although kept a hand on his bicep to keep yourself steady. His skin burnt at the touch. “I came to keep you company.” You grinned, seeming very pleased yourself, and Zoro felt his heart melt a little.

“You don’t need to. You should be in bed.”

“Pfft.” You made a beeline for the blankets and cushions adorning the bench. “It’s boring being up here by yourself. I’m much more entertaining.”

Zoro watched you, almost incredulously as you managed to form a make-shift nest and settled yourself in. Clearly you were not going to be keeping him company but you looked far too adorable for him to ask you to move. “You’re going to stay awake all night with me?”

“Mm-hm.” You were already curled up with your eyes closed. “I’m all yours.”

A small, accepting smile formed on his features as he tried to ignore the sting of your words – wondering whether you had any idea of the impact such a small, meaningless statement would have on him. Wondering whether you would ever actually mean it. He covered you fully with the blanket and went back to his post.

Zoro wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he could start to see the sun breaking. You had shuffled a few times causing him to glance over, but now you had his full attention.

“Zoro...mmm.”

Hairs stood on the back of his neck. You still weren’t moving, still in your bundles of blankets and pillows but you were talking. Not just talking. Talking about him.

“Th-there’s good.”

He shouldn’t be watching this. Hearing this. He should leave you to it. But he shouldn’t leave his post. Fuck. Why did you have to do this here? His mind was racing – surely this was just because you were here and he was here. It didn’t mean anything. Didn’t mean anything at all. Unless. Did you think about it? Fuck, did he even want you to think about it? Wait, yes. Obviously that was a yes. Fucking hell.

“Ah-fuck. Zoro…”

He picked up his weights again.

Fuck.

[catnipaddictt]

Hi! Could I request an Anakin X reader where Anakin sees that reader hasn’t been sleeping and he tries to help?

anakin x gn!reader

wc: 0.8k

cw: none! fluff, spooning

comment: sorry this took a while to finish! hopefully it's kinda what you had in mind!

Rolling over, your eyes focus on the moonlight streaming through the window. You haven’t been sleeping well, or at all for the past week. You were so tired but your body refused to let you sleep. Your nights all seemed to drag on forever and no matter how hard you focused or how long you shut your eyes, nothing was happening. 

You shove the covers off of yourself, lying here was useless and you had already been trying for hours. Checking the clock, you find it's only 2am. The rest of the jedi would be tucked up and well asleep by now. Placing your feet on the hard ground, you stand up, grabbing your Jedi cloak and wrapping it around yourself. You slowly pad over to the door, slipping on your boots and unlocking it. You head down the silent halls in search of a balcony door. Seeing that all are shut you find a large window with a bench against it. 

You nestle yourself against one of the pillars the window sits between, wrapping your cloak around your knees. You watch the skyline of Coruscant as the hundreds of speeders and other transports pass by. The lights of the skyscrapers illuminate the sky, night never feels dark on the city planet. 

You are so focused on the view out the window, that you don’t sense the presence of another appearing behind you. You also jump out of your skin as the person speaks your name in a hushed voice. “When was the last time you slept?” 

You turn around to be met with the face of Anakin Skywalker. Like you he was wearing what you assumed were the clothes he slept in. His soft sweatpants sit perfectly on his hips and his shirt clings to his muscular form in all the right places. He looks at you softly, waiting for you to reply.

“I was asleep before” you lie through your teeth. Truth be told, you admired Anakin a lot. Although he was the CEO of thinking before he acted, you had grown close to the chosen one.

“Don’t lie, it's not the Jedi way” he teases, causing you to glare at him. “I heard you open and close your door, and I'm pretty sure I also heard it yesterday, and the day before, and the day bef-” He counts on his fingers before looking at you accusingly. You think before answering honestly.

“I just haven’t been sleeping well the past week, that's all” you respond, trying to sound like it doesn’t bother you much. Anakin raises an eyebrow at you, “have you been sleeping at all?” His blue eyes burn into your own.

The shadows cast from the walls bathe him half in darkness, half in the light from the city outside. His features suddenly seem a lot sharper than they look in the daylight, and the dark robe he wears doesn’t help. You shrug at his question. “So that's a yes then?” His rhetorical question makes you look back outside at the speeders traveling past. 

“Come on” he says before he grabs your hand, making you turn around before he pulls you to your feet. “Anakin, where are we going?” you question as he drags you down the hall. He pushes open a door, leading you to discover that he has brought you to his room. Looking around, you notice that it is very him. His clothes hung half-hazardly over a chair, and a pile of books in the middle of the floor. A blueprint and selection of tools accompany the books.

He shrugs off his own cloak, before pulling yours off your shoulders and hanging it up beside your. “Anakin what-” you are cut off by him leading you to his bed and gently pushing you down onto the soft covers. “I’m trying to help you” He replies as if you have any clue what that means. He lifts the covers for you, ushering you under them. You comply still confused. He moves around to the other side of the bed, climbing in himself.

Before you can fathom what he is talking about you feel his arms pull you towards his chest, rolling you over so your back is to him. If you weren’t shocked at the movement you might have realised that he was so, so warm and his arms wrapped around you felt right. 

“Why?” is all you question him. He speaks softly and you can feel his breath against your neck, “to help” he repeats his previous statement. “Now shut your eyes.” You don’t know why you follow his instructions, but you seal your eyes closed, feeling the rhythmic movement of his chest against your back. 

Slowly but surely, you feel yourself getting tired and your mind begins to slip into unconsciousness. You could feel Anakin also begin to fall asleep behind you, his head tucked against your neck. Eventually you fall into a deep slumber, your first in too long, against the unexplainable cure for your insomnia - Anakin Skywalker

sorry for any grammar errors!

Taglist: @heartsforanakin @qvnthesia

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 6

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, baby fever, fluff!, typos, etc.

A/N: i said i'd end this on p5 but i think i'll be ending at p7 HAHHAH lol. originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1

"My lady," followed by high pitched barking made me turn around from where I sat in the garden.

Maester Yannick was walking over to me, with three puppies on his trail. He lifts his robe when he feels one of the critters nip at it. He hisses at them and tells them not to bite. Rose barks and takes it as a challenge.

I chuckle and shush her, raising a finger as I bend down to reinforce the discipline.

Rose looks at me then scurries off.

I straighten up on the bench as Yannick sits beside me. We both then turn to the soldiers in the making, training across the grounds of Brown Wood.

The Hound barks at them when they get their positions wrong.

"He is lovely today," Yannick tells me.

I turn to him and chuckle, but nod nonetheless.

He continues observing my husband, "he's been training long, hasn't he?"

"Mmm. Perhaps a couple hours," I look back at Sandor, "why? Do you think it is bad for his wounds?"

"I think it is bad for you," he looks at me.

I pull my head back, "me?"

The maester stands, "you are wasting precious time. Both of you are in good conditions," he links his hands together, "for the good of your house, it would be wise for you to be more... vigilant about producing heirs."

I feel my face drop and burn.

"As you know, my lady, the herbs I make for you are not cheap. It would be a shame to put them to waste due to a lack of effort."

I clear my throat and turn away from him.

Maester Yannick nods, "which reminds me, I will go and fetch you some tea right now."

I watch him walk away.

Once he was gone, my attention is averted back to Sandor. In truth, now more than ever has his hound persona been more apparent to me. Besides his fierceness, his snarling, his grit, the way he bared his teeth and howled at everyone, I could see his loyalty, his need to do good by the people in his life, his protectiveness, especially when it came to fighting, and his warmth.

I begin to think about Daisy. I turn to my side and watch as the pups begin to wreck the garden with their paws.

I find myself thinking about that night... that night when he said he loved me.

I rub my belly, not liking the way my stomach churned at my string of thoughts.

I watch as Sandor straightens up a boy, who was about to fall flat on his face, with one hand. He shakes his head at the child and says he can't fight if he's fighting himself too.

I imagine him speaking the same way to our son.

It was a horrible mistake. As quickly as I thought of it, I then remember telling him to give me a child by another woman.

I've set him free. He does not belong to me; in truth, he never did.

I quickly stand and wipe my face.

This was no longer leisure, this was torture.

I quickly run inside, retreating to my bedroom. Once I am there, I takes my shoes off, plop on my bed, and stare up at my ceiling. I look at the cobwebs in the distant corners and I wonder why I felt like crying but had no tears to shed. I lie there in silence, wishing nothing but to waste away.

I lift my head up from the sheets and turn to the door when I hear it open. I immediately stand and brush my skirts, "Sandor."

The feel of the cold floor on my bare feet send a shiver down my spine.

Sandor cautiously looks at me, "is everything alright?"

"Mmm?" I raise my brows, "what- why do you ask?"

"You ran inside and left your babes in the garden"

My lips part at his words. My hand instinctively comes to my belly.

"Pups," he raises a hand, "I meant pups. I didn't mean--"

Sandor is cut off by the voice of maester Yannick calling my name as he knocked on my door. Sandor opens the door for him and the old man enters, smiling when he sees the two of us. He is about to hand me the tea but then decides otherwise and puts it on my vanity.

He turns to Sandor, "I am pleased you decided to attend to your wife. Her fertility herbs are slowly being depleted. I was beginning to fear it would be for naught."

I grow frigid.

With that, the maester nods and exits, "please do enjoy each other's company."

The sound of the door closing leaves me red in the face. I lock eyes with Sandor then look away, clearing my throat. I flinch when he calls out my name.

I turn back and rub my arms, "yes... husband?"

"I didn't come here for that," he mutters, raising a hand cautiously.

My chest tightens. Of course not. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off before I could make a sound.

"I came to check if you're alright," he slowly steps forward.

I tense and nod, "I am well."

I feel my heart race when he takes another step towards me.

"Y-you needn't worry about me."

"I always worry about you," he mutters as he walks closer.

My words catch in my throat, "what?"

"Let me help you," he speaks, now only a few steps away from me.

My heart is pounding. I step back slowly, "h-help?"

"In the way only a man can," he lets out a heavy breath.

My calves hit the bed. I stop in my tracks and stand frozen. The Hound is now looking down at me. I am too overwhelmed by his presence to do anything else but stare.

The next thing I know, my gaze is drawn downward as he sits on the bed and peers up at my form.

"If you want a child from me," he whispers, "I'll give you one by no other woman but you." 

I look at him, heart in my mouth, body burning. I scratch my fingers and nod at his words.

Sandor sighs, "I need to hear you say it."

"I-" I shakily speak, "I want a child," I face him, "a child by you... my lord."

His brows knit.

My breath hitches when he touches my waist.

I can hear his heavy breathing as he whispers, "Sandor. Please."

I gulp as his palm rubs slowly across my belly. The action makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. My hand comes atop his. I oblige, "Sandor."

He gently tugs me in between his legs and my breath nearly escapes me. He rests his hands on my hips then pulls me in, sinking his face into my side. My ribs rattle with how quick my pulse was.

Sandor inhales deeply, "gods, you smell good."

I feel my body burn, "i-it's lavender oil."

I squeak when he pulls me down onto his lap. He cages me against him, my back flush against his chest. He sinks his face into my neck and slowly draws in a breath. His arms snake around me as he hotly speaks, "it's you, my pretty squirrel."

I feel his hands slowly lift my skirts up. My hands latch onto his arm that was still around my belly.

"Be calm, my wife, I cleaned up before coming here, in case I had to wipe your tears."

I make a sound as he knocks his nose into my jaw and exposes one of my legs to him. 

"I don't like it when you're upset."

My breath hitches, "I-I'm not upset."

"Good."

Sandor feels the goosebumps on my skin when his hand makes contact with my bare thigh. He shushes me as he rubs and kneads my flesh. I whimper and begin to squirm when his hand hikes up my inner thigh.

His fingers touch my clothed center. He breathes hotly against the pulse of my neck, "I'm going to take this off, mmm?"

I gulp and nod slowly at his words.

I maneuver with him when his hands come under my skirts to rid me of my smallclothes. He doesn't like the space that is created between us and rips me back into him. He ruts his hips into mine to add to his point.

I whine when Sandor's right hand rubs into my heat.

"Fuck," he hisses, "you've worked yourself up over nothing."

I make a louder noise when he prods his fingers into my pulsing entrance. I can feel his fingers slide with ease against my warm folds. I instinctively grip his arm when he sinks into me.

Sandor's other arm, in turn, tightens around me, "you can take it. You've taken more than my fingers, beautiful."

I whimper when he sinks another finger into me and begins to pump in and out. My breathing grows heavier and I throw my head back on his shoulder as he moves into me.

I feel his beard scratch into my neck. I feel his teeth graze lightly into my skin. His fingers languidly move in and out of me, even as I clench my thighs together. He makes no move to part them, and in truth, it doesn't hinder his movements at all.

I feel his tongue dart out on my neck, "I want to taste you."

I slowly lift my head from his shoulder just as he pulls his hand away from my thighs and brings his fingers into his mouth. I feel sobered by his action, taken aback by how filthy it was yet how eagerly he did it.

The next thing I know, he pulls back and lets my body fall in a space between his thighs. He quickly undoes his trousers. After, he pushes me onto my feet, and grips my hips. He rather impatiently rips up my skirts and I feel my thighs shake when he grips my bare flesh.

He pulls me back down on him, and I mewl when I feel his hardened length slip clumsily between my thighs, not yet entering me. I settle on him; the sensation of his clothes on my skin makes my belly roll.

"Fuck," he growls, as my thighs instinctively clamp around him. Sandor is unable to withhold the bucking of his hips.

When he does this, pleasure, crackling like embers, tingle up my body.

"Open up," he hisses, one hand coming between my legs, "I have to be inside you. I have to come inside, have to come inside your weeping cunny."

"Sandor," I whine as I slowly part my legs.

"I know, pretty squirrel. You're so worked up, for me," he breathes against my ear then nips at my lobe, "so fucking eager."

A drawn out whine escapes my lips when he sheathes himself into me.

He wastes no time in moving. I end up squeaking as he braces me against him and firmly thrusts upward into me.

My cries grow louder as his arms tighten beneath my breasts. I feel his hand knead one breast, but it doesn't last very long.

I am throttled onto my chest and pressed down on the sheets. Sandor lifted me up like I was nothing and adjusted me on the edge of the bed.

I'm barely on my tiptoes, as most of my weight was shifted on my spine from of how my husband was hoisting me up to cater to himself.

His movements quickly pick up the pace, and our position becomes reminiscent of the time he had me like this once before, only this time, his one hand was rubbing my scarred hip and he was much more vocal.

"Look at you, all bent over and mine," he groans.

I nails dig into the sheets.

"I'm gonna fill you up. You're going to be so fucking full of me."

I squeal into the sheets. The idea drives me wild. I plead into the bed but I don't think he hears it.

Just as I felt something begin to build in me, he slows.

I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them as Sandor drops one of my hips. I squeak when I feel him grab my shoulder and slowly turn me on my back.

My jaw drops; I breathe heavily through my mouth. Sandor looks down on me as his hands grip my sides. He pushes me upward and presses my legs by my ribs

He slowly thrusts into me, hands working their way across my body. He rubs my thighs, my belly, my breasts. His brows furrow, "fuck. So fucking soft and warm."

He massages my breasts then works his way up to my shoulders. His one hand rubs my neck before clutching my jaw. His other hand slides back down my hips. I whine when his thumb rubs circles around my sensitive nub. It makes my toes curl.

He sighs, "so fucking beautiful."

I whimper when his other thumb swipes my lips. I find myself licking at it. It makes him groan and buck into me faster.

I push my head back and arch my spine, "fuck- Sandor."

Both his hands land on my hips. He digs his nails into my flesh and begins to move deeper. Eventually, he sinks one hand down by the side of my head for support. My hands latch onto his hips.

"Come for me, pretty girl," he groans, "I'm not gonna last much longer."

I tug at his clothes.

"Be a good girl and come all over my cock, mmm. I want to feel you tighten around me-- get all messy and wet and loud and," he gives deliberate thrusts, "so fucking beautiful."

I whine, "Sandor, I want- I want to-"

I begin to tighten and shake against him. My legs wrap around him and my hands cling onto him for dear life. I find it futile to conceal my sounds, as I cannot find the strength to shut my mouth as I ride the feeling of bliss.

With a loud cuss, Sandor rams into me as deeply as he can. His movements are rough and slow. Both of his hands secured on my waist as he spills his seed into me.

I can feel him throb and can feel myself dripping with warmth.

Sandor takes his time, really drawing out the feeling before slowly coming to a halt. He lets out a final moan when he does stop then takes a deep breath.

I look at him as he closes his eyes and straightens up. My body burns when he looks down at me through hooded eyes and rubs my body again. He enjoys rubbing my breasts the most.

My hands come to his arms, and that seems to stop him.

I am about to tell him not to stop, but he speaks before I can, "wrap your legs round me."

In truth, I didn't have to do anything as he wraps my legs around himself and picks me up in his arms. I hook my feet around each other and am careful not to touch his blistered back as my hands go to his shoulders.

Sandor crawls up the bed with me clinging onto him; I feel the strength in his muscles as he moves. He sets me down on the pillows. He arranges one under my head and brings one beside me.

He looks at me for a moment then whispers, "I'm going to pull away now."

He waits for me to respond before doing anything.

In truth, the thought of him pulling away from me makes my body ache with sadness, but I slowly nod anyway.

I close my eyes as Sandor gently draws away from me. My emotions immediately overcome me in my vulnerable state. I rub my eyes when I feel tears build behind my lids. Sandor fixes my skirt and gathers my legs together. I feel him take the pillow beside me and stuff if bellow my bum.

"This will help keep my spend from dripping out."

His explanation makes my body burn.

I feel Sandor shuffle beside the bed and I hear him fixing his clothing.

I clench my jaw, dreading what I knew exactly was to come next.

I open my eyes when he calls my name. I look at him pathetically, noticing how his skin glowed with sweat, the last evidence that he was ever in me beyond his untucked shirt.

He reaches out to me and I really don't want to take his hand knowing he'll leave me after, so I don't.

I have no idea why he still grabs my hand. The action feels like a betrayal. He rubs my knuckles before kissing them. I chew my lip, feeling wronged over the fact he has never kissed my lips and probably never will.

"I will be leaving now," he mutters.

His words gut me, as always. 

I rip my hand out of his and turn away from him, "very well."

Sandor knits his brows at the sharp withdrawal. He was gentle was he not? Still, he's being turned away.

His mouth goes dry. He slowly steps back, "I..."

I turn my body away from him. I draw in a deep breath and try to make my voice as even as possible, "thank you, Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He steps back some more, "I-I'll bring your dogs here for company."

I chuckle dryly. Company. My voice breaks, "I'm tired."

Sandor's mouth twitches. He backs all the way up to the door, "I'll let you rest then."

I cover my face with my arm and hum in agreement, not trusting myself to speak anymore.

The moment I hear the click of the door, I begin to sob. I whine as his words replay in my head. How could he tell me such things, call me beautiful and say he wants me, then leave me right after? How could he touch me like that then want nothing to do with me?

I pull the pillow from underneath my head and wail into it.

Sandor, who couldn't find it in himself to step away from the door, decides not to walk back in when he hears the crying. His belly curdles with self-loathing. He feels like he's going to choke because of how hurt the noise sounded, nevermind how lovely it was seconds ago; it meant for nothing.

He walks away trying to figure out where he went wrong. He relives every touch, every sound in his memory. His eyes water when he comes to the dreadful realization it must have been horrible being with him. He forced his wretched looks onto an unwilling witness.

He gulps as he sniffles and wipes his face in frustration. He feels like walking into the forest, never to be seen again, but then he steps out to the garden and hears small barking sounds. He looks at the three pups, playing with the boys, who should have been training, and feels his heart twist.

He finds himself imagining what the scene would've been like if Daisy was here... if his pretty squirrel-- he shuts the thought away.

I knock on Sandor's office door and enter when he tells me to come in.

He looks up, does a double take, then immediately stops doing whatever it was he was doing. He clears his throat, "Lady Clegane."

His words pierce through me. He's never called me that before. I close the door and walk towards him, "Lord husband. Good morrow to you. Where is Andrew?"

His shoulders tense, "he... should be here any minute."

I nod as I halt in front of his desk, "he has gotten good enough at reading and balancing coin, I hope?"

Sandor sighs, "yes."

I notice the crumbs on his beard, then I notice a plate on his desk. He must have broken fast here. I fidget with my fingers and wipe my chin, hoping he would get the message. He doesn't. I decide not to note on it and simply get to the point, "maester Yannick said your wounds have dried up, and that if you liked, you could go on your rounds again."

Sandor nods and straightens in his chair, "I think I'll start once I'm confident in the bloke balancing our coin."

I nod slowly and link my hands together, "alright," I shift in my spot and turn to the door.

I look back at him and feel my body burn under his scrutiny. I offer a smile, "that is all I wanted to say," I rub my hands together, "-wanted to check on you."

I gasp when he jumps out of his chair.

I clutch my chest and stare at him. He had an arm raised and reached out to me. It dawns on me he said something but it was too quick for me to catch.

I release a breath, "pardon?"

Sandor lowers his hand, rolls his shoulders back, and clears his throat, "I... I asked how you're doing."

It takes me a few moments to realize the meaning of his words. I shift and my spot and rub my chest. I feel my neck burn when he further clarifies his question.

"Yesterday, when we... bedded, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

I draw out a deep breath and smile softly, "you were... gentle with your touches."

Sandor is unsatisfied.

I aimlessly look around, "and, anyway, I am not as fragile as you think."

He purses his lips and tilts his head. He takes a moment before speaking, and when he does, he does so hesitantly, "I was afraid I made my pretty wife weep again."

I instinctively let out a laugh, but it was clearly unamused and pained. I feel like I was being scorched alive when I look at him looking at me. I shake my hands, suddenly in denial, "no, I was quite satisfied!"

Sandor's eyes widen a fraction.

Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. What am I saying?

He blinks twice and wipes his mouth. Finally his crumbs fall off. He mutters, "that's... good."

I release my final chuckle. He turns to his desk, fixes some things, then looks back to me. He looks like he means to smile but he doesn't, "I'm glad."

He slowly sits down afterwards.

I feel like I'm being weighed down by anchor.

That was it. That was the conversation.

Sandor is no longer looking at me. He shuffles the paper into a file and I slowly begin to feel the air around us thicken.

He sets the parchment down and darts his eyes to me. He purses his lips again and I catch the way his face twitches. He opens his mouth and slowly points to the door, "if that's all... I would not keep you."

I don't know why I laugh again, but I do. It's not even funny. I feel like being stabbed would have been better, more amusing at this point. I curtsy at him and shuffle backwards, "of course. I do not mean to keep you either."

Sandor feels sick. He clenches his fists and turns to his desk. He breathes in deeply, trying not to rile himself up any more than he already was. Gods knew he would use all his strength to keep this room locked.

I walk towards the door and turn the knob. I feel a wave of tears threatening to spill, and I slap my mouth when a squeak leaves me.

Sandor is immediately alerted. He looks up and pushes himself on the edge of the seat, "what?"

I turn to the ground and wipe my face. I take two seconds for myself then turn to him. I cover up with a chuckle, "I said... y-your beard."

Sandor immediately rubs his beard.

I chuckle louder, trying to convince myself that I actually found it funny, "you have crumbs on your beard."

Sandor looks at me like I grew another head.

I laugh enough that I actually start laughing at myself.

When I stop, the silence is loud.

Sandor clears his throat and cautiously asks, "you find that funny?"

My stomach drops when I see the red tinge of his ears. I walk up to his side and shake my head, "wait, no- I- I didn't mean it like that."

Sandor shakes his head and offers me a quick and small smile, "it's fine. I just wasn't expecting that from you," he looks back to his desk, "anyway, I'm used to it."

I feel like my entrails were being grinded.

A line forms in his brows, "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"I wasn't laughing at you!" I whimper under my breath. The air in my lungs begin to catch in my throat as I exhale, "I was just- I ju-"

Sandor turns to me, face slipping when he catches my teary eyes.

He stands and takes my shoulders.

I blink my tears away and smile in an attempt to calm myself. I am glad I do not shed a tear. I speak through a loud breath, "I'm just nervous when I'm around you!"

Sandor immediately releases me. He sighs through his nostrils, "scared, you mean."

I shake my head and take his shoulders, "nervous."

The Hound seizes up like there was a knife to his neck. I take a moment to look at him and pull back.

I cannot deny it hurt when he immediately steps away from me.

I really should have left at this point, but my mouth had a mind of its own. I furrow my brows and give him an earnest look, "I can trim your beard for you."

He steps back one last time, then looks at me as if I now had three heads.

I realize my mistake, "if-if you want me to. I'm not saying you should, I'm just offering to-"

"You want to do that for me?"

I turn to stone. I look around nervously, "mmm... o-only if you'd have it... ... my lord."

Sandor's face twitches. He sighs and slumps forward. He furrows his brows, "you'd be staring at my face the whole time."

I watch him as he rummages through his things.

My stomach rolls again and I step back, "ah... I see."

Sandor stops to look at me.

"If you do not feel comfortable, I will not..."

My words run dry when he pulls out shears. I watch him as he straightens up. He grips the tool in his hand, "it's you I'm worried about."

I look up at him, not knowing what to say.

"I don't mean to scare yo-"

"I'm not scared of you," I mutter.

Sandor stares at me. After a moment, he slowly takes my hand and hands me the shears, "maybe you should be."

My chest pounds at fleeting touch.

I cut his beard in the garden, as I didn't want to make a mess in his office.

He sits on the bench there.

The breeze blows at both our hair.

"You needn't touch me so gently, girl," he says, "it will take a lot of you to hurt me."

I do not change the manner in which I touch his cheek. I can feel Sandor looking at me, but I do not avert my attention away from his beard, "just because you do not hurt easily doesn't mean I cannot be gentle with you, Hound."

The Hound reaches out to my thighs when my foot rolls on a rock. I barely even fidget, but, still, he holds me in place to keep me from a potential fall. He does not release me. I gulp when I feel his thumb rub my skirt.

"You can hurt me if you like," he says.

I pull back and furrow my brows, "would you like that?"

He grinds his lower lip in his teeth. He debates for a moment and I decide to snip his mustache. I shush him when he tries to speak. He purses his lips tightly.

A moment passes with just the sound of cutting.

"I wouldn't want to cut your lips off," I shift in front of him, still ever so aware of his touch of my thighs, "you still need them to kiss."

I pull away to check if his mustache was straight. I notice his expression, dumbfounded, and continue snipping. I sigh, "that was a jest."

I pull away and again and move to the other side. Sandor still keeps his hands on me. He looks at me as I gently move his head.

I add, "I'm quite funny actually."

He chuckles lowly.

It makes my heart flutter.

He smiles, "oh, I don't doubt it, little girl."

I flatten my lips into a line, unsure if he was serious or not. I trim the hair by his jaw.

"You must like kissing then."

I freeze in my spot. I stop what I was doing, then continue, "what do you mean?"

He pulls his hands away. I watch him link them together and rest them on his lap. He shrugs, "you thought of kissing."

"Do you like kissing?"

I place a hand on my hip. He turns to me and shrugs again, "s'fine."

I furrow my brows and mimic his shrug, "well, you've never kissed me, so I wouldn't really know, would I?"

"You've never kissed a man before?"

"No," I impatiently respond, "I've kissed you, but you did not kiss me back," I take a few last cuts off his beard, "on our wedding day, remember?"

I see Sandor's look of disbelief when I finish and brush him off. Specks of hair fly off with the wind.

"You never kissed a little lord in secret as a little girl?"

"Only a big lord," I make a face, "as according to you I still am a little girl."

He stands from where he sat and peers down at me.

I purse my lips and cross my arms. I shrug, "point taken."

His brown eyes glimmer with confusion. I find myself raising my brows. Just as he is about to speak-

"MILORD, MILADY!"

We turn to the three young men walking over to us. I recognize them as Sandor's training apprentices. They push each other as I turn and smile at them.

"Good morn', lady!" Harry says, bowing exaggeratedly at me, "your dress is very rambunctious."

I furrow my brows at his words and find myself chuckling, "uhhh, thank you?"

Sandor raises his brows and curls his lips.

Daniel slaps Harry behind the head, "YOU MUG, D'YA KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, EVEN?"

Harry hisses and shoves Daniel, "DON'T HIT ME!"

Daniel gets shoved again when he incidentally elbows Richard, "OI, WATCH IT!"

The boys begin to quarrel. 

I step back before they can accidentally hit me, in turn, knocking my back into Sandor's.

"Enough!" the Hound barks, making the three brothers, or at least they acted like that, stop and turn to him.

My eyes widen at the sound of the Hound telling the boys off. I watch each of them tense as their Lord Clegane goes on a whole speech about biting off more than they can chew, and that, "if you lot want to act all tough around me, know I'll knock all three of your egg-heads with my hands tied."

I turn to the Hound, "Sandor."

He lets out a deep breath then eyes the three before him, "fuck off."

The boys immediately scram.

I bend over and grip my hips as I catch my breath. Lucy laughs at me as she beckons the puppies over with a stick. They come running over then she throws the stick for them to chase.

I huff, "these pups will be the death of me."

Lucy snorts, "and here I thought you wanted children."

I glare at her as the three small dark furred creatures begin to chase her around the garden as she runs. I call out in offence, "I do!"

Lucy runs over to me, "well, don't you know babes are far worse that this!" 

She giggles when she grabs my shoulders and uses me as a shield for the dogs. Though I was still winded, I laugh with her as the puppies prance around me. I grab Lucy's arm and begin to wrangle with her, "at least my babes will learn to speak. These pups know no sense!"

Lucy pushes me forward, encouraging me, "no, no, go on, s'your time to run, milady!"

I whine, "I really can't, Lucy."

"Oh, come on, lovie, you used to be full of energy! You're actin' as old as maester Yannick."

I hold back a laugh and shoot Lucy a look.

She shoots one back, "what? Did I lie?"

"Girls."

Lucy and I stop and turn to whom spoke. Sandor looks at us the way he always did, scrutinizing and serious.

I straighten up and nod in regard, "my lord."

Sandor sighs and looks away with annoyance. Wind blows his hair, adding effect to his expression. He looks down when the puppies begin to run towards him. They stand on their hind legs, pant, and bark. I swear I saw his exterior break into fondness.

But then he looks at me and it's all gone, "this came for you." He holds out a letter to me between his fingers, "I don't recognize the house sigil."

I walk up to him, smoothening my skirt out, then take the letter. I look at the wax seal for only a second then open the letter.

Sandor watches me raise my brows. He chuckles.

Lucy watches Sandor smile softly before purposefully frowning.

I look up at my husband, "it's from house Alistair."

Sandor's face scrunches up, "never heard of it."

I huff and delay my response to stop the puppies from chewing at the Hound's trousers. Sandor watches as I do this and gently shakes the puppies away. He takes my arm, preventing me from bending down, "I don't mind. They're just pups."

I give him a look, "if I don't stop them now when they're tiny, nothing will stop them when they're big."

Sandor watches as I sternly tell off the puppies and shoo them away. He chuckles at it, but then freezes when Lucy chuckles as well. The two make eye contact. Sandor doesn't have time to react.

"Cedric."

He turns to me, face contorting, "what?"

The puppies run off and Lucy runs along with them. I continue to explain, "Cedric is from House Alistair. You know, the lord that gave us a place to stay. You called him pretty bo-"

"I remember the fucker," he snaps.

I tense.

The Hound's nostrils flare, "what does he want?"

Suddenly, the letter in my hand feels heavy. I shrug, "he's invited us to his nameday celebration."

Sandor scoffs, "you mean he's invited you."

I release a frustrated huff when he begins to walk away. I follow after him and open the letter. I clear my throat and read aloud, "Fair greetings to Brown Wood, the home of House Clegane. May this letter find you in good spirits and health."

Sandor rolls his eyes as he walks back inside. He makes no haste, but I do, in order to keep up with him. I continue, "Seven days from now, I, Cedric Alistair, will be celebrating my--"

"I don't fucking care, little girl," he stops in his tracks and turns to me.

I nearly collide with him, but I gladly don't. I purse my lips and continue anyway, skipping to the part that holds my point, "if the Lord and Lady Clegane be so courteous in taking time out of their day to attend my feast, I would gladly-"

"Do you want to go, squirrel?"

I look up at him, blinking at the sight of his stern expression. I have to say, the omission of the word pretty for his petname made it feel... wrong. I clutch the letter by my belly, "he hosted us, me, Lucy... Daisy, even you, when we had nowhere to go. I think it only proper to attend his nameday to show appreciation and respect."

Sandor's eye twitches. He looks away and sighs.

I chew my lower lip, "he was kind to us, Sandor. I only mean to-"

"Fine," he cuts me off, "but if he touches you," he walks off, "I'm going to kill him."

His statement make my stomach churn. I cannot for the life of me understand what the intent of his words are. I chase after him again, "what if he asks me to dance with him?"

Sandor chuckles dryly, "a fine reason to chop him up."

He stops when I grab his arm. He looks at my hand on his bicep then gives me a look as I say, "you cannot kill him."

Sandor places his hand atop mine, "then don't fucking dance with him."

He squeezes my hand but it is not rough at all. It's gentle and extremely warm. He doesn't even try to pry my grip off, in fact, it's like he was tightening it on hm. My lips part and my body begins to burn.

I then realize when he was close enough for me to feel his breathing that he had been leaning in. I catch the way his eyes dart down to my mouth. I find myself slowly pressing my lips together.

I close my eyes when Sandor comes close to my cheek. I swear I felt my heart leap into my mouth when he pressed his face against mine.

He draws in a deep breath then sighs, "have you ever seen a hound share?"

The silence between us is deafening.

"Hmm?" he hums.

I open my mouth but nothing but mindless sounds leave me.

"I don't even think your pups do that."

My breath catches in my throat when he I feel his beard and his lips press gently against the crook of my neck.

Then the next moment, he releases me and pulls away like nothing happened.

We stare at each other for the longest second of my life. I feel like I'm on fire. What's worse is that I don't think he realizes just how affected I am, or actually... maybe it was good he couldn't tell I was dying inside.

"Still," he nods, "a dog is a dog and I will do as my master commands."

I feel light headed when he walks away.

I clutch my belly and walk to the nearest surface for support. I rub my neck, wondering if that really just happened.

[littleadaline]

Best Kept Hidden [F.L16]

[Brother’s best friend trope]

Warnings: bit of a make-out sesh.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: I have been strugggggling with uni finals… All this work for what..?

—————————————————————

“Grab the popcorn! I’ll be right down. Just gotta grab some blankets.” You yelled out to Aurora.  

Before you could move, the front door opened, revealing a soaked Gavi and Fermín. Gavi cheerfully greeted you, but Fermín’s face fell silent, choosing to dryly greet you with a wave. You waved back, turning your back to him and climbing up the stairs. Despite Fermín being friends with your brother for years, you felt like he never warmed up to you. He often avoided being in the same room alone with you, choosing to leave or put in his headphones. Although, in front of your family, he seemed fine. You always thought that maybe he was a shy kid, but these habits were starting to follow him into adulthood.

“Gavi, Fermín, you guys need to change before you soak the floors. I’ll grab you guys some towels.” You shouted from upstairs. Heading into the bathroom, you grabbed some towels before throwing them from upstairs to the boys. The towels landed with a thud before Gavi grabbed them and handed one to his friend. As for you, you grabbed the blankets before rushing downstairs back to Aurora.

“Nuh uh, I saw you grab a handful of popcorn!” You called out Aurora.

“Hermana, you were taking way too long! I got hungry.” She defended herself, pouting.

The movie ended a few hours later, and you were left lounging in the living room, bored off your mind.

“Chicas!” Gavi interrupted, turning on the light in the living room, earning a groan from both you and Aurora. “Fermín and I had the brilliant idea to go to the arcades. Are you in?” You glanced at Fermín who had a sudden interest in his feet, or more like, his socks.

“Yeah, I’ll just grab my sweater. Are we taking your car?”

“Fermín drove his car here, so we’re gonna take both cars. Ride with whoever you want. We leave in 5 minutes.” Gavi said, putting on his shoes and tying the laces. As you made it to your room, you heard the sound of the front door close behind you. Outside your window, you could hear Aurora and Gavi laugh, although the subject of their conversation was unknown. You grabbed your sweater and applied some perfume before heading back downstairs. Fermín was sitting on the entrance bench, on his phone, legs spread out. You couldn’t lie, he looked good. Especially with his cap and black t-shirt.

“Am I-?” Fermín interrupted you.

“Riding with me? Yeah. Gavi said so.” His tone was slightly off. You weren’t surprised by the lack of warmth, but you were surprised by the rude behaviour.

Not wanting to spend the next 20 minutes being a victim of his grumpy behaviour, you slid yourself between his body and the door before he could open it.

“Go sit.”

“Why are you asking me to sit? We gotta leave.” He said, his voice growing more annoyed.

“We need to talk and we are going to do so before we leave for the arcade.”

Your heard him groan before taking off his shoes and sitting down on the couch. You sent a text to Gavi letting him know you would be leaving later and they could beat you to the arcade. Locking your phone, you shifted your attention back to the grumpy blonde on your couch.

“What is up with you?” You sat down on the other end of the couch.

“Nothin’… Why do you care?” He angrily responded, his gaze avoiding yours.

“I care because you’re my brother’s best friend, and because… I feel like you hate me. All these years and you always have acted like I was a burden in my own house. Goddam. I mean, did I ever do something to you?” You scoffed, sitting further back into the couch.

Fermín crossed his arms on his chest, a tell he had since he was a kid. You knew he wanted to get something off his chest, but something was holding him back.

“No.”

“No? No, what?” You pressed.

“No, I don’t hate you. And no, you never did anything for me to hate you. It’s just…” he sighed defeated. “Forget it. Can we get to the arcade?” He ended the conversation.

You obliged, not wanting to widen the gap between the two of you and soon locked the door behind you before climbing into his car. The drive was cold, not only the weather, but the atmosphere. Neither of you said a word, opting to gaze at the passing streets instead.

From [The Yellow Card Merchant]:

We just made it to the arcade and it’s closed. So we’re gonna head for some drinks instead. I’ll text you the address, please tell Fermín.

“Gavi just texted me to say that the arcade is closed. He and Aurora are heading out for drinks in the same neighborhood. It’s on the same street as the arcade, at the beginning.”

“C’mon man, can just one thing workout tonight?” He lamented.

“I’m sorry…” You mumbled under your breath.

Fermín took off his eyes off the road for a quick second, glancing at your slumped body against the car seat, arms crossed under your chest. His heart tugged at the sight of you. Pulling into the parking, you spotted Aurora and Gavi waiting for you by the door. You jumped out of the car, waiving to your siblings. Fermín was behind you, his attitude slightly better than earlier, a pout still adorning his lips. Making your way into the bar, your eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light. This place hadn’t been updated since the late 90’s based on the decoration, the smell of old cigarettes and sandalwood, and the Green Day poster hanging above the staircase. Aurora led you to a small, round table hidden in the corner of the place.

“Look, they have some arcade games!” She happily exclaimed. “I can finally claim my air hockey queen title back.” She said, Gavi rolling his eyes at her antics. You chuckled, followed by Fermín, who cracked a smile for the first time since your attempted discussion.

“Let’s order! Aurora? Fermín? What are you guys having?” Gavi asked, already knowing you were going to ask for a cola.

“I’m driving back, so anything without any alcohol… actually I’ll just come with you.” Fermín got up from his seat, following Gavi to the bar. You felt like he was avoiding you, avoiding have to talk to you. You turned back to Aurora, not wanting to be seen as a creep for staring down at Fermín.

“Does Fermín seem odd to you?” Aurora choked on her gum, her eyes widening at your question.

“Odd, how?”

“Um… I mean he’s always been cold and distant with me. But…” you sighed. “Promise me you won’t tell Pablo…”.

“I promise. Is Fermín okay?”

“When I went upstairs to change, Fermín was waiting for me downstairs. And when I asked him if I was riding with me, he interrupted me before I could finish and he sounded super annoyed. So I told him to sit on the couch and I tried to ask him why he hated me-”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Aurora interrupted you. “We will talk about it at home. The guys are back.” She nudged you with her elbow.

“One mojito, extra lime. One strawberry daiquiri , and 2 sodas.” Gavi slid the drinks on the table. Fermín sat across you, his gaze glued to the ground, mindlessly sipping on his soda. The conversation gravitated from one subject to another, Fermín not chiming in once. You weren’t the only one who had noticed.

“Fermín? Are you okay hermano? You haven’t talked once.” Aurora spoke up.

“Mh? Yeah, just got…um a lot on my mind. School and football.” He said.

Two other hours had gone by, Gavi and Aurora were battling for the ultimate title of air hockey king or queen… that meant you were sitting at the table with Fermín. You were debating opening a conversation with him when his voice pulled you away from your thoughts. You were tired, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. Fermín noticed this, finally speaking up.

“I’ll drive you home… If you want.”

“What?”

“I said I’d drive you home if you want to. Gavi invited me to sleep over anyways.”

“I’ll grab my stuff and tell Aurora we’re leaving. I’ll meet you in the car.”

Fermín nodded, and went out the door. You found your siblings and quickly briefed them in before giving them a peck on the cheek and heading out. Fermín was waiting for you in the car, his mood more positive from earlier. He unlocked the door from you, taking your bag from you and throwing it in the back seat. Once in your driveway, Fermín parked the car, his eyes lingering on his hand holding yours as he helped you get out. Inside the house, you quickly parted ways, opting to get ready for the night instead of risking a talk with your brother’s best friend.

“I’m… I’m off to sleep Fermín. Do you need anything? Blankets?” You stood in the doorframe of the guest bedroom.

“No, I’m good. Thank you. Sleep tight, Y/N.” He said, his eyes glazing over your silhouette. You noticed a new kindness in his eyes. Unbeknownst to you, you were growing a soft spot for the blonde.

Wishing Fermín goodnight, you made your way back in your room, slipping under the covers for a well deserved night of sleep. As you were falling asleep, you heard the front door open and the giggle of your siblings as they went up the stairs. Aurora was hammered but Gavi was sober enough to get the both of them home. You finally fell asleep, only to be woken up an hour later. Frustrated, you pulled the covers off and sneakily went down to the kitchen for a glass of water. A sniffle coming from the living room stopped you in your tracks. Peeking over, you caught a glance at Fermín’s slumped figure, his arm quickly wiping away the tears.

Grabbing a second cup, you filled it up and brought it to him.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, still standing in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He wiped away more tears.

“You want to talk about it?” You grew concerned.

Fermín shook his head, his body sinking further into the couch. Your mind flashed back to that time when he was 8 and his coach had berated him for a simple mistake. The slumped figure, puffy eyes, and quivering lip made your mind dizzy.

“I… I just want to be held.” He confessed.

You looked back at him, not wasting a second in wrapping your arms around his torso. You felt his breathing slow down, and his heartbeat become more regular.

“Do you want me to pull aw-”

“Please don’t.” He pleaded. “I’ve just been so stressed. With school and wanting to perform well on the first team. I never felt this way before.”

You stayed in a comfortable silence, entangled in each others’ arms until he spoke up again.

“I.. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I just wanted to apologize. I’ve been an asshole to you… for some years now. Truth is, I don’t hate you. I never have.”

“So… Why have you been acting this way with me?” You looked back at him, your eyes getting lost in the beauty of his. “It hurt me to see you walk away, ignore me, for reasons beyond my comprehension.” You confessed.

“Don’t freak out, but when we were younger, I told Gavi that I liked you.” He scratched the back of his neck. ”He blew up at me. Wouldn’t talk to me for days. I mean, we were…8? But I got so scared of losing his friendship that I never brought it up again. I tried distancing myself from you, by being cold and distant. I was hoping that by doing this, you would naturally grow to dislike me, and I wouldn’t have to worry about my crush on you.” He blurted out.

You were shocked, to say the least. Your gaze softened. Your hand reached out for his, slowly wrapping your fingers around his.

None of you dared to say anything, choosing to simply sit in the comfortable silence you had created. After a few minutes processing his words, you broke the silence.

“We have a lot of catching up to do. I’m sorry Pablo was… well, Pablo.” You giggled. “Do you… still feel this way about me? After all these years?”

Fermín simply grabbed your chin before shyly placing a kiss on your lips, waiting for your reaction. Grabbing the back of his neck, you pulled yourself closer, almost straddling him. His lips molded to yours, tongues fighting for dominance. Heavy breathing and soft moans could be heard coming from the room.

“Does this answer the question?” Fermín asked you.

“Absolutely.” You answered, going back for a second kiss.

After a heated make out session, which left you hot and sweaty, you both laid back on the couch, your body laying on top of his. Your head was placed on his chest, while your hand was tracing patterns on his bicep. His right hand was tracing circles on your hip, while his left hand held you closer to him, making sure you didn’t roll away.

“Can we take it slow?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe keep this a secret between us. Without telling Aurora or Pablo.”

“I’m okay with this. I want this to be just us… no external influence. No pressure. Just two teenagers falling in love all over again with one another.”

“Alright preciosa, just the two of us.” He kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening their hold on you, bringing you closer to his chest. “Maybe something did go right tonight.” He smiled to himself.

The two of you fell asleep, waking up a few minutes before your siblings came downstairs.

“Fermín? Y/N? Up already?” Aurora asked you, grabbing an aspiring for her head.

“Yeah, Y/N forgot her bag in my car and I woke up to retrieve it.” He lied through his teeth. “ I’ll hit the shower before breakfast.” Fermín loaded his glass of water in the dishwasher before running upstairs, suppressing the urge to kiss you in front of Aurora. Once he was out of earshot, Aurora whispered to you.

“Next time you want to make out with him, make sure we cannot hear you do so.” She winked before turning her back to you.

[daydream-cement]

Across the Room (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x Reader

Lust at first sight when Jane spots you from across the room.

Author's Note: This is the fourth week of Smutember with @alexusonfire! The prompt was lust at first sight and who better for this prompt than sweet Janey.

You felt her burning gaze on your body all night. You have heard stories of Jane Murstone. Stories of her cruelty... and murmurings of her preference for the fairer sex. These quiet rumors had been told by your past lovers, and from the way Jane was watching you, she must have heard the same stirrings about you.

The party was big enough that no one would notice Jane and you eyeing one another. Her raven hair was pinned back so neatly and her pursed lips would shift ever so slightly when she smirked. She wore a gorgeous red gown - a shade of deep, dark crimson that was certainly clouding your judgment more than the spiked punch.

Your eyes watched her intently through all of her conversations and movements. It wasn’t until an acquaintance broke your train of thought that you lost sight of the beautiful ravenette. When you glanced over your chatty friend’s shoulder, Jane had moved from her earlier spot causing you to shift from foot to foot to search for her. 

A commanding voice from behind startled you from your search for Ms. Murdstone, “Pardon for my intrusion…”

When you spun around to see who was speaking, you had to turn your gaze upwards when you were met with the sight of a chest of a woman covered in crimson fabric. Your eyes traveled her face Your lips parted slightly to suck in a breath - her beauty from up close left you speechless.

Jane’s eyes journeyed over you. Her gaze seemed so critical, but by the glint in her eye you knew she liked what she saw. A smile growing on her lips only further confirmed your suspicions that she had sinful intentions behind her words and movements.

“I was told by a mutual friend that we share a love of needlework.” Jane’s hand rose to rest on your arm, thumb brushing the inside of your elbow, causing chills to run down your spine. “Would you care for a walk?”

“Yes-” Your answer came far too quickly, so you had to deliberately slow yourself down so as to not seem too desperate for her attention. You spoke to Jane before turning to your acquaintance, you gave an apologetic smile, “I would like that very much. Apologies. I’ll see you later, hm?”

Jane held your elbow as she guided you through the crowd, her voice low and thick like honey, “I do love your dress, sweeting. The fit is absolutely divine...”

“This color on you is ravishing, but I could certainly do with less fabric.” You return at a volume low enough for only Jane to hear. 

You knew where this was headed. There would be no grand romance tonight. Jane’s grip on your arm was proof of that. She was only interested in the anatomy that lay under your skirts, and you weren’t opposed to hiking up your dress in some darkened corner for this beautiful ravenette. 

“Such a wicked imagination you have.” Jane growled as she led you away from the dancing and socializing towards a garden dimly lit by lanterns every fifty feet or so. When Jane passed her own acquaintances, she looked from them and then to you with a concerned expression, “Poor child was feeling faint and in need of fresh air.” 

It was hard to act out your fictional illness as Jane’s white lie pleased you greatly. You were able to shoot her friends a sad look before dropping your gaze to the floor so they couldn’t see how pleased you were with your current situation. 

Once out of the manor, Jane tugged at your arm as she strode towards a bench seated against the home in a delightfully darkened area. If you weren't mistaken, you would have nearly a half hour to return to the party lest you are missed and someone were to come looking. 

Jane gestured for you to sit and you did as you were told, grinning widely as she seated herself so your thighs were touching. 

“You seem to have an issue with staring.” Jane chided - her tone seemingly harsh while the smirk on her lips told a different story. 

Your reply was simple, “You are quite beautiful.” 

Jane was pleased with your response as she inched closer, looming over you in a way that made your heart race. Her voice was a low and silky, “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.” 

“I’ve heard stories about you, Ms. Murdstone... of your power over women.” Your words were a question if Jane would do the same to you disguised as a simple statement of fact. You would feel honored to have her slender fingers dip between your thighs to take you to heaven and back. 

Jane’s face inched closer. Her one hand sliding over the back of the bench while the other reached over you to grip the arm rest, effectively pinning you into the corner. “Would you care for a sampling?”

She wasn’t truly asking. Her lips dipped down to yours before you could even respond. You moaned upon contact. Her lips were so incredibly soft and you weren’t but a few seconds into your kiss when Jane’s hands seized your hips and her body shifted to lean against yours. 

The odd angle of your back pressing into the wood would have been more agonizing, but Jane’s hand sliding up your chest over your breast drove you wild. She paused for a moment to cup your breast through your corset, her finger tips gracing the top of your breast where it lay exposed. All of her hand movements preambled something so much more pleasurable and you felt your heat dampening in response. 

Her hand slipped in the waistband of your underwear, her fingers wasting no time dipping into your folds. You sucked in a breath as Jane made contact with your clit while Jane exhaled slowly. “Oh, darling...” 

Your eyes glued themselves to Jane’s face, watching her every expression as her fingers explored your cunt. In an instant her fingers slipped from your heat as she drew them up to her mouth and tasted you with a long overzealous moan. Her eyes focused on yours for an intense moment as her tongue swirled around her digits. She wanted you to see how much she loved your taste. 

“Open.” Jane ordered as she transferred her fingers from her mouth into yours. The taste of yourself was faint, but you were more so aroused with the knowledge that Jane’s saliva was on your tongue. 

Jane watched you with darkened eyes. Her words made you feel as if she would consume you, “I’ve heard about you, darling. A maid and a cook in my home have told me about your wandering hands and talented tongue. When I saw you, I knew I needed to try you out for myself.” 

The ravenette pulled her fingers from your mouth and down they went again to play with your throbbing cunt. She found your clit with ease and began rubbing slow, methodical circles. To silence yourself, you attached your lips to hers - an action Jane accepted happily as her tongue traveled across your bottom lip before swiping across your tongue.

Your mind was clouded from desire. You couldn’t think of anything other than her hand between your legs. Any thoughts of being caught with Jane were absent. 

Her fingers moved faster around your clit. The ravenette knew you were limited on time and she wasn’t looking to extend out the orgasm by teasing you. 

Jane snaked her spare arm around the back of your neck, drawing your body to hers, and all the while her mouth never left yours. Your hips were writhing and bucking against her hand, desperate to come. 

She increased the pressure against your clit and you could hear the faint slick sounds of her fingers working against you. These sensations combined with the sloppy, intense kisses from Jane drove you over the edge. The ravenette swallowed your cries and quickly pulled her hand from your bloomers, not wanting to be seen in such a compromising position. 

Jane pulled away from the kiss and smirked down at you as her fingers pushed past her lips once again. You watched helplessly as she sucked her fingers clean. 

When she was finished she reached out and grasped your cheeks with a hand, tugging you close. With a wide smile, her tongue darted from her mouth and she licked your lips, delighted in the power she held over you. 

“That’s a good pet. We should probably return to the party before some notice our absence.”

“Indeed.” You murmur, slightly disappointed when she withdraws her hand and stands. 

You stood on wobbly legs and followed suit, trailing after her like a love struck puppy. Before you could draw too close to the manor entrance, Jane paused and waited for you. Her demeanor was significantly brighter than when you saw her roaming the party beforehand. 

“Would you care for tea tomorrow afternoon, darling?” Jane whispered, her teeth nipping at your ear. Her hand shifted from the small of your back to palm your ass through your gown. “We could continue our conversation.”

“Sounds divine, miss. I’ll have the opportunity to return the favor.” You coo before leaving a lingering kiss to the corner of her lips and leave her standing in the darkness of the gardens. 

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @scream-queenlover, @mcufanisme, @peanutbutterprincess, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @imlike-so-gaydude, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @dumbasslesbi, @giogwensversion, @milciak, @gela123, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @h-doodles, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic

[justdontaskme]

Turn of the Tides (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A/N: Hello! I’m back with the long awaited sequel to this fic. I feel it’s a bit rusty and a little all over the place, but I also think this is the best it’s going to get. Let me know what you think.

The following morning, you were already up before your alarm had gone off. As soon as the light started peaking through your windows, you were up and your troubled mind had issues falling back asleep. So, you just laid there, wishing that you could shut your brain off long enough to fall back asleep. 

However, that never happened and you continued to mindlessly toss and turn in bed. Before you knew it, more than an hour had passed and your phone’s alarm was blaring in your ears. You glared at the offending item because even if it hadn’t woken you up, it still forced you to face the day ahead of you. 

Quickly, you reached over to shut the alarm off with a grumble as if you were just about to fall back asleep. Letting out a full body sigh, you swiped the black off your body and got out of bed. 

The headache from your night of crying and dehydration was screaming at you as your feet hit the floor. Sluggishly, you willed your feet to move in the direction of the bathroom. When you got there, you stared hard at your reflection, cringing at what was staring back at you. Your eyes were red, dark bags sitting underneath, and your face puffy from the night before. 

For a moment, you considered calling in sick and skipping on practice for the day. No one would bat an eye at the excuse. However, you were determined to put on a façade where nothing was wrong. It had been your choice to lie to your friends. Now you had to live the lie you told. 

With this new determination, you splashed water on your face and got ready for the day. As you walked out of your room a few minutes later clad in your training gear, it wasn't hard to miss the sympathetic looks Lucy and Keira were sending your way. You just sent them a tight lipped smile in return, graciously accepting the piece of toast and banana Keira presented you with. Silently, the three of you headed out of the apartment. 

If you thought getting out of bed was hard, practice was even worse. Not only did you have two couples checking in on you every other second, but you also had to face the girl who rejected you without even knowing you had planned on asking her out in the first place. 

At the beginning, it started with you shyly slipping away whenever the captain tried to join whatever group you were in. Then it quickly became dodging her touches whenever she managed to sneak up on you. Eventually, you forced yourself to talk to her, but even then those conversations were short as your answers were curt.

About halfway through practice, Alexia must have decided to give you some space because she stopped trying to get your attention. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel the weight of her stares from across the field. You fought the urge to turn and try to catch her eyes like you would at most practices. 

Some of your teammates had noticed the growing distance between you and the captain and didn’t know what to make of it. They did their best to act as if nothing was wrong and for that you were grateful. If you had to engage now, then you’d have to explain your odd behavior, and you’d rather not at the moment. 

After training you sat down on the bench, trying to catch your breath as the Barcelona sun beat down on you. You leaned back against the chair, eyes closed as if the bright rays of the Barcelona sunshine could breathe some life into you. 

It was a complete surprise when you felt water splashed on your face, enough to force a small yelp to escape. You brought a hand up to wipe the droplets off your face before facing the accuser. 

When you opened your eyes, you felt a small flutter in your stomach when you saw Alexia standing over you with a small smile on her face. The hopeful look on her face when she caught your attention made you feel a bit guilty with the way you had been treating her today. But then last night came crashing to the forefront of your mind and you immediately dropped your stare to your shoes. 

You missed how her smile had fallen when you broke eye contact, but she tried not to let her bother her as she tried to fix whatever was wrong between the two of you. 

“Are we okay?” Ale asked, sitting down beside you but leaving a decent amount of space between the two of you. “Did I do something wrong?”

You frowned at the assumption. While you were sad and hurt that Alexia was dating again, she hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, you felt as if you were in the wrong for falling for your best friend and making things awkward. 

Feeling guilty when you noticed her downcast expression, you quickly jumped to reassure her, “No, you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling my best right now.”

The way Alexia’s shoulders relaxed at your words made you feel worse. She really must have been contemplating your pulling away all morning. “Is everything okay? Can I do anything to help?”

“I’ll be alright. Just probably need a good night's sleep tonight and I’ll be as good as new,” you answered, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. 

“So you’ll still be okay for dinner tomorrow?”

“Dinner? Did we make plans or something?” you asked, wracking your brain for what you were missing. 

Alexia was shocked. She didn’t think the two of you needed to make plans. It’s almost like tradition at this point. "Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and we always spend it together. I just thought we would this year too."

While a part of your heart fluttered at the assumption that the two of you would be together on Valentine's Day, the wound from last night was still too fresh. 

"You didn't bring it up before," you said, hoping that the implied excuse was in there.

"I didn't think I had to. I thought it was like our thing," Alexia explained. 

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant and hoping that Alexia didn’t notice the way you were toeing your cleats, a nervous habit of yours. "Um, I have plans."

“Plans? What about our Valentine’s Day thing?”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry, I totally forgot,” you lied, fighting the urge to cringe out how it sounded. “But now, maybe you can take that girl you went with on a second date.”

“I told you already, I don’t want to date her.” 

“Maybe you should give her another chance. Alba wouldn’t set you up with someone if she didn’t think you’d like them,” you reasoned. 

You weren’t sure why you were trying to push Alexia into the other woman’s arms, when all you wanted to do was pull her close. Maybe it had something to do with just wanting her to be happy. Maybe if she moved on you could too. Or maybe it was something else entirely. 

Alexia bobbed her head as if she was contemplating the idea, “That’s true, but I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything when we were out. She’s nice, but I don’t think she’s the one for me.”

“You never know. Maybe she was just nervous. Give her a call,” you told her, standing up and gathering your things as you walked away before she could say anything. 

****

Later that day, Alexia was wandering around the city, feeling a little lost in the place she called home. Somehow in the last 24 hours, you and her had just hit a rough patch out of nowhere. She’d never felt like she couldn’t talk to you, yet today it felt like you wanted to be anywhere she wasn’t. 

In need of some good company who could help her make sense of this whole mess she found herself in, she made her way to her friend’s apartment. Mapi didn’t seem too surprised to see the captain and immediately let her in. 

Before even sitting down, Alexia is turning to her friend, "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"Nothing special. It's whatever Ingrid wants to do," Mapi answered. “I usually let her decide and then follow along. It’s easier that way.”

Alexia nodded her head in thought, "I have reservations at Martina's. It's yours if you want it."

"Why am I not surprised that La Reina has reservations for Martina's?" Mapi joked, playfully knocking Alexia's shoulder with her own. "Your special date fell through?"

Alexia shrugged, "I was going to take Y/N, but she had plans."

"You were going to take Y/N?" Mapi clarified, wanting to make sure she heard correctly. Alexia nodded, nonchalantly, not even noticing the look of surprise on Mapi's face. "On Valentine's Day? Like on a date?"

Alexia's head snapped up to face Mapi, "I never said it was a date. We just always hang out on Valentine’s Day together since we aren’t seeing anyone. I thought it’d be nice to go."

Mapi shook her head, “Madre mia! It may have been some time since you’ve dated someone, Ale, but in case you didn’t know, taking someone to dinner at a nice restaurant on Valentine’s Day could be considered a date.”

When Mapi put it that way, Alexia could understand how it could come across to anyone else. It did sound like a date. While Martina was a nice restaurant that people would fight to eat at, it was more than that to you and Alexia. 

You and Alexia had stumbled across the small and intimate restaurant when it was just starting out. The two of you were instantly hooked on the food and the homey atmosphere of the place, frequenting the restaurant very often, even though it struggled to stay afloat at the beginning. 

On slow days, the two of you were able to meet the chef/owner of the restaurant, quickly becoming friends. It was bewildering when you found out they were in financial trouble and were considering shutting down. 

Wanting to help, the two of you would recommend the restaurant to friends and family, easily creating a steady stream of regulars for Martina. Word spread and soon the restaurant was flourishing, seating full capacity for dinner most nights. It was a well kept secret amongst the locals and very few visitors had the privilege of trying such a place.  

Grateful for your friendship and help, Martina always made sure to have a table available for you two whenever you wanted. Now, with the place bustling with business, the two of you tried to keep your visits from being excessive, allowing more people to find the joy in the food and the safe space Martina was offering. It then became a place you and Ale would dine at for special occasions or when one of you really had a strong craving for one of the chef’s specials. 

It had been a little while since the two of you had visited, and Ale thought it would be the perfect time to go. She never took the moment to consider the underlying meanings. 

“I didn’t think of it that way,” Alexia said, but even as the words came out, she didn’t fully believe them. While you and Alexia had been spending Valentine’s Day together for the past few years, it was usually with takeout and a movie on the couch. 

When Alexia had called Martina for a table on Valentine’s Day, she hadn’t really thought about why. It just felt like the right thing to do. In hindsight, she should have realized that it came from this shift between the two of you since her birthday. 

Neither of you had talked about the kisses shared that night, but it was obvious that things felt different between the two of you. Touches were more bold, distance was almost nonexistent when standing together, tension was heavy. Yet, you both were waiting for the other to make a move. 

In the back of her mind, Alexia knew she wanted things to be special. And to her, special was reliving all the beautiful moments with you that she shared at that specific restaurant you both thought of so fondly. 

"Do you like Y/N, Ale?" Mapi asked, her voice startling the captain out of her thoughts. 

"I don't know," Alexia admitted, staring down at her hands to avoid Mapi's gaze. “Maybe.” Mapi’s raised eyebrow was unnerving, “I think I do.”

“If you like her then why did the two of you decide to be just friends?”

Alexia literally did a double take, “What do you mean ‘decide’ to be just friends? We’ve always been friends.” 

Mapi’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion as she processed Alexia’s statement. Slowly, the blonde defender started piecing everything together. Seeing her friend’s face holding so much sadness, confusion, and desperation to understand, made her sigh. “My friends are idiots,” the defender muttered under her breath. 

"Mapi, what’s going on?” Alexia demanded, getting into Mapi’s face so she could press her for answers. 

“Okay, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I think you really need to know,” Mapi sighed, preparing for the long conversation she’s been waiting to have with her friend since she first thought you two had feelings for one another. 

****

When there was a knock on the door, you were more than happy to ignore it and hope that the person would go away. Lucy and Keira weren’t returning to the apartment tonight and you definitely weren't expecting anyone. So, you sank back into the couch and tried to enjoy your show. 

However, the knocking was insistent. Just when you thought the person had given up, it started up again. Feeling as if the only way they'd get the hint was for you to tell them off, you begrudgingly got off the couch. 

You grumbled to yourself as you trudged to the door, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders. Without even checking beforehand, you flung the door open, ready to tell whoever was behind it to leave. 

To say you were surprised to find Alexia standing on the other side would be an understatement. You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself. 

“Ale? What are you doing here?”

“Mapi told me your plans fell through, so I thought I’d surprise you,” Alexia said, holding up a bag of food labeled Martina’s, “I brought some of your favorite.”

At that moment, your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you had forgotten dinner yet again. Looking back at Alexia, you could see her trying to contain a giggle, and it brought a soft smile to your lips. 

Reluctantly, you stepped back and opened the door wider, letting the other woman into your apartment. With a triumphant grin, Alexia strolled inside, immediately heading over to the living room and unboxing all the food she had ordered onto the coffee table. 

As you took a seat next to the other woman, you were internally cursing Mapi for getting involved. The defender knew you didn’t actually have plans and just wanted to use the day to wallow and grieve a relationship that never happened. And now Alexia was here in your apartment on one of the most romantic nights of the year. Mapi must have set this up. 

“You didn’t have to do this, Ale,” you told her, sinking back into the couch. 

“But I wanted to,” she said, heading to the kitchen for some plates and silverware. “Is this okay, or should I go? I don’t want to overstep.”

Hearing Alexia worry about overstepping made you realize that for the first time you two were tiptoeing around one another. You didn’t like it. So, you tossed your bruised ego aside in favor of returning to being friends. You’d rather have Alexia in your life as a friend than not at all. 

“No, you can stay. I just thought you’d be out on your date.”

“I never called her,” Alexia sheepishly admitted, serving you your plate of food before going back in for her own. 

“Why not?”

Alexia shrugged, chewing through a mouthful of food before speaking again, “Because it wouldn’t be fair to her if I dated her while I knew I had feelings for someone else.”

And once again you deflate at Alexia’s words. You didn’t think Alexia was capable of tearing your heart out twice in such a short period of time. Reminding yourself that you wanted to support her as a friend would, you stabbed yourself in the heart with your next words. 

“If you have feelings for another girl, why didn’t you ask her on a date? You could literally date anyone you wanted, and they’d be lucky to have you.”

“Well, I wanted to ask her. Actually, I did ask her, but she turned me down. Told me she already had plans tonight.”

“She’s an idiot,” you said, missing the eye roll Alexia sent your way, “But why are you here? Like I said, you could be out with anyone right now.”

“I came here to find out why you turned me down,” Alexia said, turning to you with a serious face that had you placing your plate on the coffee table before you accidentally spilled it. 

“What are you talking about? I never turned you down.”

“Yesterday after training I asked if we could go to dinner together. I wanted to take us to Martina’s. But you said no and that you were busy.”

Even though you could easily recall the moment in question, it didn’t clear anything up, “I didn’t know you were asking me on a date.”

“I didn’t know I was asking you on a date,” Alexia admitted, which served only to confuse you further. “When I asked you, I didn’t really think of it as a date, but later I realized how much I wanted it to be a date.”

“You did?”

She nodded her head emphatically, moving closer so she was seated right next to you, grabbing one of your hands and holding it in hers. “I like you and I really want to try being more than friends with you. I’ve liked you for so long but was scared to do anything about it. And then on my birthday, I got a small taste of you and I want more.”

“If all that is true, why did you go on a date with Alba’s friend?” you asked, slipping your hand out, despite the fact that you wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of her hand in yours. 

"I went on one date to get Alba off my back. And, you didn’t say anything about us after that night, I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same."

“You didn’t say anything either!” you retorted, not angry or accusatory, but as a reminder that Alexia was just at as much fault. 

“I know and I feel like an idiot. I feel like I’ve been going back and forth so much on this because I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to mess us up.”

The silence that followed was surprisingly easy. The heavy tension you would have expected wasn’t there, which had to be a good sign in your book. 

“Mapi told me all about that night at my apartment the other day. About how you were thinking of asking me out,” Alexia said. 

“Of course she did. Is there anything she didn’t tell you?” you sighed, one hand over your eyes to block everything out for a second so you can sort through everything you learned in the last couple of minutes. 

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

You dropped the hand off your face and stared at her in disbelief. “Are you serious? Did you really think I would ask you out after finding you coming home from a date with someone else. I may be hopelessly in love with you, Alexia, but I am not that pathetic,” you said, not even realizing your admission in all that word vomit. 

If Alexia heard it, she chose to ignore it for the moment. There’s been so much leading up to the beginning of something that could be great, and she didn’t want to put it off any longer. She needed confirmation that you were both on the same page and willing to do this together. 

“Ask me now,” Alexia said. 

“I don’t think I can,” you whispered, hiding behind your hands once again. 

Even though Alexia was right in front of you saying all the right words, everything you’ve been waiting for, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to take that leap. You’ve already felt the rejection once, and despite Alexia basically telling you that she’d say yes, you couldn’t do it. 

Without questioning it, Alexia scooted closer once again, taking one of your hands in each of hers, slowly drawing them away from your face. Your eyes remained closed, but you felt as she moved your hands, leading them until they were resting on the side of her neck, your fingers brushing against the baby hairs just under them. 

Then you felt her forehead softly leaning against your own, her warm breath falling against your lips. “I’m sorry if I’ve confused you over all of this,” she whispered, her voice soft as she tried to keep the tranquility of the moment in tact. 

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice in the same steady tone as hers. 

“What if I asked you? Will that work?”

“It might.”

With that being said, and the whole mess of what the last couple days have been, Alexia took the jump you both have been wanting to take for so long now. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You nodded against her before leaning down to hide your face in her neck, your arms going around her as you hugged her tight. The feel of her arms sliding around your waist, her grip on you just as strong, it felt like things were finally falling into place. 

At the same time, you both breathed a huge sigh of relief, knowing that the hardest part was now over and all the good times were about to come. 

[lialox]

What if oldest dream behind the wall was Tls123?

“We’ll still stick together from now on too, so why do you sound so grimly determined? Don’t worry. No matter what kind of a monster is waiting for us, I’ll finish it off.”

I gently smiled. Meanwhile, the subway was slowing down even further.

My reflection could be seen in the black window of the exit door. There was a splatter of blood on my cheek reflected on the glass. I wiped it off my face. And then, my mood cooled down.

⸢The blood was really on my cheek, and not on the window.⸥

“Doors are opening!”

Along with Lee Hyunsung’s cry, everyone got ready to fight.

“....Ng?”

However, contrary to everyone’s nervousness, what greeted us was a rather empty subway platform. Sure, there were a few people walking around in the surroundings, but none of them paid us much attention.

“What’s this, there’s no....”

Jung Heewon muttered that out, and as we stepped onto the platform, I was overcome with an ominous foreboding. There it was, the unfamiliar sense of reality touching my feet. Faint sparks, along with every single one of my Fables, were pointing in a certain direction.

⸢Someone was sitting on the subway’s bench.⸥

Black athletic wear as if its wearer had just gone out for a run. A beautiful woman was slouched on the bench, unflinching in her sleep even with the bustle of the crowd around her. The short crop of her hair lightly caressed her cheeks.

As the pulsing migraine assaulted me, I somehow managed to lift my unmoving feet.

⸢Kim Dokja made a promise. To end the culprit who made this world. No matter what that existence was.⸥

There were deep bags under the woman’s eyes. It was as if she hadn’t slept properly in years.

⸢Time isn’t moving because not reading and not imagining.⸥

I did think that all of this could be a dream, a lie. I even believed that this was a dream the evil <Star Stream> had created.

I even believed that I could have been the monster waiting past that wall.

But this person, I didn’t expect her to be the one past the full stop. To have met a writer at the place where the creator of a universe of stories resides…

⸢Y ou we re al rea dy ex pec ting this di dn’t you Kim Dok Ja.⸥

Before any story could be described, before it could be read, it had to exist in one person’s dream first.

The author’s.

The Most Ancient Dream. The world’s most omniscient yet powerless god.

“I… am Tls123?”

Han Sooyoung was the first to speak. Her eyes were trembling.

All of my senses were gnawing at me; they said that that woman was the culprit behind all these scenarios.

It was the same for my companions.

I thought I heard something fall to the floor, and I saw Jung Heewon’s sword rolling around on the ground.

“Ah, ah....”

She was now looking at her. She was looking at the woman, then back at Han Sooyoung. Her eyes were filling up with despair.

As if she couldn’t believe this. As if she’d prefer that this whole thing turned out to be a lie.

[The promise with the ‘Secretive Plotter’ is activating.]

I opened my mouth only to close it several times. Maybe, this might be my punishment.

For daring to dream of a perfect ending in which all of us survived. To have come this far, and shed blood for such a hope.

It was as if the universe was telling me there was no such thing.

The Star Stream wasn’t like that. This was a universe of sacrifices and salvation too, was a paid service.

[You have promised to destroy <Star Stream>.]

[<Star Stream> will not be destroyed unless the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ is ended.]

I now stared at the woman.

The woman who gave me every reason to survive in this ruined world.

[Please end the ‘Most Ancient Dream’.]

+++

Sparks overflowed above my Incarnation Body. My heart was madly pounding away. My head faltered, and I somehow managed to suck in several deep breaths.

[The 4th Wall] was right. Maybe, I already knew.

There were simply too many hints.

⸢I was far too lucky in this world, and⸥

⸢Everything in this world seemed to be geared towards my convenience, and⸥

⸢At times, this world even felt sloppy.⸥

If all of these were the result of the guiding hand of a writer who so desperately wished for our survival…

⸢The genesis of all the world-lines, the original world-line.⸥

I raised my head back up, then stepped forward to lift ‘that’ Han Sooyoung into my arms. She felt so light. This small body carried the weight of every sin in the world.

The world written just for me.

An anguished cry came from the rear.

“Sooyoung-ssi, calm down!”

“You bastard! Let me go!”

It was a voice far more devastated than I have ever heard from her. Tears were pouring from her eyes as Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung held her by her arms. A dagger was gripped tightly onto one hand while [Black Flames] were bursting from the other.

“That bitch, why the hell would I write a story like this!?”

She continued to thrash about, and even the kids held onto her legs to keep her from taking another step forward to do something foolish. The entire nebula worked together to suppress her, their status raging forth as Han Sooyoung did everything she could to break free of the restraint.

“Something this fucked up—“ Han Sooyoung snarled. “If I had to write a story for this purpose, to write a novel with these… Shit developments…!!“

Han Sooyoung choked on her own tears as she continued to try to force her way past our companions.

“Han Sooyoung.”

It was Yoo Junghyuk who stepped in between them. The one who had lived this tragedy for thousands of lives.

“It has been difficult."

He reduced his tragedies to a mere few words.

“But it’s over now.”

⸢His forgiveness was offered in this manner. ⸥

“Shut up!!”

⸢It only served to break her.⸥

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!”

Yoo Junghyuk opened his mouth as if to respond, then suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit.

Thick fog came in from somewhere, and I picked up on the ominous power of Chaos. Yoo Junghyuk’s expression as he held the blade became weird.

“Y-you bastard....”

As he staggered about, the pitch-black Fable leaked out from his mouth. That Fable gurgled out and travelled down his chin, hit the floor, and finally, formed the silhouette of a person.

The blade of the [Heaven Shaking Sword] gleamed between the jet-black coat; a man who only lived for this moment was standing there now.

⸢The Secretive Plotter.⸥

The being who had even forgotten about his real name after experiencing an enedless tragedy even past the last sentence of his story. The man who lived only for the purpose of revenge was here.

⸢No human can control every type of imagination.⸥

Just how many universes were born and broken in her mind? Just how many of her imagined tragedies were inherited by just one person?

⸢And that’s why the most ideal person to end this dream had already been determined.⸥

It was the world’s most fair revenge.

So why did I keep holding onto Han Sooyoung this tightly?

[[ It was you. ]]

The Secretive Plotter’s [Heaven Shaking Sword] continued to wander in the air. That sword was now pointed towards its creator.

[[ The being that dreamt and perpetuated every tragedy in all the worldlines. ]]

I only made it this far because of those tragedies she wrote.

It was the story that I loved more than anything. The story I was indebted to.

[[ Kim Dokja. You must end the Most Ancient Dream. ]]

Every letter here was chosen by her hands. By bearing all of these sins, she brought us to this moment.

It was thanks to Han Sooyoung that I managed to survive.

And now it was time to repay my debt.

“Did you forget?”

[‘Demon King’ transformation is activating!]

[‘Archangel’ transformation is activating!]

I smiled gently and with one hand raised my [Unbreakable Faith]. I pulled the sleeping Han Sooyoung closer in the other.

“I didn’t promise to kill people.”

In this place far beyond our full stop, our swords were drawn.

A new story had begun.

[luvcosmos]

CLEMENTINE SLICES

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB!Reader TAGS: Fluff if you squint, Angst, Mentions of Death, Spoilers for ATSV, Not proofread WORDS: 2.3k EXCERPT: This. He thought. This is why he's here. To keep you and Gabi safe, happy. To make sure none of you would ever endure the pain of losing a loved one.

Gabriela’s favorite fruit is clementine.

Her love for the fruit may seem like a small insignificant detail, but it’s one of the first things Miguel made sure to remember before he entered this universe and took the place of your Miguel.

It’s Sunday and today, he’s taken you and Gabi to the park, just like his alternate self always does. The simple routine of sitting side by side at the bench, it’s important to him that things remain the same—with you none the wiser of the truth.

Your head rested on Miguel’s shoulder as you both watched Gabi run around and play. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and he’s ardently and hopelessly in love with you.

It’s taken him by surprise, that he’ll fall deeply in love. It feels like his feet have been swept off the floor, but he supposes it was inevitable. He’s watched your life with his doppelgänger after all, saw how much you loved so passionately and the way you didn’t tolerate any bullshit from him or anyone.

That’s why he was so terrified when he finally saw you for the first time. He was worried that you’d see through him immediately but by some unknown miracle, instead of the harsh questions of ‘who are you?’ that he expected, you had wrapped your arms around him, scolded him for coming home late but still kissed him so softly and dismissed his strange behavior with an order to get some rest.

Your name has been carved into his heart ever since.

“Time flies by so fast,” You suddenly spoked wistfully, interrupting his train of thoughts. “Look at her, I can’t believe our little girl’s ten years old now.”

Miguel let out a smile, one that softened his entire face and crinkled his eyes at the corners. He squeezed your shoulders briefly with his arm and hesitated for a moment before pressing a kiss to your head.

“Time does fly,” He agreed. “It feels like it was just yesterday when I was holding your hand and supporting you as you worked hard to bring Gabi into this world.”

The lie came so easily to him, that he almost tricked himself that it was actually him in the delivery room while you gave birth and not another man who shared his name and face.

(A pang of pain gripped his heart and there was a sudden urge to run and take you and Gabi to safety. He ignored it though. He made sure that no enemies of his will be able to discover that he has a family here.)

“Oh yeah? That’s not what I just remember from that day.” You began to tease, “You were so nervous - more nervous than me, when my water broke. And you cried when you first held Gabi in your arms that day.”

Miguel felt his heart become soothed at your words, forgetting about his unease as the corners of his mouth turned up.

He remembered seeing that day through the screens, it was Lyla who showed it to him. Gabi was already born when his AI found this universe, but she had gone through previous moments of the life that the other version of him had.

“This might be a sign for you to go live the life you’ve always wanted.” She had said to him then. Who would’ve thought that he’d be here now?

He realized that he’s gone silent for a moment as he got lost in his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he tucked you closer to his side as he decided to tease you back, “Weren’t you also busy cursing me out that time?”

You laughed at his words, pinching his thigh slightly in mock offense as you retorted, “Yeah, well, who else was I supposed to curse at? You’re her father so you deserved it.”

The two of you shared a chuckle and Miguel removed his arm around your shoulders to intertwine his hand with yours. “Thank you for going through all that pain to bring our daughter into this world,” He murmured as he brought your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You practically melted at his gratefulness as you smiled fondly at him. “What are you talking about?” You started, “You have nothing to thank me for. It was our dream, after all.”

Your free hand reached up to rest a hand on his cheek, “And I wouldn’t have been able to do it if you weren’t by my side, ready to buy me any food I craved, and massage my feet whenever I needed it. That day might’ve been stressful and painful, but it was worth it.” You added.

Miguel stayed quiet for a moment as he stared into your eyes. It was like an invisible string tugged him closer to you and slowly, watching you for any sign of discomfort, his right hand cupped your chin gently and he leaned in to press his lips against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his lips touching yours. The way he kissed you has changed, it’s gentler, maybe even a little unsure, but it has never made you feel less loved by him.

He reluctantly pulled away; his eyes stared at you with an awed adoring look. He nudged his nose gently against yours, “You’re right, my love. It’s more than worth it.” He whispered softly and his eyes drifted over to Gabi.

While he has his eyes on her, you have yours on him and you saw how his body tensed like he was ready to stand up when he saw her trip, but he relaxed when he saw his daughter get up with a laugh. It takes everything in you to stop yourself from smiling at the sight.

Your husband might’ve been acting off the past couple of weeks but he’s still as protective and loving towards your family as ever.

Although, it still bothered you when you couldn’t help but notice the unusual tone of soberness in his voice when he said it was worth it. It makes you wonder if he might mean something else too but before you could ask, Miguel pressed one last kiss on your forehead before slowly letting go of your hand and he moved to take a clementine from the food basket at his side.

“Gabriela will be a little hungry once she takes a break from playing,” He stated. “I should get it peeled for her now.”

He has only started to thumb away the skin of the fruit but somehow, as if she had supernatural senses, your daughter chooses that moment to glance back at you two and immediately hones in on the clementine Miguel is holding.

Her brown eyes widened almost comically, and she waved goodbye to her playmates before running back to where you and Miguel are sitting. Soon enough, the little girl is in front of you with her eyes staring at her father expectantly.

Miguel arched an eyebrow at his daughter, “Can I help you?” He asked with an amused expression.

Gabi only shifted her feet eagerly and held her palms out, her eyes drifting to look at him and the clementine. “Papa, I want one.”

He let out a small chuckle while you smiled fondly as you watched the two interact, silently reaching out a hand to tuck a loose hair softly behind Gabi’s ear.

“Oh, is that why you’re here? Not to say hi to mama and papa, check if we’re okay?” He teased her.

You can’t help but giggle softly and share a fond smile with your husband as Gabi breaks her gaze from the fruit and looked up at both of you worriedly.

“Mama and papa not okay?” She asked immediately with a small frown, standing up on her tiptoes with her hands now leaning on Miguel’s knees as if that would help her see what could possibly be ailing her parents.

Miguel softened and gave his daughter one of those smiles that was reserved just for his girls. If you weren’t so enamored, you would’ve laughed at how comically it looked to have this broad and strong man be so soft and gentle around you and Gabi.

“We’re okay, sweetheart.” He reassured her.

Your daughter, having the same overprotective instincts as her father— doesn’t believe Miguel at first. She ran her eyes over you both, double checking before she nodded with a smile, satisfied with her inspection. “Okay… that’s good.” She scooted closer, her eyes now looking at her father pleadingly.

He clicked his tongue at her, “Clean your hands first, baby.”

Gabi quickly turned to you then as you reached into your bag and pulled out a pack of wet wipes. You opened it and took one before handing it over to your daughter.

“Thank you, mommy.” She said, and under your gentle guidance, she wiped her hands thoroughly and carefully. Once she was done, she tossed the wipe inside the little trash can that you carried along and turned to Miguel once again, showing her hands proudly. “Clean now, papa!” She exclaimed, “Now can I have one?”

“Gabriela, what do we say when we ask for something?” Miguel questioned in a stern but soft tone.

Gabi pouts at him for a moment before she replied, “Can I have one please, papa?”

Your husband nodded his approval with a soft smile and handed her the clementine slice, making sure that she holds it carefully first and won’t ruin her clothes, before turning to you with another slice held gently between his fingers and lifting it up to your lips to feed you.

You smile gratefully at him, popping the clementine into your mouth.

He watched you fondly as you ate and swiftly swipes his thumb below your lower lip. There’s really nothing to clean there, he just wanted an excuse to touch you.

He alternated between handing Gabi a slice of clementine and then feeding you one with a feeling of warmth and belonging in his heart. It’s like this is what he was meant to do all this time, his dreams finally come true. He’d peel a million clementines and more, if only that meant he would always have you and his daughter by his side.

This. He thought. This is why he’s here. To keep you and Gabi safe, happy. To make sure that none of you would ever endure the pain and suffering of losing a loved one. Gabi will never lose her father and you will never lose your husband.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’s a selfish man. That’s why he feels no guilt or remorse for his actions.

If you asked him, he’ll even say that the Miguel of this universe would approve. He knows himself well enough that he’d want you two to be happy and safe no matter what universe or version of him is present.

So instead of wallowing in guilt, he watched his wife, his daughter with a smile on his face.

(But there’s that pang of pain in his chest again. A feeling of anxiety and worry that he can’t explain.)

He looked around cautiously for any threat of danger that might be causing this feeling. He might not have a Spider-Sense compared to the other Spiders in the society, but he’d be a fool to ignore his gut.

The park is full of other families taking advantage of the sunny weather to relax and spend time with each other. He saw children running around, dogs barking, and couples taking a stroll together. There’s nothing out of the ordinary that could explain this feeling of unsafety and yet his heart continued to beat faster with anxiety.

There’s something wrong. He realized.

He can’t explain it but he’s certain something is wrong.

His body tensed up and without realizing it, he’s got a protective arm around you while his other arm tugged Gabi close to his side.

His unease only intensified when the bright sky slowly turned gray, the sun nowhere to be found. That’s when he saw it. Somewhere in the distance, there is a dark shadow form warping into different sizes and shapes. He squinted his eyes, and it also looked like the form is... glitching?

He wants to run. He needs to run. He needs to take you and Gabi somewhere safe. But his legs aren’t moving, and he can’t move his eyes away from the shadow form no matter how hard he tries.

HE CAN’T BREATHE

He can hear you and Gabi calling out to him, but it sounds muffled. Like he’s being pulled deep underwater and the two of you are far away from him, out of his reach. Out of his protection.

“Miguel!” He heard you shouting now. “MIGUEL!”

His head snapped to the side so quickly that he almost got a whiplash, but the empty side of his bed is what greeted him instead of your face.

Cold sweat dripped down his body as his breaths came out heavily. Miguel looked around with wide eyes, looking for you and Gabi with panic and fear gripping his heart, before he realized it was all a dream.

A memory of his past haunting him like a ghost.

He sighed heavily before swinging his legs to the side of the bed, running a shaky hand on his face as he sat up.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to push the memories away but even then, he could still see your face and his daughter. The two people that he failed. The two people that died because of him.

But still, he can’t bring himself to wish that he’ll stop dreaming about you or Gabi. Even if it’s painful and it reminds him of how much he fucked up because of his own selfishness, he’d rather keep on having these dreams than forget about his family entirely.

No matter how much time has passed, he will always carry you two with him. The only pain that he welcomes with open arms, the only pain he will never get rid of, because it’s a pain he deserves.

He will never be able to look at clementines the same way ever again.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Unwinding (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader)

Summary: After a particularly tough mission comes to a close, Ghost requests your immediate assistance - not as his subordinate, but as his partner. 

AN: Got inspired by the things that I want but I’m still training myself to accept them when they happen. Plus *slaps Ghost* you can fit so much trauma in this bad boy. He deserves a bit of healing.

Reader is GN, referred to as Y/N a few times, established relationship with Ghost

Content warnings: Allusions to a bad mission and trauma, Ghost struggling with coping.

Masterlist // AO3 // Another Ghost fic I wrote

Your name: submit What is this?

“On me.”

That’s all Ghost’d said before stalking off out the briefing room. And, although every inch of you ached for bed, your eyes threatening to close, you followed sharply a few feet behind him.

From how he ordered you just now, you could tell his head was still on the battlefield. Even Ghost had issues severing himself from what he did out there sometimes. This mission had been arduous and weighed on the mind as much as the body. Everyone dealt with it in their own ways: Gaz went for a run; Soap bench-pressed; Price smoked a cigar in his office; you listened to music, and Ghost did whatever he did in his room.

He hadn’t spoken to you about this sorta thing before. The guy was very private – just look at his mask and all the back-ups he has to avoid showing his face. So, as you rounded the corner that led towards the sleeping quarters and caught sight of Ghost leaving his bedroom door ajar, your trepidation took over. You weren’t scared of him. You were scared of letting him down, doing something that would cause him to retreat into himself after letting you in this moment.

You closed his door behind you; this part of him, you had been allowed to be a part of since last month. During that time, you’d learnt his rigid routine. Every evening, he would stack his equipment on his desk. He folded his clothes, even if it was going into the washing basket for laundry the next day. He’d barked at you once for attempting to lie down on his sheets before having a shower. He kept the mask on. Apart from the last night together where you’d woken to take a sip of water and seen the back of his head exposed. It took all your willpower not to reach out and stroke through his curls – half an inch overdue for a haircut. When you woke up next, it was quarter to six and the mask was back on as he kneaded out a knot in his back.

Those same hands were no longer steady and precise as he ripped off his helmet.

“Ghost?” You called out tentatively.

He didn’t answer. He continued to struggle with the vest’s buckle, failing to adjust the strap enough to free him.

You spoke firmer this time, “Ghost.”

Your Lieutenant grunted and gave up on the buckle. His restless hands tugged hard at the front of his vest instead. You removed your helmet and squatted to place it on the floor, beside the desk.

“Simon.”

That got him. His rattled ruckus faltered and he stopped fighting with his uniform. His ramrod spine held him in place, like a like a coil running a current throughout his body. You felt him watching you through his peripherals as you approached him, slowly and openly with your hands up.

“Here.” Let me help you.

With perseverance powered by sleep deprivation, you pried the accused buckle upwards. It came loose and its twin on the other strap followed suit.

Without looking in his eyes, you asked, “What do you need?”

“I need…” Ghost trailed off. Then he huffed and turned his head away whilst fidgeting with one of his skeletal gloves. You didn’t interrupt his thought process. Your feet took you back to give it some room.

“I need…” His knuckles cracked as he flexed them, “You.”

“I’m here.”

“No,” His eyes screwed shut, his head dropping in frustration. He gave his glove a harder tug.

“Take your time,” You reassured, sure to plant yourself in his line of sight.

“Don’t want to.” His teeth were gritted as he forced himself to speak, still without looking at you. “I need you, without all this” - and he gestured up and down his body - “In the way.”

You took inventory of what he’d indicated to: his thick vest carrying spare magazines and a variety of grenades, the thick raincoat that hid his other layers, the boots that had his trousers tucked into the laces, and (of course) the skull plate mask sewn into his balaclava.

“Ok,” You nodded, even with a devil on your shoulder telling you to just curl up on his bed and deal with this tomorrow. You choose to continue: “Can I help you get it off?”

A quieter grunt permitted you to remove the vest from his torso. It found a home on his desk, adjacent to his helmet. Removing the garments one by one, you hung up his coat on its peg and folded his jacket over the desk chair. When you faced him again, he’d rolled his mask up and bit his fingertip, yanking his glove off. He repeated the same with the other. His fingers were spread out in the cool air of his room, ready to hold onto whatever part of you they could find. But they were hesitating.

He broke into a swift march and began pacing the length of the room. His breathing heavily punctuated the boom of his boots against the floor. When he got like this, after being so stoic and calm on a mission, you knew not to press him - just guide, that's how he put it afterwards. It was like you were guiding him to make the right choices for him, when he couldn't. Trust to unwind him from this state to recover when he needed it.

Suddenly he was on the bed and yanked at his laces. His entire body jerked and groaned with the effort. Despite your sleep-deprived mind, you still had to restrain the urge to sprint to his aid. Your sluggish pace allowed his panic to trickle out into nothing when you knelt in front of him and begun weaving the intricate laces out of their tangled web. He watched you closely like you were his next target for a rapid knife throw.

His boots were paired at the end of the bed, ready to be polished tomorrow. His belt buckle was undone with the same knackered but patient hands; his own shifted his jeans down to his midthighs and hid his head in his hands whilst you did the rest.

“I don’t know why I can’t do it.” There was no growl, no underlying rasp that usually accompanied his speech. Just barely whispered words. “I want to. I do.”

“I know you do,” You replied, bundling the jeans into his washing basket. Why he wore denim on a mission, you had no clue and you wouldn’t question it now.

He continued his train of thought, “I want to hold you against me in our bed and sleep just like that.” His socks were off next and stretched over the rest of the dirty laundry. “I’m trying.”

You nodded again, feeling your weariness weighing down your forehead like a lead ball rolling about your skull. However, it was halted in place as Simon allowed his fingers to overlap yours once you’d sat beside him. That first hurdle was always the hardest; seeing him instigate it mad your heart leap into your throat. You didn’t speak - only watched - out of fear of bursting into loving (if exhausted) tears. Still, you struggled to hold them in when he pressed your fingers to his masked lips. Through the fabric, you felt his deep inhale, like he was trying to breathe in your very essence. You hoped the scent of his socks hadn’t stuck to you and wondered if he could feel your cool finger tips through the mask.

With a syrupy stare, Simon asked, “Will you take it off for me?”

“Of course.”

He kept your hand, held it daintily in his as you stood up and moved between his spread legs. Instead of letting you go, he placed his hands atop yours to follow as you gently rolled the balaclava up his neck. You could feel the goosebumps spiking along his skin. Carefully, you lifted it out and over his chin. His breath fogged out of the fabric, into the space between you two. The plate was taken away from his face, defying all rumour and reputation that he was merely a phantom. Now, the face of the man you loved greeted your adoring gaze. You didn’t stare at one spot for too long, even though you wanted to more than anything. His cheeks, rosy as if they’d freshly fallen from the Tree of Knowledge, tempted you to take a bite. Instead you skilfully tossed the mask onto its usual spot.

With a sharp intake through his nose, Simon lurched forwards and locked his tree-trunk arms around your middle. You read him, like you always did, through his body – how it sagged against you, his spine curved over. Carefully, you rested your lips against his sweat-soaked hair. 

You weren’t sure who was holding onto who the tightest. The deep pressure seemed to soothe Simon though. Even better, you felt like you could fall asleep like this and you’d be more than happy to do so.

Pushing him for a shower was probably not a good move – even though you both reeked. There was the risk of giving the impression you wanted him to let go, that you’d scare him off. This was vulnerable enough; you weren’t sure whether full-nudity ranked higher than taking his mask off.

But you knew how important his routine was to him.

You settled on saying, “What would you like to do?” It came out mumbled so it was good they emerged right beside his bat-like ears.

“I want to be clean and I want to hold you,” was his answer.

Clean, not “have a shower”; that was doable.

It took every ounce of willpower to slip out of his grip to get the packet of wet wipes you knew resided in his bedside table. Still, Simon held onto your hand and resumed his tight hold once you returned to him. He was ready, head tilted up, eyes shut. Soon enough, you could pick out his wispy white lashes that glinted in the low lamplight.

Whilst you mopped up the grime that had gathered beneath his balaclava, tears spiked in your eyes and pressure ballooned in your chest. Simon had kept his eyes closed the whole time. His thumbs were circling around your hips.

You cradled the back of his head to fish out the dirt in the crevices of his larger scars and the lines that formed by his eyes from squinting down a scope.

“There.”

When he looked at you, you could feel your gaze reflected in his eyes, his warmth mirroring what he saw in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

His finger and thumb gently pinched your chin. You welcomed his touch with a sigh and you finally gave your eyes permission for a moment’s rest.

“Y/N?”

Your eyebrows raised, though your eyes did not open, “Hmm?”

“Lie down with me?”

You moaned in relief, “Yes please.”

That loophole of doing things for others that are much more difficult to do for yourself, it was well and truly exploited as you let him mould your limbs around your clothes as he had done for you, everything besides your undershirt and underwear. Then he guided you to rest beside him.

“Sleep,” He said simply once you were both tucked under the blankets.

“Y’ok?”

“Hmm. Sleep.”

Once again, his giant hand caressed over your cheek. There was enough cognition in you to turn and kiss two of his rough fingertips before your head, filled with cement, sunk into the pillow. His chapped lips against your forehead were your last point of call as you drifted off to sleep.

[angelkissiies]

linger

abby anderson x reader

cw : hockey!abby , cheerleader!reader , modern!au , fluff , NSFW , NSFR , slight exhibitionism .

wc : 2.0K

a / n : you know the drill ! SQUINT , if you see any grammatical errors !

“Abby, are you sure we're allowed to be here this late?” You questioned, skates tucked under your arm as you walked through the empty aisle towards the rink doors. It was almost 10pm, long after closing time, making you glance around warily– just in case there happened to be some security hanging around. 

The blonde huffed in annoyance, nodding again, her hand clasped in yours as she led you to the ice. “Yes, pretty, I promise. I pulled a few strings.” She hummed, a small smirk pulling at her lips– seeing as ‘a few strings’ was just calling up her dad and getting permission. It was something she’d been planning for a couple days, seeing as she’d be out of town for your anniversary– much to her dismay, so she wanted to make the few days she had with you before count. That led you both to the rink, shuffling into the small bench compartment to lace up your skates. “Don’t you trust me?” 

It was your turn to roll your eyes, elbowing her gently before sitting down on the bench– letting the skates clatter onto the empty metal beside you as you pulled your shoes off. “You know I do, Abs.” You tutted, watching as the girl copied your actions, fingers messing with the loose laces of your skates as you slid them onto your feet. You only ever got a chance to skate while practicing or performing and seeing as you didn’t have much time in between that and classes, it was beyond exciting to have the ice all to yourself. 

Abby pulled her strings taut, her honey hair creating a curtain between you and her as she leaned down. She was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants with a matching team shirt, her puffer vest now discarded on the floor next to her feet– the fabric stretching and pulling tight against her muscles as she finished tying her skates up, pulling the cap off. “Are you ready for this?” She asked, sitting up, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she did so. 

You tapped your now uncapped blades against the floor, a smile pulling at your lips as you nodded. You couldn’t lie, when you learned of the team's absence on the day of your anniversary, you’d been pretty bummed. Rightfully so, seeing as it wasn’t everyday you got to celebrate such a milestone, but through the past few days you saw how much work Abby had put into making the days feel extra special– so you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset. The room was much colder than normal, the lack of bodies accounting for the extra few degrees it lost, making you rub your arms– warning the skin under your black compression top. “Ready as I'll ever be.” You hummed, pushing yourself off of your seat and into a standing position, watching as she moved in front of you to open the rink door. 

“Pretty girls first.” 

You elbowed her gently, stepping out onto the freshly mantinanced ice, turning to look at her as you slid. It was exhilarating, the feeling bubbling in your chest as you dug your skates down softly– coming to a stop a few feet away from the blonde, her attention focused on you as a bright smile lit up your face. “How much do you wanna bet you can’t catch me?” You asked, using your toes to push back slightly, drifting further from the now encroaching blonde. 

She laughed lightly, shaking her head as the ice hissed beneath her blades. “You think you can outrun me? Really?” She clarified, tilting her head at you, her hair coming to cascade over her shoulder at the movement. It was laughable, in her opinion, for you to think that you could skate faster than she could. She was the captain of the hockey team and whilst, yes, she couldn’t deny how nimble you’d proven yourself– she still didn’t see any outcome that had you escaping her. “Y’know what? Lets just see, hm?” Her feet were already pushing her forward, cutting thin lines into the flat sheet– hand outstretched towards you. 

You giggled, kicking off in the opposite direction, the cold air whipping your hair from its confines as you picked up speed– hearing how she'd begun to close in. “You’ll never catch me, Abby!” You shouted, turning on the edge of your blade to evade her hands, it was just close enough to the wall that you heard the dull thump of her hands coming into contact with the plexi-glass as you made your escape. “I’m much faster than you–,” You drew out, knowing how riled up she could get when things got competitive. The feeling of the empty ice was something you’d missed, the freedom taking you back to the first time you’d gotten on the ice. Some pond in the middle of nowhere was the entrance into the world of skating for you, the feeling finally being matched as your chest filled with a childlike glee. 

Abby’s face had begun to tinge pink, her confidence in her ability to catch you dwindling as you raced in front of her– much too far to reach out and grab. “You’re just a cocky cheerleader!” She prodded playfully, trying to pick up speed as she edged her skates to account for the curve of the rink. She couldn’t even be mad, the sound of your joyous laughter making her heart swell. 

“And you’re just a cocky hockey player!” You shouted back, glancing back to gauge how close she was before spinning slightly on your skate– scraping the toe pick of your skate against the ice. You tapped your skate gently against the ice before you pushed off slightly, feeling the blades come off of the ground, spinning with the top of your body to land back opposite to Abby. You felt breathless, the simplicity of it all being more than enough, adoring the tingly sensation that filled your legs as you felt the blades click completely back onto the ice. 

Your stunt gave the blonde just enough time to come up behind you, hands locking around your waist, pulling you into her body roughly to prevent you from getting away. “Hockey Captain actually,” She chuckled, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. She dipped further down to press soft kisses to the flesh that had gathered goosebumps from the abuse of her hot breath, “Did i tell you, you look pretty today?” She followed up, coming to stop just below the shell of your ear, her voice heavy as she dropped off. 

A chill went down your spine as you tried to catch your breath, an airy laugh stumbling from your lips. “A couple thousand times, I think.” You confirmed, tilting your head to the side to give her more clearance, you let your head rest against her as your eyes fluttered closed, welcoming the warmth she provided as it traveled down your spine– melting you into the shape of her. 

Her hands detached from your waist, coming to trace the shape of your hips before sliding up towards your chest. Abby wasn’t one to say she always had sexual intentions but currently, she would definitely attest to the pool of deviancy between her thighs at the sight of you. It didn’t take much for the want to enter her brain, hands always itching to be on you. “Mind if I tell you again?” She hummed, her large hands coming to grope the clothed mounds of your breasts, pressing chaste kisses along the newly exposed stripes of your neck. 

“A-abby,” You whined, swallowing hard as you forced your eyes open. “We can’t, the cameras.” You pointed out, gaze coming to land on the multiple lenses pointed at the open rink. They were usually used to catch all angles of the game, though now they seemed to be getting a very different show. You couldn’t help the sharp moan she elicited from your mouth as her fingers pinched at your erect nipples, the buds poking out from the thin material of your shirt. 

Abby shook her head, “Let me worry about that, you just keep looking pretty, how about that?” She murmured, dipping one hand towards your waistband, the other continuing the assault on your chest. She bypassed the thick band of your yoga pants, moving her hand lower to cup the warmth of your cunt through the thin fabric. A small groan fell from her lips as she pressed her palm into the bundle of nerves, letting your hips gently rut against her. “Just like that.”

A heat crept into your cheeks as you felt your body reacting to her, hips moving with a mind of their own as they chased the miniscule friction she could provide from her cupped hand. “Shit,” You hissed, hand coming to grip hers, eyes squeezing shut. 

The girl smirked, rubbing her hand over once more before finally allowing herself to dip below your waistband, pushing past the soft cotton of your underwear to skim her fingers between your puffy folds– collecting the wetness on her fingers. “Already wet, pretty?” She chuckled slightly, moving to press two fingers against your clit. “Y’so good for me.” It would be a lie to say her chest didn't swell with a kind of pride at the state of your panties, the wetness being a mark of her ownership over you, nobody else could make you feel like she could– you both knew that. 

A broken whimper fell from your lips as her cold fingers began drawing circles into the sensitive bundle, your hand gripping her forearm hard enough to leave bruises. It was equally humiliating and freeing, being touched so publicly. On one hand, there was nobody here. On the other hand, when you closed your eyes– it was like you could feel the gazes of hundreds on you, all watching you fall apart under the sexual torment of the captain of the hockey team. “Oh fuck,” You breathed, your legs shaking from the pressure, skates sliding slightly. 

“I got you, I got you.” She promised, her fingers still toying with your nipple from over the clothes, “You're not going anywhere.” In the time between your observation of the cameras to now, she’d figured out her game plan to go about ridding the school of the tapes. It might have involved a little breaking and entering, and possibly theft, but none of that was above upholding your dignity. She’d simply take the tapes from the security office, maybe even keep them for future use– surprise you with a homemade movie. Her fingers added a little pressure to your clit, picking up her pace. 

You squirmed slightly in her hold, the tension beginning to bloom in your stomach as your cunt clenched around nothing. It was pathetic, how turned on you’d gotten from the prospect of being seen, even more so of how predictable you’d become to her. Her fingers moved with a skilled precision, knowing exactly how to manipulate your body to her will, knowing exactly how to make you cum with barely any effort. “God, Abs, please.” You gasped, nails dragging against the fabric of her sweatshirt, eyes welling with overwhelmed tears as you fought between the rush of your orgasm and the embarrassment of being so exposed on the ice. 

“Good girl.” She groaned, dragging her teeth along the shell of your ear, hot breath sending chills down your spine. Her other hand had navigated to your hip, holding you firmly as she nursed you towards the edge, you getting your fair share of fingerprint bruises. “Y’so pretty, baby, my pretty girl.” 

The tightness wound in your stomach snapped, and with a whiny moan, you fell flush against her– hot tears spilling down your cheeks. It was dizzying, how fast you’d gone from completely free to caged in her, how easy it was for her to make you hers over and over again. You didn’t mind, not in the slightest, the euphoric feeling coursing through your body as you felt her slide her hand from your pants– other hand coming up to wipe the stray tears from your cheeks. “Abby..” You whispered, legs almost giving out under you as you pushed yourself to turn towards her– eyes connecting with her blown ones as you wrapped your arms around her neck, throwing your entire body weight onto her. 

“I love you too, pretty.”

[jtl07]

Hi! Am I late to my favorite thing?! I love JT shenanigans 👏🏼📝 But first: the theater au is a really cool idea! I can totally picture the situation, haha. Of course Bea knows all the lines. And wow, the boat prompt 🔥 Okay here comes my prompt: fitness center + «oops my bad»

not late at all! and so glad you like the college theater au - more to come on that soon i hope 🤞

now to your prompt: my mind immediately went to i see you clearly now (i hold you dearly now) particularly this bit:

Beatrice [...] working out at the gym (Beatrice had gently suggested that Ava stay at home after causing a scene that Ava still blames Beatrice for - anyone with eyes would have had the same reaction to you doing hip thrusts, Bea -

(actually, @ant-heia i'm pretty sure you made a comment about this line lol)

so what if we noodle what this scene could've looked like? as in: Ava, still unseen, following along when Beatrice goes to the gym...

[under the cut because it got a little rambly lol]

Ava's not gonna lie: not having a body sucks.

it sucks because she can feel the sun but not really, she can move things but only so much, she can speak but not at times that she can control or predict - all they've figured out so far is that it isn't something they can fix.

and yeah, she misses how it feels like to stretch out on the bed after a good night's rest, misses how it feels like to sleep at all. she misses basking in the sun, misses even the way sweat collects in all those weird places on a hot day.

she misses too: having boobs.

but at least there's Bea's boobs. now, to be clear: Ava does her best to give Beatrice privacy in the apartment, makes sure to be go into the living room or the kitchen when Beatrice is changing or using the bathroom. and she makes sure then whenever she's looking, to only look with the utmost of respect - which is what she's absolutely doing now, tucked into a corner away from the flow of gym folks, the spandex and various levels of undress going unnoticed as she focuses solely on Beatrice's form - the flush on her cheeks, the steadiness of her form, the subtle bounce of her chest with every step she takes as she finishes her warmup on the treadmill.

Ava makes sure to be at Beatrice's side when she steps down from the machine, sees her smile as she registers her presence. and really, that's the only thing that makes this all bearable - Beatrice and her gentleness, her cleverness; the sense of togetherness they've built despite and in spite of Ava's state of being. because to bear witness to Beatrice's life, to live with her even now - it's a gift, even as she is.

and if Ava can be completely honest: witnessing Beatrice at the gym is the best gift she could have ever received.

if she still had her body, she'd have melted by now, watching -respectfully! - as Beatrice works the different muscles of her body, focused and deliberate, grace and power in every move. (and if Ava brushes her hand along the curve of Beatrice's bicep, her shoulder, the outside of her thigh - that's between her and the quiet smirk Beatrice gives her in return.)

she's memorized Beatrice's routine by now so when Beatrice diverts to a bench with a barbell in her hands, she frowns. "you're gonna do another round of chest presses?" Ava asks, confused especially with the lack of a weight rack. while she can help spot Beatrice if she needs assistance, they won't be able to explain a barbell seemingly floating in midair.

"no," Beatrice murmurs and Ava steps back, tucks herself again out of the way as she watches Beatrice carefully sets herself up, sitting on the floor perpendicular to the bench, barbell at her hips, feet braced. Ava has no idea what to expect when Beatrice takes that deep breath she always does before she begins a set and lifts -

Ava swears she passes out.

when she comes to, the first thing she sees is the near panic on Beatrice's face, an expression Ava hates and instantly surges forward to abate with a touch at Beatrice's wrist. "i'm here," Ava says, and feels Beatrice instantly relax.

"are you alright?" she asks, her brow lined with worry. if Ava still had a face, she'd frown (she misses that too, making faces, feeling her feelings on her face) because of course she's alright, she's invisible, nothing can hurt her while she's like this.

then she notices Beatrice's gaze shift to the side - and finally sees the cause for her concern: the long line of dumbbell stands where Ava had been hovering, now overturned like dominoes.

"oops," is all Ava can manage as Beatrice makes a sound that sounds like a sigh and a laugh wrapped in one, "my bad."

[tennessoui]

For whenever you feel in the playmaker writing mood, I would love to read the scene where Anakin comes home to baby Ray and is just like what. what.

here you go!!! 2.5k of playmaker au, specifically anakin coming home to find that obi-wan has stolen a baby from a grocery store

(warnings: playmaker anakin? specifically playmaker anakin about babies?)

(2.5k)

When Anakin opens the door to his house to the ear-splitting sound of a baby crying, he almost closes it once more to check that he has the correct place. But of course he does. No one else’s entryway could possibly be this messy. 

Luke and Leia’s shoes are thrown in a hectic pile by the doormat, Luke’s football balanced precariously on the toes of his cleats. Leia’s school bag has been discarded on the short bench Obi-Wan had wheedled one of Anakin’s men into installing, built into the wall. 

It’s definitely Anakin’s house; over the wailing of the strange baby, he can hear his own baby’s low murmurs. Frozen as he is with the door half open and half closed, he can even hear the distinct whine of Luke’s voice.

His eyebrows furrow; he steps forward, firmly into the house, and shuts the door behind him. His jacket has barely cleared his shoulders before the pattering of little feet greet him.

“Make him give it back!” Leia’s voice shrieks out. It’s a particularly grating sound, one that Anakin hasn’t heard for several years and absolutely has not missed.

He closes his eyes and intentionally hangs his gun holster on the hook next to his jacket. “What did Luke take, baby?” “Nothing!” Luke cries. He sounds just as distraught as his sister. Anakin exhales slowly through his nose before turning around and crouching down. One twin immediately comes within the circle of his arms. The other hangs back, looking distrustful.

Which is probably why Leia will be the one to inherit his criminal empire when it’s time. 

“What did you take, Luke?” he asks his son, hefting him up into the air as he stands. “And whose fucking baby is that screaming?”

There’s muted movement from the other end of the long entrance hallway, and then Obi-Wan Kenobi rounds the corner, arms full of a baby swaddled in a yellow blanket. Its face is red from crying, but it’s seemingly more content now. A pacifier has been stuck in its mouth at least.

“Yours,” Obi-Wan says primly, adjusting his hold on the baby.

Anakin squints at him and then down at the child. “Well that’s a fucking lie, sweetheart,” he says, taking a cautious step forward. Leia skitters to duck behind his leg.

Smart girl. If Obi-Wan thinks—what, that Anakin slept with a woman a year ago while on a business trip—who knows what the boy is capable of? After all, Obi-Wan values loyalty above all else. 

“Cause I don’t remember anyone else in my bed but you,” he adds, eyes examining the play of shadows and emotions across Obi-Wan’s face. The other man’s hair is up in a loose bun. He’s wearing the remnants of a respectable suit. He doesn’t look like a boy who is planning to cut his losses and run out of Coruscant tonight.

Not that he’d get far, of course, but he certainly doesn’t look like a man who is planning to try. 

“If people are only yours by blood, does that mean I’m free to go?” Obi-Wan replies archly, turning his back to Anakin and marching into their living room. 

Anakin watches him go, speechless. 

He crouches down on the ground again and carefully places his son back onto the floor. “Luke, baby, Leia,” he says, unable to take his eyes off of the empty doorway. “Go upstairs.”

“Make him give it back, Daddy,” Leia says, tugging on the edge of his shirt. “I don’t like it.”

“Mhm,” Anakin replies. From what he’s seen so far, he isn’t much of a fan either. “Go.”

They go, and Anakin allows himself a few moments to stare after them consideringly. One day, eventually, he will need them to be something more than well-trained puppies. He will need them to be something even more than attack dogs.

But that is a conundrum for a later day. Now, he stands on his feet and follows after his boy, who he can still hear gently murmuring in the living room. 

He leans against the doorway. Obi-Wan does not look as if he is going to throw anything at him or harm him bodily in any sort of way, but one can never be too sure with him. It’s part of the reason Anakin finds him so fascinating still after all these years.

But then, his little mouse has never so far stooped to physical violence. That’s more of Anakin’s beast.

“It’s not mine,” he says. It’s best to state these things clearly. “I want it out of the house. It’s upsetting the children.”

Obi-Wan does not look up from the baby in his arms. Its eyes are closed now, expression lax and trusting. The pacifier is still in its mouth. “She’s mine,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing over the skin of its cheek.

Anakin stills, half a step forward.

It’s two offenses in one blow. Obi-Wan’s attention is solidly on something not Anakin, when Anakin is speaking so directly to him. And if Obi-Wan says the baby is his, then he’s implying that he slept with some woman a year ago during one of Anakin’s business trips.

The image the sentence puts into his head has Vader roaring to the surface of his mind between one blink and the next. “If you think I would not hurt an infant for the crime of representing a past dalliance of yours, you are gravely mistaken,” he warns, hand clenching into a fist at his side. “So speak carefully, little mouse.”

“Monster,” Obi-Wan says, keeping his tone light. Keeping his eyes away from Vader’s face. He carefully raises the baby up and tilts his head down until he can rub his nose ever so gently against the baby’s own tiny nose.

“Yes,” Vader says stiffly. “So get rid of it or I will.”

Obi-Wan finally looks up at him. His eyes are blue steel.

Fuck, Vader hasn’t seen him look this stubborn about anything since he was tried in criminal court for the murder of Savage Oppress.

“No,” Obi-Wan says succintly. “She’s ours.”

This more than anything gives Anakin pause. “What.”

Obi-Wan raises to his feet and deposits the baby into a crib a few feet away. How had Anakin missed the fucking crib? When did Obi-Wan have the time to find a fucking crib?

“She’s our baby,” Obi-Wan says, running his hand along the edge of the crib. His head comes up and he gives Anakin a hard stare as if daring him to disagree. “She’s ours or she’s mine.”

There it is.

“You’re handing out ultimatums like that now, sweetheart?” Vader asks, stepping into the room and prowling towards his husband. “Think that’s smart, little mouse? Think you can threaten me like that? Think you can do that with no punishment?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan murmurs. His voice is rough. He moves to the outside of the crib, hands grasping the edges and body turned to face Vader as he approaches. “Because I’m serious, Anakin. I’m not going to give her away. I want her. You’re going to let me have her.”

“And its parents?” Anakin asks, boxing Obi-Wan in against the crib. “Its actual parents?”

“She’s adopted.”

“Did you steal it from an orphanage, Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s eyebrows fly up at the very idea. He still has to coax his little mouse into doing things of even a slight criminal nature half the time. His little mouse hates sitting on Anakin’s lap during his meetings, hates all the trappings and police tape that comes with being a mob wife.

It’s his past. It’s his sheriff father. It’s the talons of Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost still sunk deep into his soul. It’s all of that shit, and despite it all, Anakin loves him. As much as a man like him, a man like Vader can love.

Obi-Wan’s flash away for a second. It’s an admittance of guilt. His cheeks begin to flush red.

“No,” he says and hesitates, pink mouth torn open. Anakin’s face breaks into the beginnings of a smile. His hands fall to rest on his waist. What’s going to come out of Obi-Wan’s mouth next will probably be the best confession he’s heard all day. “I stole her from her stroller.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. 

“Excuse me?”

Obi-Wan’s chin juts up as he frowns at Anakin. “I stole her from her stroller. Her parents left her unattended. And–I wanted her.”

He isn’t sure if his eyebrows will ever lower. “You wanted her.”

“I wanted a baby,” Obi-Wan says very clearly. “The twins are old and they hate me now. I wanted a baby again.”

“The twins are not old,” Anakin replies automatically. “They’re ten. They’re children.”

His little mouse’s lips stay curled in a stubborn moue of defiance. 

“They don’t hate you,” he adds. “They adore you, baby. You know that. What they hate is that thing,” his hand gestures over Obi-Wan to encompass the crib and the baby. “Leia begged me to make you give it back.”

“Oh and how would that go?” Obi-Wan sniffs, looking haughtily down his nose at Anakin, as if he weren’t the one who just stole a fucking baby in broad daylight. “Oh, so sorry, I didn’t mean to take your baby, I just tripped and fell and it landed in my grocery cart by accident.”

“You stole a baby from a grocery store?” 

But Obi-Wan’s eyes are narrowed in consideration and a second later, he’s changing tactics. His hands slip from their defensive position on the crib’s edge, run up the length of Anakin’s arms to rest on the sides of his neck. His eyes go half-lidded. His mouth gets all glistening and wet. “Daddy,” he says.

“No,” Anakin says. “You can’t fuck your way into a baby, Obi-Wan—”

“I thought that’s how most couples got a baby,” Obi-Wan points out.

“You can’t banter your way into a baby either, fuck, Obi-Wan—”

“I can,” his boy says confidentally, pushing up against Anakin’s hips. “Because I really want a baby. And I already found a baby. Her name is Rey.”

“No, don’t name it, you’ll get attached to it—”

“I love you,” Obi-Wan murmurs. He pushes forward and stands up on his toes so that he can rub his nose along the line of Anakin’s jaw. “I want to raise a child with you. Just you and me, she’ll never know another parent. Don’t you want to raise a baby with someone you love? Someone you trust? You’ll never have to kill me. You know I love you—every part of you.”

Unlike your first wife, goes unsaid. Unlike the mother of your children.

It doesn’t go unheard.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin groans, but he tightens his grip on the boy’s waist. “You stole a baby.”

“I murdered a good man for you,” he murmurs, dragging his lips over his. “I murdered a bad man for the twins. I stole a baby for us. Look what you’ve made me. Look what you’ve turned me into, darling.”

Anakin bites back another groan. His little mouse plays dirty now that Anakin’s taught him how. Or maybe that’s always been a part of him. Maybe that ruthless streak, that cunning brutality has always been there; maybe that’s what drew him to the undercover detective in the first place.

“Did you kill the parents at least?” Anakin asks, eyes falling closed. He cannot believe the words coming out of his mouth.

He cannot believe how easily he gave into those fucking blue eyes. 

“That’s your job,” Obi-Wan tells him, pressing a kiss to his lips. For a reward.

“Did you mock up the paperwork to make it look like a legal adoption?”

“Also your job,” Obi-Wan says again, brushing another kiss to Anakin’s face. Anakin’s hand grips the back of Obi-Wan’s hair, holding him close and in place.

“Obi-Wan…”

“I told the twins though,” Obi-Wan says quickly. He hooks his leg around the back of Anakin’s calf, winding his arms solidly around his neck.

“Yeah?” Anakin murmurs, letting his other hand trail down over the small of his back. “How’d they take that, baby?” Obi-Wan is silent. 

“Yeah,” Anakin says. “That’s what I thought.” Sharing their Obi-Wan’s attention? It’s bad enough they have to split it with each other and Anakin. Now there’s an entirely new thing demanding Obi-Wan’s time. His attention. His arms.

Anakin scowls automatically, just thinking about it.

“They’ll get used to her,” Obi-Wan says. His hands tighten on the back of Anakin’s neck. “They’re growing up. They don’t need me as much anymore.” His eyes are wet and big when he looks up at Anakin. He’s almost too tall to pull the move off anymore. “I just…I want to be needed, Ani. You’ve gotten me spoiled on the feeling. And I—I can’t go back to the other way.”

“Baby, of course we need you,” Anakin says, using his grip on Obi-Wan’s lower back to push him pointedly up against his covered cock.

Obi-Wan sighs into the kiss Anakin pushes on his mouth, and when he pulls back, he looks so fucking despondent that Anakin’s patience for anything but wiping that look from his little mouse’s face evaporates.

“Stop it,” he commands, thumbing at the skin beneath Obi-Wan’s eye rather roughly. “Stop it, we’re keeping it. Fine. We’re keeping it.”

“And you’ll talk to the twins?” Obi-Wan’s voice wavers. There’s at least a thirty percent chance it’s genuine emotion. “Tell them that she’s family? And that means they must protect her? Care for her even if they don’t love her?” Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up. Even though he’s been dead three years, Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost seems to haunt half of Obi-Wan’s deeply rooted ideas and values. 

“I’ll get Rex and Ahsoka to start on the papers,” Anakin mutters, pulling away reluctantly from his husband’s all too soft and willing body—now that he’s gotten his way.

The baby—Rey, Anakin supposes—begins to whine once more.

Immediately, instinctively almost, Obi-Wan flips himself around so that he’s facing the crib, peering into and reaching down.

Out of curiosity, Anakin slots himself up against his back, unable to resist the slightest roll of his hips.

The baby blinks up at him. Her face is all squishy and red. Her eyes are clear, blue still, though Leia’s eyes were blue when she was born. Rey’s fingers dance in the air as she reaches for Obi-Wan plaintatively. 

The twins are not going to be happy.

But Obi-Wan is. He’s incandescent as he allows her to wrap her tiny fingers around his index finger.

“Does she at least have red hair?” Anakin murmurs, fairly plaintative himself. “It’ll be easier to trick myself into loving her if she looks like you.”

“She’s mine,” Obi-Wan replies, looking back at him slightly, hand still tangled with the infant’s. “You’ll love her.”

It still sounds like an ultimatum.

Anakin sighs; Anakin capitulates.