#his face is half visible and half hidden

[ilygetou]

satoru eating you out through your panties <3

C/W: overstimulation, attempts of dirty talk, just satoru messily playing with your pussy from above your panties while also attempting to eat you out (๑˙ー˙๑).

NOTE. here’s the continuation/pt2 of this thirst.

“relax...” he coos, his voice soft and gentle. Your legs were wrapped around his neck, your breath hitching every time he’d go in to lick your pussy from above your panties. Body squirming and eyes going hazy.

“satoru no, i–i...” your voice caught short once gojo started rubbing his fingers on your clit, “c’mon baby, wanna do the same thing you did to me,” he kept rubbing slow circles around your clit, your panties getting drenched with your slick, you stared back at gojo with droopy eyes, gripping his hair once he dived in to give your cunt a kiss.

Your panties were already so drenched which resulted into having your cunt visible from above the wet undergarments, the fabric was thin that every time gojo spreads your folds with his fingers, your panties move slightly to the side–giving your boyfriend a small peek of your exposed cunt.

Gojo had a sheepish grin on his face which immediately curved into a wide smirk once he looked up to meet your half-lidded eyes as your mouth hung ajar—low pants leaving you. He kept rubbing your clit through your panties while his mouth went in and started licking on your slit, slightly pushing the thin fabric of your panties against your hole.

“s-satoru...” a shattered whine of his name left you, making gojo look up to you once again, his mouth still attached to your clothed cunt. “hm?” he managed to let out but came out a little bit muffled. “Please, w-want more,” satoru backed away—a chuckle escaping him.

“Nuh-uh, wanna have you experience the same feeling i experienced” gojo reattached his mouth to your now see-through panties, he swirled his tongue around your clit before playfully biting on it—which caused you to gasp & tighten your grip on satoru’s hair.

He’s wrapping his lips over your clit once again, feverishly suckling on the swollen flesh. Satoru was tempted to just move your panties to the side and eat you out like a starved man who hadn’t eaten in weeks. The idea was enticing but satoru wasn’t about to give up so easily. Even if he’s currently losing his mind to actually get a taste of your pussy.

“S-Satoru—please, s’close!” satoru’s tongue was dancing over your folds, warping and swiveling the mushy flesh until your legs started to shake you arched your back as loud moans left you, as your hand was still gripping satoru’s locks tightly.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks with your jaw slightly hanging open but no words were escaping your lips, your body spasmed, your grip on satoru’s hair loosened as you held onto the sheets underneath you instead—before you came really hard, drenching your panties even more with your cum.

Satoru was kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as he looked up to you, licking his lips, practically tasting your cum on his tongue already. You swallowed thickly, meeting his intense gaze on you and before you could mutter or say anything— satoru has beat you to it.

“I’m not done with you just yet,” satoru had a shit-eating grin as he moved your panties to the side, revealing the mess that was hidden beneath the thin fabric.

[mavigator]

i talked about it a little bit already but i have things to say about it. for context, i was born with amniotic band syndrome. the amniotic band wrapped around my left wrist in utero and stunted the growth of my hand. i was born with about half a palm, four nubs for fingers, and a twisted half of a thumb. i can open and close my thumb and pinkie joint like a claw.

yesterday at work i had a shift in the room with 5-10 year old kids. i had my left hand hidden in my sleeve (a bad habit of mine). a kid asked if he could see my hand, and even though internally i was debating running into traffic, i said “sure you can” and showed him my hands. he stared for a moment, looking disturbed, and then said “i don’t want to look at that anymore”. that hurt to hear, but i understand that kids are new to the world and he probably didn’t mean it out of malice. i put my hand away again, told him that it was okay, and that i was just born that way.

he then went on to talk about how he knows a kid with a similar hand to mine and called it “ugly”. i told him that wasn’t a very kind thing to say and that he wouldn’t feel good if someone said that to him, and he replied that no one would say that to him—because he has “normal hands”, and he’s glad he does because otherwise he’d be “ugly”. i tried to talk with him for a bit about how everybody is born differently, but he just started talking about a girl he knows with a “messed up face” and pulled on his face to make it look droopy. i went on some more about how it wasn’t very kind to talk about people that way, but the conversation moved on to something else.

i’ve told my supervisors about it and they’re going to have a talk with his mom. what i wanted to say is this: i’m genuinely not upset with the kid. kids are young and naturally curious, and he clearly simply hasn’t been taught about disabled people and kind ways to speak to/about others. which is why i am upset with his parent(s). i know he’s encountered visibly deformed/disabled people before (he said so himself!), yet his parent(s) clearly haven’t had any kind of discussion with him about proper language and behavior. i knew from birth that some people were just different than others, but my parents still made a point to assert to be kind to and accepting of others. i wonder if adults in his life are the type of people to hush him and usher him away when he points out someone in a wheelchair. that kind of thing doesn’t teach politeness. it tells children that disabled people are an Other than can’t be acknowledged or spoken about; which, to a child, means disability must be something bad.

i’m lucky enough that this was a relatively mild incident, and that i’m a grownup with thicker skin. i’m worried about the other kids he mentioned to me. has he been talking to them this way? when i was a kid, i had other kids scream, cry, and run away at the sight of my hand. or follow me around pointing at me and laughing at me. or tell me i couldn’t do something because i was ugly or incapable or whatever. one time a girl at an arcade climbed to the top of the skeeball machine, pointed at me, and screamed at me to put my hand away and wouldn’t stop crying until she couldn’t see me anymore. another time, a kid saw my hand, screamed at the top of her lungs, and ran into my friend’s arms, crying hysterically about how i was scaring her. that second incident made me cry so hard i threw up when i got home. i can kind of laugh it off now, but having people react to me that way as a child is something i’m still getting over. why do you think i have a habit of keeping my hand in my sleeve? it just irritates me to see children that have clearly not been taught basic manners and kindness—their parents Clearly missed something pretty important .

[stave-writes]

Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

[panboiiibish]

Thinking about monsters right now. More specifically shark mer and his little scuba diver human again. This is for all the lovelys that liked him so much!

The great white mer ignores the shocked sailors and keeps on with his exploration of your neoprene suit. The texture of your skin peeking from the fabric is what makes him most curiouse. It's so much more softer then his salt water damaged scales and scar littered skin.

With your heart is hammering at your ribs like a jackhammer you cant help exploring him a bit too. His short choppy black hair as the first thing to stick out to you. Its messily cut though long enough so your shaky fingers can lace into it and give a soft tug. A ting attempt to pull him away that enticed a soft rumble from the mer. His just as dark and eyes gleamed up at you as they narrowed at your gesture.

He loved the fear but now that you squirmed and even tugged at him he couldn't help but love the little fight too. Really made his gills flare as he took in a deep breath of your sweet scent mixed in with the saltiness of the sea.

With your squirming go on he knew you had no wiggle room to escape his hands went back to squeezing and pinching at your oddly covered body. Till his claw finding the little metal bit right at the nape of your neck again. Hooking his claw into it he gave a soft tug and almost preened as the material around your neck loosened and your pretty little hands raced to grab at his working wrist. A slight panic in your eyes begged him not too.

And that led to him tugging it further down with his body shifting slightly closer to get a better look at your panicked expression. It was like a little game seeing how you squirmed under him while moving to press your hands against his shoulders in another weak attempt to push him away.

He truly liked it, feeling you skin so warm under his claws while getting to see more of your bare body that was hidden under the thick suit of rubber. It made him just more curiouse while you where just happy that you wore a bikini under the diving gear. Having the boat workers still peeked at the two of you making sure there wasn't and blood coming from the hanging cage made your skin warm just a bit more knowing they could see as your back slowly became more visible from the bars barely concealing the two of you.

The shark mer didn't seem to care, he could easily slip right back out of the cage with you in tow if wanted. But seeing your shiny wet skin shine in the sunlight while having your form perfectly pinned was nice enough that he didn't want to move from the oddly comfortable position.

Having your soft pretty skin under his rough hands made him almost pur in excitement as his claws glided over your curves. Softly poking at the soft of your belly and swell of your thighs before wrapping his large hands around your legs for a closer inspection. That was what had most of his attention. Your soft legs and the warmth seeping from your skin was such a strong contrast from his sandpaper tail and chilled skin.

in your little wiggling attempts you ended up with a knee to his already quite bent nose. So in little retaliation his form shifted forcing your back onto the cage floor and legs up around his shoulders. It was better this way, having those pesky legs immobile while keeping you pinned so he could keep on exploring. This also gave you a better view of not just his broad shoulders and rugged face.

You could now see his scars truly did litter his skin, light pink splashes and bites marred the grey and pale skin that consisted of his human and shark halfs. But so did a few items poked from said scars. On the lower parts on the back of his tail showed a few fishhookes and even a torn net. And he wasn't as muscled as you thought he would be. Well he definitely had muscles just they where covered in what felt like a thick lair of fat giving him the build of almost like a rugby player.

Broad shoulders with thick tree like arms that kept one of your thighs pinned to his soft chest. While the other hand went to toying with your blunt nails and almost webless fingers. He seemed so interested in the differences of your bodies but also in how warm yours was.

By now it felt intentional when he made your skin warm in embarrassment. Doing things like fully removing your dive gear and brushing his claws against sensitive areas. Your jolts and whimpers mate his tail slightly sway over the air as the boat slowly moved from its original spot.

The sailors had whispered out to you that they would get back to land and see if any officials would be able to help with your... predicament. Though for now they wouldn't even dare try shooing him off in fear of those sharp rows of teeth that he flashes when one of the other humans gets just a bit too close.

This is Pan! And here is another mer thinking about XD I was not planning to make another untill I got more of his character thought up but with how my og post blew up and even got Comments! ⊙○⊙ I just had to do another >///< anyways give me some name ideas if yah want! I'm so bad at naming i^i Have a nice night and comment if yah have ideas! :3

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT-

A oneshot where the rest of the hazbin crew finding out that Alastor already owned Reader's soul?! Fluff btw!

Like like

"Some overlord owns your soul?? Who?!"

Reader: "hahaha.. I wonder who.."

Husk: "you don't wanna know."

Alastor sipping his tea on the other side of the room (obviously listening in)

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS ]

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[ SFW ] + [ FLUFF ] [ SLIGHT LANGUAGE WARNING ]

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The Hotel was abuzz with life; Charlie rushed around checking in with everyone as they worked on various tasks, and said occupants tried their best to focus amid her constant scurrying.

The Princess of Hell had decided a Grand Opening event would benefit the Hotel.

You didn’t think it was half a bad idea, recently a resident of the newly improved establishment yourself and a sinner with a rare knack for helping others. The promise of redemption did seem silly to you, but the idea was fresh, and you desired to see if it was possible before completely disregarding the Princess’s dream.

You gave a helping hand whenever asked, smiled as kind as ever, and had a genuine nature subtly, inviting the others closer into your friendly aura.

Angel referred to you often as the “sweetest doll in the shop,” poking fun at your generous endeavors, but truly a fan of your presence nonetheless. Vaggie came to you for advice often, needing a calmer voice of reason when Charlie’s overbearing tendencies became too much for her, and you’d give your time graciously. Husk and Niffty, you knew all too well before you arrived at the Hotel, generally comfortable in their company and able to enjoy a drink with them occasionally.

Everyone cherished you in one way or another, which showed significantly in their approach to you.

Angel, as vulgar as he was, tended not to tease you as often as the others. Though there were times he couldn’t resist a good jab at your modesty, amused by how quickly you blushed while attempting to stutter out an equally snarky remark.

The two of you were at it now, taunting one another while giving a once over of the hotel's new advertisement flyers, but your focus was nowhere near the polished posters as you tried to retort Angel's last statement. He’d made another comment about your avoidance of the hotel's resident facilities manager.

Alastor…

The mere sound of his name made you skittish and visibly flustered, and Angel took notice of said reactions very quickly. “You sleepin’ around with him, aren’t ya toots?…” He snickered as you froze up, ears fluttering down as your eyes widened in his direction, “N-no!? Angel…you shouldn’t say things like that!” You puffed your cheeks out, the tip of your ears turning bright red as the spider demon cackled across from you, “Hah! You aren’t denying it either, doll face, so now I know it’s true!..”

“No, it’s not Angel!…” you grumbled childishly, glancing around the room apprehensively as if the overload would emerge from the shadows at any moment, and he very well could…

However, Alastor remained hidden, shadow lingering on an armchair in the dimmest corner of the room, and his attention fully fixed on your exchange with the raunchy spider as it progressed.

The deer demon was intrigued by the interaction, mildly curious about how you’d handle Angels prying, and quietly prideful of his effect on you.

“You can’t fool me toots. I see how you look at ‘em’ when he’s in a room. He breathes, and you’re a mess! It’s actually kinda cute how much you like him!” You glared at Angel, ears standing straight as you seethed at him, “I. Don’t. Like. Him…”

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward with a coy smirk, “Really? So it’s just a coincidence you get all nervous around him but do everything he says without question?… “ Angel was unfazed by the quiet growl you responded with, “That doesn’t mean I fancy him-“

“Okay, so how else would you explain it then?” Angel sat back, arms folding over his chest and torso as he peered at you expectantly.

By this point, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk were listening to the rift between you two. Although, Husk lost notable interest when he realized the subject of discussion while the others subconsciously chimed in without warning.

“He’s right, though..” Vaggie stared at you intensely, trying to piece together clues you swore weren’t there, to begin with, and Charlie soon joined her in the friendly interrogation. “Did you know Alastor before you came here or something? You do act a little off when he’s around…”

For the love of Satan!

Why couldn’t they just let it go?!?

You huffed and hung your head, agitated with so much attention being thrown onto you and becoming uncomfortable under pressure.

The matter of your soul belonging to Alastor was a subject you weren’t fond of breaching for several reasons.

1. Everyone would want to know why and how the arrangement occurred.

2. You were afraid they’d look at you differently, as less than worthy of being treated as a friend or reduced to being Alastor’s property and nothing else…

In reality, you meant much more to the overload than that, but no sinner needed to know such a thing, and to an extent, you weren't aware of his affection either.

Alastor preferred it that way.

It gave the overlord a vague thrill to leave you clueless about his infatuation while enjoying the way you couldn’t hide your adoration for him…

He chuckled to himself watching you squirm under the group's collective curiosity, admiring the deep rose color that set into your cheeks as you pouted.

Precious little thing…

The stag’s grin grew as the thought settled in his mind, eyes hooding over as a hum filled his chest, and though the sound was quiet, you still heard it.

He was there.

In the same room.

Waiting and watching…

Fantastic…

A small groan fell from your lips as you lifted your head, gaze shifting around the room to pinpoint where Alastor was, but there was no trace of him…

Or so you thought…

“My, my, you all are a nosy bunch! Leave the poor dear alone …” Alastor appeared behind you, mic in one hand while the other came to rest on your head.

He petted your hair softly, silently comforting your frazzled state, and you welcomed the gesture with a soft sigh.

Angel raised a brow at the sight, gaze shifting from your content expression to Alastor’s satisfied one as he caressed your ears. “See, this is what I was talking about. You act as if he owns you or something-“

Alastor whipped his head in Angel's direction, startling him and the others a bit as he interjected the observation. “That’s because I do own her, my good man. Mind. Body. & Soul…” The air grew thick with static, an uneasy wave of tension drowning the hotel lobby as Alastor glared daggers at everyone.

However, you still sat obediently under his touch without anxiety clouding your demeanor.

Charlie laughed nervously while Vaggie’s eyes widened as the revelation dawned on them both. Angel's mouth fell open, and Husk grumbled before rolling his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious…” the winged feline mumbled to no one in particular, refocusing on organizing the bar's alcohol arrangement as the conversation carried on.

“A-Alastor owns your soul?” Charlie asked, clearly shocked but actively masking it with a light-hearted tone. You nod slowly, choosing not to speak as his claws scratch behind your ears tenderly.

Vaggie shrugged, “Now, it makes sense…”

Angel finally clasped his mouth shut, stifling a laugh as he leaned further back into the parlor's sofa. “So I was right!” He shouted triumphantly, which earned a side glare from you. “Oh, shut up! Just because he owns my soul doesn’t mean I like him…”

Alastor gave you a quizzical look, humming thoughtfully as he processed your words, “Is that so, my dear?… You feel nothing for me at all?…”

Oh….maybe I shouldn’t have said that-!

Your mind raced to find a suitable reply, but all you could manage was a shaky laugh. “W-well, I wouldn’t say…’n-nothing’…”

His smile grew, “Would you like to elaborate on your true feelings for me in private, then?…”

“Sounds kinky…” Angels mumbled cheekily while flashing a closed-eye smirk, but neither Alastor nor you offered the remark a response.

“Wait, where’d they go?!..” The spider demon sat up pin straight as he realized you two were no longer in the room. The only sign left of your disappearance was the lingering tufts of black shadows swirling the spot he’d seen you and Alastor occupying a moment ago.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, turning on her heel to return to the task she’d left undone moments ago, “Not my business…” she sighed.

Charlie followed after her, stuck between confusion and giddiness over the newfound information, “I would’ve never thought Y/n belonged to Alastor. Wait, do you think she can still be redeemed, or are there strings attached…?”

Her rambling continued on as everyone found themselves busy again.

Everyone except you and Alastor…

You found yourself all alone with the owner of your soul, hidden in his infamous Radio Tower with the beginnings of a confession poised to slip from your tongue as he sat you in his lap.

“Now, I believe you were going to tell me exactly how you feel, darling….” Alastor lowered his head, hands resting on your waist to keep you flush against his chest, and your heart nearly flew from your chest as he did.

“You have my full attention, sweetheart.”

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I rewrote this five times….all because of writer's block :( ❤️ someone please send help -I'm hanging on by a thread rn…

[ NO BONUS CONTENT - ]

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

plum

reprised edition

a/n: this guy has been on my mind lately, so i decided to do a thing i've been thinking about since i wrote this story: stitch this whole series into one huge oneshot, edit it, fine-tune it and finally round it off from where i just dropped it one and a half years ago.

summary: “fuck…” all the air escaped Tommy’s lungs, “I thought she was dead…” his glistening eyes didn’t rip away from your frame for even a second as he revealed, “yeah… yeah, I know her. She’s like family.”

warnings: joel miller x former firefly!reader, reprised version of my series plum, smut, dark content (traumatic past including: forced pregnancy, rape, drugging, essentially being held as a slave, death/murder, solitary confinement, suicidal thoughts), rape recovery, jackson era, age gap (20 years), fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, blood and gore, torture, ptsd, panic attacks, nightmares, crying, alcohol consumption, slow burn, bff!tommy, love confessions, kissing, dirty talk, masturbation, dry humping, pussyjob, light choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, angsty ending/cliff hanger

word count: 15.180

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Clenching your fists together tight enough that the bones creaked under the pressure, you sucked in a sharp breath and readied yourself for the heavy footsteps making their way around the corner to where you hid. As soon as you saw a bright flashlight flicker in your direction, you pounced, opting to immediately jump the figure, rather than act too late and having history repeat itself. Alas, your attempted ambush didn’t pay out as you only managed to get a few good hits in before the man’s might came down upon you.

“Joel?” a different man shouted from the room opposite the one you’d hidden in, obviously picking up on the scuffle. 

Your next punch then promptly fell short as the unexpectedly familiar rough voice sent goosebumps all over your already freezing skin. 

You knew that voice… no doubt in your mind who it was…

“Tommy?” you just managed to call out to the not-yet-visible man, quickly coming to your attacker’s aid, before your weakened stance sent the whole scuffle directly into the rough concrete wall to the right, your already bruised temple colliding with it and knocking you clean out. 

Rushing into the room, gun already lowering, Tommy swiftly extended an arm out to halt Joel as he instinctually followed your form as it dropped like a sack of potatoes, wholly ready to finish the job.

“Wait, stop!” 

Holding back his punch, Joel glanced up at his little brother, observing as his wide eyes raked over your unconscious figure. 

“What, do you know her or something?” he asked, the adrenaline causing the sentence to come out sounding rather vile. 

“Fuck…” all the air escaped Tommy’s lungs, “I thought she was dead…” his glistening eyes didn’t rip away from your frame for even a second as he revealed, “yeah… yeah, I know her. She’s like family.”

Jolting awake, a pair of hands quickly found your shoulders in a calming manner. 

“Wow, wow, it’s okay, plum, you’re alright, you’re safe,” your frantic eyes finally came to rest on Tommy’s figure sitting beside the cot you had been placed in. Answering before you even had the chance to ask or unravel any further, he continued, “you’re in Jackson, we brought you back home.”

Sitting on the small bed with a palm rooted on the mattress for support, you trembled, “I’m home?” and the floodgates immediately burst open, letting the relieved tears flow that you’d come to believe wouldn’t ever see the light of day. 

“You’re home,” the familiar person holding a worn clipboard at the foot of the cot nodded softly. 

“Doctor Duncan?” the friendly face made you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to bear the overwhelming nature of finally being safe.

“Hi Y/n,” she kneeled down to be more at your height and softly told you, “it’s good to have you back.”

Fighting hard not to let the dizzy feeling in your body win, you sobbed, “I can’t believe I’m actually here.” 

“All this time,” Tommy breathed, “I thought you were dead.”

Looking up into his glossy eyes, you admitted, “I almost was…”

Not being able to resist any longer, he asked, “did the others–, are they–”

“No…” you shook your head lightly and glanced down at the dark fleece blanket draped over your aching body, “they didn’t suffer though, it was quick, painless for them…”

You honestly hadn’t thought about any of the people you’d been travelling with in ages, out of the pure need to survive, but now that you finally did, the vile memories had your empty stomach clenching in need to vomit. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked, though was quickly counteracted by doctor Duncan’s soothing voice.

“You don’t have to answer that right now, sweetheart,” and gave you a pained glance.

Of course, Aria had gathered some pieces to the puzzle from just the minor check-up she had undoubtedly done as soon as you had been brought into the infirmary. She didn’t have to look any further than just your still faintly bruised wrists to get an idea of what horrors you had clawed your way out of to get back here. 

“I–…uhm…” you struggled to keep your breathing steady as you let your vision drift and the painful words fall from your lips, “we were ambushed by a group of hunters. They did what they do, killed everyone without even thinking twice about it… except when they found me,” you unconsciously dug your nails into the root of your palm, hard enough for the skin to break, “I was hiding and I could hear,” you closed your eyes, still recollecting the 2-year-old memory clear as day, “every single one of them get shot. One after the other, Trevor, Alice, Benny, Sam, almost rhythmically with how fast it was. But when they found me, they didn’t pull the trigger. Said that my head was too pretty to put a bullet through it. So instead, they just knocked me out. I woke up back at their base, chained in this cell… they–… they–…” as much as you wanted to tell these people you cared so much about every single horrifying thing you’d had to endure, you just couldn’t. The words physically wouldn’t come out of your mouth. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, tight enough that they hurt, Tommy’s quiet voice pulled you back from the black hole of memories you’d found yourself in. 

“Jesus christ, Y/n…” he uttered, barely breathing at all.

Since your old home here in Jackson had long been occupied by somebody else, Tommy had insisted that you stay at his and Maria’s house, just till you got back on your feet, and they could find you somewhere more permanent to live. 

It took a bit, but eventually, Tommy managed to twist his big brother’s arm and get him to reluctantly give a hand at setting a room up for you. 

Ever since you’d gotten back, Joel had assumed that he had now understandably become a foe in your eyes with the less-than-pleasant way your first meeting had transpired. So, he just tried his best to stay far away from where you were, figured from the little he had heard through the grapevine that you’d been through enough and didn’t need to also deal with his old mug in the foreseeable future. 

But still, after finally setting down the hefty mattress the two brothers had hauled halfway through town, Joel couldn’t help but let some of his curiosity slip out, “why do you call her that anyway?”

“Huh?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow as he passed Joel the bottle of water he had just taken a healthy swig from himself.  

“Plum,” he accepted the much-needed drink, “why do you call her plum?”

“Oh, it’s kind of a funny story actually,” his little brother smiled, leaning back against the paint-chipped windowsill, “back in the beginning, not too long after I had joined the fireflies, she just showed up one day. Couldn’t have been more than–, hell, she couldn’t have been more than Ellie’s age back then. She just waltzed right up and demanded to speak to Marlene. And as a way to get her foot in the door, sweeten the deal a bit, her pockets were filled to the brim with plums. Fucking plums. Like, where did she even get them?” he laughed, finding the memory too entertaining for his own good, “so that’s how we introduced her, told Marlene that a little plum was here to speak to her. I guess the nickname just kinda stuck after that…”

“She was a firefly with you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “we even quit at the same time and travelled out here to Wyoming together.”

“So, you two really go way back then?” the older man commented, still oozing with mistrust.

“Joel,” Tommy caught his brother’s eye, “she was the best man at mine and Maria’s wedding. Yeah, we go way back,” a protectiveness glistened over him, “she’s like my little sister. She is my little sister.”

The dry twig that suddenly snapped underneath your boot caused the soft strumming, that you’d become so captivated by, to stop at once. Holding your breath, Joel’s eyes found yours. 

“I’m sorry,” you rushed out, all of a sudden feeling as if you’d been invading his privacy, “I–… I’m sorry…”

You hadn’t been able to sleep, so instead of just tossing and turning, you’d gone for a little walk around the slumbering town. It had not been your intention to spy on him, but the gentle music that reverberated from his guitar had drawn you in like a siren song, unintentionally making you step closer and closer to where he sat out on his dimly lit porch. 

“It’s fine, you don’t have anything to apologise for,” he swiftly set the instrument aside and averted his gaze, the action giving you a stomach ache. 

“No,” you moved a bit closer, slowly climbing the short steps, “I think I do…” and when you only received a furrowed brow in response, you continued softly, “I wanna apologise for punching you the other day.”

“Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused. 

“Because that’s not the kind of first impression that I wanted Tommy’s famed big brother to have of me,” you nervously bit down on your bottom lip. 

“What, he told you about me?”

“Yeah, honestly wouldn’t shut up about you. Practically idealised you,” you fiddled with your hands behind your back, “hell, I think he still does.”

“Well,” he nodded politely, still not letting his gaze stay upon you for too long at a time, “like I said, you have nothing to be sorry for,” then let out a deep sigh, “I, however, would like to apologise to you… I didn’t know who you were, and if I did, then I wouldn’t have just­–”

“It’s fine,” you cut in, your face briefly crinkling up in unease, “if the roles were reversed, I’d have done the exact same,” trying and failing to catch his eye, you asked, “we square?”

“Yeah,” he offered you a light nod, keeping his vision fixed upon his interlocked hands resting in his lap. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, leaning back against the railing, “good.”

“Gotta give it to you though,” he let out just the essence of a chuckle, “you throw a mean punch.”

Biting down on your blooming smile, you confirmed assuredly, “yeah, I know.”

Shaky breaths flowed in and out past your lips as you pressed your forehead against the majestic animal standing before you in the dark barn.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you sniffled quietly, attempting to ground yourself as you stroked your palm over the horse’s dark coat, “I’m home, I’m safe, I-I’m okay…”

Hearing footsteps suddenly approach the dark stall you were standing in, a rough voice broke the silence of the early morning hours, “hey Viking,” the horse by you puffed gently at the man in acknowledgement, “you ready to go?” then as he rounded the corner and finally caught sight of you, his brisk stride halted completely, “oh, hi.”

“Hi Joel,” you rushed to wipe the runny snort from your nose and the flowing tears from your cheeks, then attempted a forced smile, “you gonna head out on patrol?”

“I, uhm,” his brows furrowed in concern, “yeah.” 

“You’ve been taking a lot of shifts lately,” you noticed, “don’t you usually wait till the sun comes up to leave?” 

“Sometimes,” he purposely kept his replies short, then surprised you by asking softly, “you know Viking?” and reached up to pet the horse’s broad cheek himself. 

“Yeah, we know each other pretty well me and him,” your faked smile grew a little more genuine, “we used to go out on patrol all the time back in the day.”

“Really? Do you–, uh, you want him back?” 

“Nah, I can see he really likes you. You two make a pretty good team… Anyhow,” you glanced down at the hay-covered floor, “I don’t think I’d be that much fun for him to hang out with since I’m not so sure I’m quite ready to go out yet… think it’s at least smart to wait till I start sleeping through the night again,” you tried to jest, though didn’t manage to gain any reaction from Joel.

Lightly chewing on his inner cheek, he stared down at you with such empathy that you feared your tears might pick up again, “is that why you came out here? Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “I don’t really sleep anymore… and if I do, then I–… I am right back there… wake up screaming or crying… and I can’t talk to Tommy about all of this,” you shut your eyes a moment, “he knows me too well and I just can’t bear to see that look on his face,” locking in on Joel’s dark eyes, you uttered, “like I’m breaking his heart beyond repair.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel averted his gaze and then tried, “is there anything I can do? You can have as much time with Viking as you’d like, if that could help.”

Letting out a choked chuckle at his offhand offer, you then bit down on your bottom lip, “could you–… uhm…” you scrunched up your face and wrestled with the internal debate of if you should actually ask him or not, “it’s gonna sound silly, but could you maybe just hold my hand? Just for a little bit?”

Sucking in a breath that he never quite seemed to let out again, he glanced down at your right hand and nodded lightly, “sure,” then held his own out, palm up, for you to grasp. 

For the first second, you noticed yourself stiffen up, then you abruptly felt your body let go in a way that it hadn’t quite done yet. Nearly instantaneously squeezing your eyes shut, you just tried to breathe through it, or frankly, just actually breathe at all. 

He was just holding your hand. How could such a tiny thing do so much? 

Joel didn’t say a word, not even let out a sound. He just stood there, holding your hand as you full-on broke down beside him. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you wept, the reaction not seeming to surprise him half as much as it did you. 

Running his thumb softly over your knuckles, he uttered simply, “it’s okay,” and you noticed how hard your body was shaking under his light grasp. 

“Y-you were on your way out and I’m keeping you, it’s–, I’m really sorry…”

“I’m not in any hurry, plum. I’ll head out whenever you’re ready. You just say the word and I’ll go.”

“Oh, man…” you breathed out as your fingertips ghosted over the dusty spines of the many novels lined up in front of you. 

You’d snuck out. Like a teenager in the night, you’d snuck out of Jackson. You weren’t particularly proud of it, being way too seasoned not to know the stupidity of not even leaving a note. 

But it was just a small trip, a few hours tops. You’d be back before anyone would realise you were gone. You just knew that they wouldn’t have let you go if you’d spoken up, at least not alone. 

With a few books already reserved, the hardcovers pressed tightly against your chest, locked in place by your forearm, you glanced up and spotted a particularly intriguing title, one that tickled a memory long forgotten. Lifting yourself onto your tiptoes and reaching your free hand up as far as it would go, your fingertips only managed to kiss the binding, not gaining nearly enough of a hold to get it down.

Giving it a few forceful pokes in hopes that it would just push the book enough for you to be able to grasp it fully and therefore quietly retrieve it, the hardcover instead came crashing down, causing not only a cloud of dust to puff up in the abandoned library but also sent a deafening thump echoing down deeper within the vast building. 

Freezing up, barely even breathing at all, you glanced down at the dropped book and a cluster of bloodcurdling, guttural screeches found your ears. As silently as you could manage, you reached for your knife, having not been able to grab a firearm back at Jackson since they were under much more severe security. 

Evidently, the library wasn’t as vacant as you’d thought. There turned out to be two, maybe three clickers scattered about, somewhere in the many rows of bookcases surrounding you. 

Needing both hands to defend yourself, you slowly shifted the books in your arm and slid the pile onto an open spot on the dusty shelf before you. Holding your breath, you hoped the action hadn’t created too much noise. 

Standing still, standing ever so still, you heard one of the creatures creep closer. Tightening your grip around the handle of your blade, you watched as the blooming fungi appeared around the corner. 

Debating for a moment if you should strike out or just keep standing there, hoping you could somehow hide amongst the stories long enough for you to eventually slip out, the sudden shriek it then produced as it whipped towards you decided your next move. 

Having luck on your side, your knife found purchases in the monster’s neck and as you sliced it open, exposing its mutated vocal cords. The clicker swiftly dropped to the floor, but the ruckus alarmed the rest of your exact location. 

With the second one being closer than you’d imagined, the fight was a struggle, and it ultimately forced you to the ground, the infected gnawed atop of you, biting the air in hopes that your tender flesh would accompany some of it. 

And just as you thought your doom had finally arrived, that you had lost all hope of triumph, a gunshot rang out amidst the books, blowing a lethal hole into the creature’s skull.

Sucking in a startled breath, you shoved the rotten corpse off of you. Before you could even manage to get back up on your feet, an outstretched hand appeared right in front of your face. 

Blinking up at Joel in alarm, the loud cry of the last remaining creature had you holding your sharp tongue. Accepting his aid, you got back up and quickly took a look around, prepared for the noisy gunshot to have sent the final one sprinting straight in your direction. 

As Joel spotted how your eyes promptly widened in horror, seizing the clue, he whirled around and covered your body with his broad form as he raised up his pistol, ready to unload into the clicker scampering towards you. 

It was only when it laid unmoving on the ground that you noticed how his hand was holding onto your midsection and shielding you protectively. Ripping it away at once, you then gave his sturdy form a big shove, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“What am I doing–, what are you doing here?” Joel bellowed, “the hell were you thinking running off like that? Do you know how reckless, how goddamn stupid that was?”

Fighting the urge to slap him across that salt-and-pepper cheek of his, you scowled, “did you follow me?”

Either he purposefully ignored your question or perhaps he was just way too wrapped up in his own fury not to let himself continue, “do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

“I can take care of a few infected myself,” you wiped your blade clean against your jeans, then folded it back up and tucked it away in your pocket. 

“I know that.”

“Then why–”

“Because the infected aren’t the only threat out here and you know it,” he dared to say. His twitching face softened ever so slightly at the grave look that promptly flooded your features, “they are still out there, Y/n.”

Blood boiling, you turned around on your heel, picked up the abandoned books and determinedly walked towards the exit, bumping your shoulder heatedly into him as you passed.

You’d nearly reached the outskirts of Jackson without uttering a single word to Joel. Not even once was a quick glance offered in his direction. It wasn’t like he had tried to get a verbal response from you since you’d exited the library, but just the fact that he was still there, following right behind you, just like the rapidly rising sun in the sky, made you feel like a ticking bomb.

Suddenly, you stopped your determined trek and broke the silence. 

“What made you think you have the right to do that, to say something like that? You don’t think I’m already painfully aware that they’re still out there?” the uncontrollable words spewed out passed your lips like venom, “you don’t know me, Joel. You don’t get to say stuff like that just because you’re Tommy’s brother.” 

“Y/n, I–”

Whirling around, you cut him off, tears blurring your bloodshot eyes, “do you really think I can’t protect myself? Protect myself against them? You don’t think I know them a hell of a lot better than any of you do? You don’t think I know all of their tactics, all of their ticks, exactly how they think better than any of you who haven’t even met them once? You don’t think I bothered to get to know every single detail about them when they held me captive? When they kept me as a fucking slave for their own sadistic pleasure? How do you think I finally escaped from there, huh? You think it was just dumb luck? Do you think I’m lucky? Is that what you would call luck? Would you really wanna call me of all people lucky?” you ignored your body’s wishes of throwing up your stomach contents instead of the painful sentences, “you have no idea what they did, what they–…” your voice broke, and you truly tried to continue, to speak, to share, knowing that the actual words would shut him up for good, but to no success. He didn’t say anything as he watched your lips frustratingly try over and over again to tell him, but in the end gave up, hissing at him right before you spun around again, “fuck you, Joel. I don’t want your help. I didn’t ask for it and I sure as hell don’t want it.”

As you began to walk away, his pleading voice stopped you, “don’t go after them on your own. With the resources here at Jackson, you could do it in a much smart way, in a way that doesn’t get you killed.”

Sniffling heatedly, you glared back at him, “what makes you think I’d actually do that?”

He glanced down at you in such a way that he looked like an immovable mountain, as if none of your threats had scared him off, “I know that look in your eye,” he uttered with unmistakable understanding shining clear through in his deep voice, “I know you’re desperate for things to get better, for you to be able to just breathe again. But I also know that that kind of desperation can be one hell of a motivator. Even if it’s not there yet, if you’re not already making a plan of attack, it’ll come,” he didn’t raise his voice once, keeping it low and steady, “and when it does, I just ask you to let us have your back, that’s all. If you ever want revenge, then let us help you.”

“I was thinking that maybe you could start helping out down in the greenhouses a bit,” Maria suggested as she, a little over a week after the library incident transpired, called you into her office to have a talk. 

“Uh, yeah, sure, that sounds fine,” you shrugged, blinking back at her over the wooden desk.  

Squinting her eyes at you a moment, she then went on, “there is actually something else that I wanna talk to you about…”

Already suspecting that there’d been an ulterior motive for the sudden meeting, you exhaled, “okay, shoot.”

“Plum, you’ve been back for, what, two months now? And, well, me and Tommy,” a breath paused her sentence before she continued, “we’re really worried about you,” but you didn’t offer her an answer as you simply averted your gaze with a quiet sigh, “I think it would really help if you talked to someone.” 

“Maria,” you noticed how tense your body had grown and deliberately attempted to make the sore muscles relax and let go, “I can’t talk to you guys about it. I just can’t.”

“Well, maybe you need it to be someone else then. A neutral third party. You know how it can sometimes be easier to tell all of your deep dark secrets to a complete stranger, like a bartender for example, and not to your very best friend?”

“What are you doing here?” you blinked, as the figure knocking at your door turned out to be none other than Joel. 

“Maria sent me.”

“Of course, she did…” you sighed as you swiftly stepped aside for him to enter the house that had only been yours for a little while now. 

“She was worried that you’re not eating,” he held up a small container of food for you to see, then sat it down on the dining table directly to the right of the entryway.

Closing the door after him, you then leaned against the wall, “well, I’m not hungry.”

Glancing up at you, he exhaled, “right,” then moved towards the exit again. 

Anxiously crossing your arms, you spoke up as he passed you, “hey Joel?”

“Yeah?” he stopped in his tracks, trying to catch your skittish eyes. 

“Can I–…” you tried, but then promptly remembered how you had yelled at him the last time you’d interacted with each other, and even though he always seemed to see right through it, always responded to it with that usual unwavering presence, you still couldn’t help but shrivel up and say, “no, forget it, it’s not important…”

“What is it?”

“No, it’s fine,” you stared down at the swirling woodgrain on the floors and waved a hand, “you go…”

Not moving his body an inch, he spoke, “Y/n,” and made you meet his gaze. 

“I just–…” you breathed deeply, “Maria told me to talk to someone and she had this idea that it might be easier if it was with someone that I didn’t really know…”

“Okay,” he nodded gently, as if you were a baby bird he didn’t want to spook away.  

Feeling your heart nearly beat out of your chest, you struggled, “can I talk to you? Can I–… can I try? Try to tell you?”

“Sure,” he answered swiftly, not needing a single second to ponder it, “but are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable with Tommy or someone else?” 

“Tommy still sees me as that little girl I was back when I first met him, and I don’t wanna take that away from him. I don’t wanna ruin that any more than I already have. I don’t care if your view of me changes after you hear, because you didn’t know me before. I don’t mind if you look at me as if I’m broken,” the pained exhale that then flowed out past his lips was so faint that you almost missed it entirely, “also, the thought of telling any of them exactly what happened just makes it seem so much more real, and I don’t think I could handle that…” just the thought caused fearful tears to trickle down your cheeks, “to be honest, I can barely handle it now… and you obviously don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I would never force you to do anything,” you squeezed your eyes shut and rambled anxiously, “and it’s not like I’ve been abundantly nice to you lately, or really since we met, but I swear it had nothing to do with you, I just–”

“Y/n,” he cut you off, breathing as if he was trying to do it for the both of you, “I know, it’s fine. I don’t mind you using me as a punching bag. Rather me than someone who could potentially misinterpret it, although, with the way everyone here walks on eggshells around you, I don’t think they’d take your swings personally. So, if you want me to listen, then I’ll listen.”

“Right…”

You would surely break the skin if you kept on digging your nails into your palms as hard as you’d unconsciously been doing. Slowly moving towards the dining area, you both sat down at the table. For a long moment, you just sat there, quietly losing your mind while he patiently waited. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” you uttered into your palms as you hid behind them, “I don’t know where to start.”

“Just whatever comes to you first, it doesn’t have to be in order, doesn’t have to be everything now, just start somewhere and then go from there. You can just pretend I’m not even here if that helps.”

“Okay…” you choked out a small sob, then timidly began, “they–… they had this room down in the basement… there weren’t any windows, no light of any kind, so you couldn’t really tell if it was day or night or if you were down there for 1 hour or 24. They–, uhm, didn’t wanna grow bored of me, so that’s where they’d put me in order to keep me out of sight, keep me interesting for them. They always had me restrained in one way or another, kept weapons on me to get me to behave or even occasionally drugged me, although they saved that up for the most important people there… it wasn’t even the kind of drugs that made me forget, it just felt like they threw me right back in that dark hole again and I just couldn’t do anything. I could still feel every single thing, but I couldn’t even blink.” 

“I don’t really know when exactly it was, but I think it was during my first winter there that I–… it was inevitable for it to happen at some point… and they didn’t wanna try and perform an abortion, didn’t have the right equipment or the skills for it, so they just let nature run its course. And then when it happened they–…” your voice broke as you then uttered through your sobs, “you know, I didn’t even get to hold her…” silently hating yourself as you then actually admitted out loud, “and a part of me wished so hard for me to have just died during the delivery. For a while I let myself think that I’d finally found a way out. That I would finally be free. That my little girl would help me end it all… and for the longest time, I couldn’t let myself love her, because that’s not how it’s supposed to be. That’s not how you’re supposed to make a new life. It shouldn’t be a consequence of being a slave, of being raped and tortured. She was a consequence. She was a consequence, but I still grew to love her. I didn’t want her, but I still loved her… and they slaughtered her in front of me like a fucking stock animal.”

“Y/n?” you suddenly heard from over your shoulder, effectively ripping you out of your trance-like state as the fresh memories of the nauseating dream you’d woken from still flooded your being, the cold sweat still dripping down your spine. 

Whipping your head around, you glanced up at the man standing in the doorway and breathed, “I’m sorry,” your arms still tightly wrapped around your knees as you sat upon the cold steps of Joel’s front porch. 

Stepping out onto the moonlit deck, Joel exhaled slowly, “how long have you been sitting out here?” and slowly planted himself in one of the weathered chairs. 

“I don’t know,” you uttered wearily, your eyes returning to the cluster of bushes off in the distance, “I just woke up from this nightmare and then I remembered that you–”

“That I told you to come here instead of just being alone with it,” he finished for you.

“Yeah…”

After a moment, his low gravelly voice found your ears once more, “why didn’t you come in?” 

With the cold wind still tickling your face and reminding you to breathe, you answered, “I–, uhm… I don’t know…” 

Your shaky legs were the ones that had prevented you from going any further and forced you to essentially curl up into a ball as soon as you had reached the small splintery steps.

“Okay,” he murmured simply. 

Glancing back at him in the chair, his eyes intently glued on his interlocked fingers, you caught sight of the instrument still propped up beside him.

“Hey, Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you–…” but the rest of your sentence fell short. 

“What?” he asked softly, then pressed further when you kept your mouth shut, “what is it?”

With a sharp inhale, you pushed enough of your nerve-wracking thoughts aside to ask, “would you play me something?” your eyes nowhere near his as the words left your lips. 

“Oh,” his brows lifted in gentle surprise as he glanced down at the guitar, “sure,” then picked it up, “anything specific you had in mind?”

“No, just something, anything.”

“Okay,” he breathed, letting his long fingers ghost over the strings as he pondered the possibilities, “uh, alright,” and with a small nod he began to play, gently strumming out a soft song reminiscent of a lullaby.

The melody at first washed over your body like a warm sip of tea, but after a bit, the feeling changed as you felt him not only pluck at the strings of the instrument, but also the ones on your heart, unexpectedly bringing tears to your already bloodshot eyes. 

“Thank you,” your shaky voice interrupted his midnight performance. 

“It’s just a song.” 

“No, Joel,” you clarified as the sight of your tears made him set the guitar back down, “thank you for everything.”

“Y/n,” he sighed almost painfully, “you really don’t have to thank me.”

“But I want to,” you spoke determinedly, briefly raising a hand up to wipe your wet cheek, “I–,” you let out a heavy exhale, “I am both incredibly grateful and also so, so sorry that you had to hear all of that, that you’re helping me the way that you are…”

Studying your expression a moment longer, he then uttered, “do you not want me to help you or do you just not want anyone to help you?” his earnest observation hit you like a ton of bricks, “plum, you of all people deserve help. I truly feel like I’m not doing enough, I barely do anything at all,” catching your eye, he then added assuringly, “and you did not force or trick me into this, so please stop looking at me as if you did.”

“Well, hello,” the greeting bubbled out of you as you spotted Joel walking past your front porch, “funny seeing you here.”

Stopping in his tracks, he glanced up and spotted you leaning against the railing with a breezy smile upon your face, “hi.”

Squinting your eyes at him for a second, you spoke, “I know why I’m not at the party, but why aren’t you?” the faint bustle of the gathering still softly echoed from a distance. 

“I actually just came from there,” he tugged his hands into his pockets, his warm breath clear in the night air, “just on my way back.”

“Already? Damn, you must be a lot older than Tommy told me,” you teased, suddenly feeling the veranda sway slightly beneath your feet, making your fingers tighten their grip on the railing, “bailing on a party after only an hour.”

Furrowing his brows in your direction, he then asked, “Y/n, are you drunk?” 

“No,” but your light-hearted lie wasn’t convincing at all so you followed it up with, “okay, yeah, I might be a little buzzed.” 

“Right,” he chuckled and twisted to return to his journey home, “just don’t stay out here in the cold too long.”

“Why?” you scoffed through your giggle, halting his footsteps yet again.

“Just because the alcohol feels like it’s warming you up, doesn’t mean you won’t get hypothermia. Especially dressed like that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” waving a hand in his direction, you fibbed, “I’ll go back inside in a bit.” 

“Just put on a jacket at least.”

“Nice trick, mister,” you chuckled, “but I’m not going back inside after my jacket. I know you,” one of your fingers pointed accusingly at him as he suddenly abandoned his original destination and walked up your steps, “you’ll just barricade the door or something as soon as I’m inside,” though when you saw him shrug his own thick coat off and drape it over your frame, your jovial smile fell from you joking lips, “oh, I wasn’t trying to–”

“Just shut up and take it,” he quietly cut off your protest, then rested his forearms against the railing and stared out onto the dim town beyond. 

Blinking over at him for a second, you eventually gave in and accepting the warm layer, “…thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Slotting in beside him, your eyes soon drifted up to look at the night sky, absentmindedly uttering, “you know, my grandma knew the names of all the different constatations in the sky, told me all about them when I came over as a kid, but somehow, I still only remember the name of big dipper. I mean, I know them, I know every single one of them, just not the names anymore. Funny how things just slip away like that. No matter how hard you fight to remember, it all just ends up being like a dream,” you then dropped your vision to find Joel already looking at you. 

Maybe it was the alcohol at work or maybe it was the months of confusing feelings finally colliding, but the next thing you knew you had leaned in and pressed your lips against his. With the whole world spinning, you felt one of his hands instinctually find purchases on your waist and the other on your cool cheek. But just as quickly as it had happened, that’s how abruptly it ended when Joel suddenly took a tense step back, his fingers still lingering a second longer as you blinked up at him in dazed amazement. 

“Plum, I–…” he didn’t move an inch as you briefly saw a look of genuine fear wash over his severe features, “you should probably head off to bed.”

“What?” you sounded down right out of breath. 

Keeping his eyes averted, he dodged, “drink some water, maybe eat a bit so that you don’t feel as bad tomorrow,” and slowly backed away, recoiling as if he had just broken a priceless vase.  

Too stunned to run after him and still enveloped in his jacket, you shouted, “Joel!” watching from the porch as he disappeared.

“About the other night…” you spoke when finally, after days of trying, you caught Joel before he could slip away again. 

Not letting you finish your thought, he breathed, “you were drunk,” and kept his eyes glued to the floorboard below.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” you uttered softly, staring at his tense form. 

“I’m sorry,” his head shook lightly. The mental whip he lashed across his own back was so clear that you could nearly make it out yourself. 

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that,” his eyes squeezed shut as his face crinkled up in regret, “I shouldn’t have kissed you at all.”

“You kissed me?” your eyebrows shot up, “Joel, I was the one kissing you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, keeping his eyes closed as his head gently swayed from side to side. 

“Joel,” your soft voice tried to penetrate his shield as you took a step closer to him, “Joel… please, look at me…”

Face twitching like a scared little boy, his eyes finally fluttered open, brows twisting up in heartbreak as he noticed the earnest way you were gazing up at him. 

It didn’t take more than a heavy shared breath for you both to wordlessly understand.

“I’m too old for you,” he murmured. 

“No, you’re not,” you stated gently, taking another step towards him. 

“Y/n, you don’t really like me like that,” he tried, “not really,” though his feet still didn’t move to get away. 

“Just shut up. Stop making up dumb excuses. Just be honest with me, only push me away if you really don’t want this.”

“What I want is not important…”

“That’s not true… Joel, you are probably the only man in the world that doesn’t scare me. And I didn’t really get why that was earlier, because it didn’t make sense at all, but I do now. I get it now. I didn’t want it to happen, and I don’t know when it did, but Joel, I like you,” you heard your voice break as tears began to blur your vision, “and maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m just completely blind to all of that now, but it just seemed like you liked me back…”

“Y/n…”

“But if don’t, then I’d really appreciate it if you’d just come right out and say it so that I can just leave you alone and let you forget that any of this ever happened.”

“Plum…”

“Please just tell me…” you begged, feeling his trembling breath hit your skin, “just say that you don’t like me…”

“I can’t…” he breathed, his brown eyes flickering over your face, “you deserve so much better.” 

“I know,” tears finally breached and rolled down your cheeks, “so let me have something better. Show me what I deserve.”

“Wow,” Joel giggled as you unexpectedly used all of your strength to yank him inside, “hi.”

Your lips didn’t waste any more time, immediately latching onto his and needily kissing him as you kicked the door shut behind you, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Plum, it’s only been a few days,” he chuckled against your peck. 

“Yeah, well I still missed you,” then added as your fingers tangled in the buttons of his dark green flannel, “a lot.”

“Oh, yeah?” he hummed as you backed him up towards the couch.

“Yeah,” you beamed in between kisses, “I really wish I could go on patrol with you, be out there just the two of us, but Maria still doesn’t think I’m ready,” you then grumbled pettily, “which is complete fucking bull shit.” 

“You will get there, just be patient,” the back of his legs hit the sofa and your grasp on his broad shoulders guided him the rest of the way down.

“And what if I don’t wanna be patient, huh?” you smirked, straddling his lap and capturing his lips in another ravenous kiss. 

After nearly ripping the last of his buttons clean off, you parted just long enough for you to lift your warm sweater over your head. Your fingers swiftly seized the hem of your t-shirt, the last remaining layer that remained before your bare boobs sprung free inches away from his face. 

Snatching your hands before you got the chance to shred any more clothing, Joel caught your dilated pupils and checked, “you sure?”

“Please Joel, I want this,” you begged, practically on the brink of tears. Still noting the hesitation in his eye, you wiggled a hand free, placed it on his bearded jaw and told him, “I am not gonna break. You won’t break me,” feeling his hold still not yield, you breathed, “please, I want this so bad, I want you, I wanna feel you, I wanna feel all of you.”

Searching your eyes, his form then slowly relaxed beneath you and the elated giggle that bubbled out of your throat as you noticed caused a smile to bloom on his stern features as well. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” you uttered adoringly.

Tightening his grasp on the edge of your shirt, Joel slowly lifted it up, his large palms swiftly smoothing down your wild hair as the cotton neckline messed it up. 

“I missed you too,” his breathy tone made it difficult for you to stay back and let him get a good look at you, as the urge to have his lips again seemed absolutely excruciating. Feeling his fingers drift down from your head to where his eyes were glued to, your hips instinctually rolled down against his thighs as he uttered, “you are so beautiful,” sounding nearly hypnotised as the soft light glowing from the window behind you cast a halo of light around your perched form. 

Curling an arm around your waist, his hand stretched down and breached the waistband of your jeans, promptly using the hold to yank you even closer towards him, a move that made you lose your breath. 

You couldn’t hold back the desperate whine that flowed out as you felt his prevalent tent poke against your throbbing core. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you shuttered as he grabbed the nape of your neck to guide you back for another taste. 

Tongues danced against each other, moans were exchanged like the breath you shared and both of your wandering hands weren’t shy to explore the other’s body as you feverishly rocked down against him. 

Although as one of his hands let go of the toe-curling hold it had on the left of your pebbly nipples to slide up towards your face, it never fully arrived at the assumed destination as his fingers unexpectedly enclosed around your throat. His hold was gentle, simply resting there in an effort to keep you close, but unfortunately, that wasn’t how your body understood it. 

Freezing up at once, your breath got caught in your throat as tears instantly welled up in your eyes. Your whole body started shaking as your heart-breaking voice burst through your partner’s haze.

“Joel.”

Snapping out of the ecstasy at once, he reeled back and took in how quickly your whole world had flipped upside down. 

Hearing him suck in a breath that never truly flowed out again, he swiftly grabbed his shredded flannel, balled up beside him, and draped it over your trembling shoulders, though his fingers just hovering as he did so, being too scared to truly touch you again. 

Your hands were still frozen, mid-air, right in front of your body as you wept, “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry. I’m–, fuck, I’m so sorry, plum.”

As excruciating memories flared up throughout your traumatized form and lit it ablaze, you still kept on blubbering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I want this, I really, really want this,” your jaw clenched in fury as you felt your body betray you, “you gotta believe me, I wanna–, I–…” your plea got snuffed out as your sobs took over and you jaggedly sunk down and buried your face in his chest, your fingers eventually gaining enough strength to clutch against his warm frame for an ounce of support. 

“I know you do, I know…”

An immediate cry burst free as you jolted awake. 

Panting, your body blurred the line between reality and dream as you slowly sat up in bed. Feeling the mattress dip beside you, a groggy hand brushed against your thigh, which you instinctually shifted away from, clutching both your knees to your chest as tears dripped from your chin down onto the duvet below. Hearing a soft groan as the man beside you awoke, it didn’t take long before your sobs pierced his peaceful rest. 

“Y/n?” you felt Joel sit up beside you.

“I–,” you gasped for air, “I can’t breathe.” 

“Okay, alright,” you shakily turned your head to look at him, “just, uhm, look at me, focus on me,” he haphazardly thought of a way to help, “you’re right here, you’re in Jackson, you’re safe,” he abstained the urge to reach out and touch you, almost as if it could burn him, or maybe more correctly, that he could burn you.

Trembling, your hand found his, vibrating against it for but a moment before he enveloped his long fingers around it, his shoulders relaxing slightly at the gesture. Your chaotic eyes flickered down towards his chest for guidance, as your laboured breathing still survived on short little puffs that were beginning to make you feel as if you’d faint. 

Noticing, Joel raised your clasped hands up and pressed them against his chest, letting your palm feel how it rose and fell beneath his worn t-shirt. Gradually, as the soft thumping of his heart tickled your hand and accompanied the intakes of air, you regained more control and your own lungs began to return to a more normal pace. Eventually, your desperate sobs turned into just a gentle trickle of tears till they too began to run out.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” you uttered, absolutely exhausted from that start to your day. 

“It’s fine,” his thumb brushed over the back of your hand, then after a moment asked you softly, “are you okay?”

“I–, u-uh,” a shiver ran down your spine, “I don’t know…”

“Okay,” Joel nodded simply, letting your enveloped hands drift down from the guiding touch against his chest. 

Glancing wearily out the nearby window, you uttered absentmindedly, “it’s not light out yet…”

“No, it is not,” he agreed softly.

Having no clue how many hours were left of the eerie night, you spoke, “you should go back to sleep, you can probably still get enough rest to somewhat resemble a human tomorrow.”

“Do you wanna go back to sleep?”

“No,” your answer came out instantly, the shadowy moonlight keeping the memories of the nightmare alive and preventing you from shaking it completely, “I don’t–, I–… no.”

“Okay,” his voice again was as soft as the duvet that enveloped you, “what do you need right now? What could help?” 

“I don’t know…” your lip quivered as tears welled up in your eyes once more, “I just want it to be day again. You know, things are always a bit better when the sun is out… maybe that’s silly, but it just feels like it. Things kinda loosen their grip on you easier when you’re not drowning in darkness…”

“So, then we’ll wait,” he shifted his fingers to improve his grip on your hand.

“Oh, you don’t have to wait with me, it’s okay, I’m okay now that I’m awake–” you attempted, but with little success as he interrupted your fib. 

“We will wait,” his eyes found yours in the darkness.

“…okay,” you exhaled, your shoulders relaxing a bit. 

And there you remained for who knows how long, watching together from the warm bed as the dark skies out the nearby window gradually lightened, soon presenting clouds in shades of rose and lavender and the sun eventually cresting from beyond the adjacent mountains.

“Like that?” you asked as you tried to press upon the instrument’s strings in the same way that Joel had just shown you. 

“Close,” sitting behind you, he watched your attempt over your shoulder, “like this,” with his arms already wrapped around your form, he readjusted your fingers for the pointer to stretch to an even higher spot on the neck of the guitar, pressing his own callused fingertip over yours to help you hold the stiff string down. 

“Joel,” you whined softly as your hand could barely spread out that far, nor press down hard enough to make the correct sound when moulded in that manner, “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” you felt the scratch of his bearded cheek against yours as you let the grip go. 

“My hands aren’t big enough to do complicated chords like that.”

“Well, it’s actually a fairly basic one–”

“Oh, shut up,” you chuckled, turning your head to gaze into his warm eyes, your vision briefly flickering down to his smiling lips as you purred, “you would say that with fingers like yours…” 

Capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, you let go of the guitar completely, leaving it in Joel’s hands alone as you craned your body, and your fingers found his face. 

Still feeling his gentle pecks linger upon your smile, you uttered, “I don’t think I’m gonna be the next–, uh… you know what, I don’t really remember the names of any famous guitarists right now, but you get the picture.”

“You just need to practice, that’s all.” 

Pursing your lips in an effort to hide your smile, “or maybe I should just go back to just watching you play.”

“You’re giving up already?” he asked playfully. 

“What? It was a sweet gesture to teach me, really, but I unfortunately just don’t think I have the right anatomy for it,” you wiggled one of your comparatively small hands in front of his face before he leaned forward, attacking the palm with his tender lips. 

“But do you really have to go?” you whined into his chest, your arms only tightening around his form, “I’m sure Eugene would fill in for you or–, uhm, Jesse! He’s all young and eager to be out there.”

“You’re killing me, you know that, right?” he chuckled, tilting your chin up to catch your eye. 

You were officially on the verge of marching over to Maria, once more, to ask if you could go out again. You both craved the morbid normality of going on patrols, loathing so deeply the way everyone in the town treated you as if you were made of fragile porcelain, the infected out there would never change no matter how much you did, and that fact was weirdly comforting to you. But it was also, deep down, because you hadn’t left Joel’s side for weeks now and the thought of being alone again, of going back to that house that you hadn’t even slept in for who knows how long, the thought of him maybe not returning, those too clouded your mind and caused your arms around his body to cling on even tighter.

“Stay here with me where it’s warm and there aren’t any infected and where you can enjoy much, much better company than Tommy. I’m sorry, I love the guy, but it’s true,” you jested, “I am way more fun than him.” 

“Yeah, you wanna tell him all of that when he comes a-knocking in a bit looking for me? Let him find out that you’re the reason I’m not doing my job?”

Slowly unravelling your arms, you took a step back and inspected his cautious expression. 

“Joel, are you–… are you scared of your brother finding out about us?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that,” he apprehensively tried, “I just–”

“What?” you severed the remnants of your clinging hug, “are you ashamed of me or something?” 

“No! Oh my god, no!” he rushed out immediately, his coffee eyes growing wide, “Y/n, I am not ashamed of you in any way, please believe that,” his words dripped with desperation. 

“Alright,” you breathed, though your brows didn’t unfurrow in the slightest, “but then why do you wanna keep us a secret?”

“I don’t wanna keep us a secret, I just–…” he averted his gaze and uttered, “they trusted me to help you, you trusted me enough to let me in and then I–…”

“Then I kissed you. I was the one taking that step. Do you really think your brother would believe that you took advantage of me?”

“Plum, I know what you mean to him.”

“Even so, you really think he’d believe that? That he would think you would ever do something like that to a person?” 

Exhaling slowly, “I don’t know… He’s known me all his life. Seen every side of me, good and bad. I don’t know if he’d believe that, but I know I would if I was in his shoes.”

Staring down at your feet, you gnawed your bottom lip and eventually spoke, “when will you get back?”

“Maybe tomorrow or the day after that.”

Slowly lifting your eyes up to meet his, you nodded simply “okay,” though didn’t move to offer him another warm farewell.

Picking up his backpack that waited by the front door, his fingers stopped right before turning the handle and glanced back at you, “you know,” his fingers that weren’t clutching the door fidgeted apprehensively at his side, “you can stay here while I’m gone,” your shoulders relaxed as he essentially read your mind, “if you want. If that could somehow make things easier–”

But he didn’t get to finish his kind offer as you marched over towards him and snatched his head down for a kiss. 

“Be safe,” you rested your forehead against his for a moment as you felt his warm palm slide over your waist, accompanying the relieved sigh that flowed out of him. 

“You too,” he breathed in your scent a second longer before he slipped out of your grasp and exited the home, not daring, even once, to look back at your form through the small window adorning the door.

“Hey plum?” you heard the front door creak open, “you in here?”

Groggily, you answered, “Joel?” laying on the couch, you turned your head to spot the figure soon appearing in the doorway.

Slowing down to a stop as he crossed the threshold into the living room, he smiled at the seemingly just lazy nap he had interrupted, “heya sleepyhead.”

“How did you know I was still here?” you weakly raised yourself up onto your elbows, the room still spinning just as much as it had this morning.

“I didn’t,” he came to sit by your blanket-covered feet, “but I thought it was a safe bet since you weren’t at home. I actually found something out there that–, hey,” he finally noticed how pale your face was, “are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just a little sick,” you shrugged.

With your calm demeanour not rubbing off on him, he asked, “you wanna go down to the clinic?” lifting his palm up to gently touch your warm forehead. 

“Joel,” you grabbed his hand softly, “I’m fine, it’s just a fever. Now, what did you find?”

Eyes still brimming with worry, he kept his one hand in yours while the other unzipped the backpack leaning up against his feet, “we came across this bookstore when we were moving through an area yesterday, and I just so happen to find this,” he produced a thick copy of a book with a very familiar faded blue font.

“No way,” you snatched it up and inspected it to make sure it actually was the sequel you thought it was, “no fucking way!”

“I remembered how pissed you were at the first one’s cliff-hanger, so I just thought–”

“Joel,” blinked up at him in amazement.

“You like it?”

“Are you kidding me?” you giggled, throwing your arms around him, “I love it, I love–, I love it, thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, it would’ve been a travesty if you never found out if they managed to get the–, uhm, sword?”

“Axe, it’s a magical axe.”

“Right,” he chuckled as you leaned back against the armrest and cracked the novel open, “hey,” your eyes flicked up to meet his again, “you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “but you know what would make me feel even better?”

“What?” he chuckled at the sly grin that bloomed upon your lips.

“If you read me the first few chapters.”

Plucking your feet up for them to rest upon his thighs as he scooted closer, “alright. One chapter and then you try and get some more rest, okay?” he reached out for you to hand him the book.

You had no idea when the lazy morning kisses had turned into something more, something that both felt like falling asleep, but also like you were overflowing with a sudden energy as fire spread throughout your body. 

Completely lost in the moment, sprawled out on top of Joel’s form, completely pressed against him as your tongue danced softly against his own, it was first when you picked up on the muffled sighs coming from your partner that you noticed the way your hips needily rocked against his own. When they had decided to seek out what they craved, you didn’t know, but you weren’t gonna stop them now, you couldn’t, it simply felt too incredible. 

“Plum,” Joel groaned, though you just hummed in return as your lips wandered over his stubbly jaw, “fuck, just–,” with an arm still around your form, resting on top of his, he gently rotated your bodies, causing you to plop down on the mattress next to him, “hi, good morning,” he painstakingly reeled his head back from yours.

Curling your leg back up over his hip, you purred back, “it really is a good morning, isn’t it?” the tent in his boxers nudging against your throbbing core as you nuzzled back into him, your eyelids fluttering at the sensation. 

“Maybe it’s about time we–, uh-uhm, get up?” he sucked in a deep breath, obviously attempting to simmer down the result of your escalated tender beginning to the day. 

“Nah, I’d much rather stay here with you a little longer,” you breathed, “wouldn’t you?” batting your eyelashes up at him.

“I–, fuck, of course, but­–”

“But what?” your fingers slid across his cheek, weaving them through his short beard.

“Don’t you think we should stop before something happens?”

“We could,” you tried your best to keep the traumatic door he was scratching at closed, “but I’m just letting you know that if you get up now, I’ll just take matters into my own hands… do you really wanna get up and leave when you know I’ll be right here thinking about you?” 

“I just don’t want you to–”

“Me neither,” you shook your head quickly as you cut his worry short, “please, Joel,” your words dripped with desperation as you grabbed his wrist and pulled it down between your bodies, “I’m so fucking wet right now,” you cupped his palm against the soaked cotton between your thighs, “it would be so mean to just leave me like this.”

Listening as his breathing grew weightier, his eyes fluttered a moment as he thought it over, hand not moving an inch, “you sure?”

“I promise I will tell you if it changes,” you swore, feeling like a wildfire was tearing through your body, then let out a whimper as you felt his hand slowly withdraw, “please.”

Staring directly into your soul, he nodded softly, “okay.”

“Okay?” you asked, still dumbfoundedly clawing at his retracting hand. 

“Okay, go ahead,” he clarified, caressing your confused fingers a moment before tangling his own with them, “I’m not gonna stop you from making yourself feel good.” 

Letting out a jagged exhale as a soft smile bloomed on your lips, you tilted your chin up and crashed your lips into his, your relieved giggle vibrating into the kiss. 

Dipping your fingers below your waistband, even just the lightest touch against your buzzing clit had you letting out a deliciously desperate sound that made you break from his adoring lips. Feeling them linger on your face a moment longer, softly pecking your flushed cheek and the tip of your nose, he then pulled back a bit, his free hand sliding up to the side of your features as he gazed lovingly at your blissful expression.

Feeling the hand clutching yours not let go as you had assumed it would, on the contrary, you felt it tighten its grip and squeeze yours encouragingly as the sloppy sounds emanating from between your legs filled the bedroom, “are you gonna join me?”

“No,” his genuine smile smooshed lightly against the pillow beneath his face as his thumb caressed your cheekbone softly, “I’m good right here.”

“But–”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine, this is all I want, all I need, just seeing you touch yourself like this right in front of me, watching you give yourself exactly the kind of pleasure you want, hearing those beautiful sounds you make, fuck…” he said, giving you all of the control, “yeah, I’m good.”

Staring back into his kind eyes in amazement, you breathed out just the remnants of a smile and uttered, “okay.”

“Just do what feels good, plum,” he encouraged, sharing your breath as you kept up the tight circles you drew over your puffy little pearl, “what you like,” he broke the intense eye contact and rested his forehead against your own, “what you need.” 

His deep voice made your eyes flutter. The heated morning make-out session had worked you up so much that you barely needed anything more in order to reach that sought-after high. If he hadn’t stopped you before, if it had just lasted a minute longer you would have probably cum right there, rubbing yourself against his strong thigh. So, the addition of his words was almost too much to bear.

Lifting your entangled hands up towards his lips, he kissed your knuckles gently, tilting his head back to admire your electric expression, how your brows knitted together and your mouth hung agape. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he uttered as your moans gradually grew louder and you found yourself tumbling over the edge before you even realised you’d reached it. 

After your legs had relaxed from their light flailing and your breath began to come in more gently, completely dazed, you stared up at Joel as he soon asked you carefully, “are you okay?”

“Holy shit…” you breathed as you sluggishly slipped your wet fingers back out of your underwear.

With his large hand still on the side of your face, he searched your fuzzy eyes, “plum? Are you–”

“Y-yeah, fuck,” you tightened your hand in his and lulled forward, resting your forehead against his once again, “I’m–, yeah… I’m good…”

“Hey, are you okay?” Joel asked as he felt your body suddenly stiffen up in his lap. 

“I­–…” you exhaled slowly, focusing your jittery vision on his warm eyes, “this just got very real all of a sudden…”

“Yeah…” his wide palm moved gently over your bare back, his respectful gaze staying on your face and not drifting down to soak up the distracting vision of your collective nude forms moulded against each other, “do you wanna stop?”

“No,” you shook your head lightly. 

“Do you wanna do something else? Because you know I’m fine, we don’t have to do this.”

“No, I really, really want to, I just–…” your eyes drifted down to stare at his shoulder while you spoke sincerely, “I wanna stay here with you and not have my mind wander off and get confused…”

“I want you to stay here too, more than anything,” his fingers tangled themselves in your hair, bringing your eyes back up to meet his, “what can I do? What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know…” you offered him a shy shrug, “I guess you could try and remind me? Help keep me focused on this, on you…”

“Okay,” he agreed softly, his thumb swiping over your flushed cheek, “well, you’re right here with me, there is no one else, just you and me, plum.” 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, your shoulders relaxing under his comforting touch. 

“And you know that I’ve got you, right? No matter what, no matter how, I’ve got you.”

Feeling a soft smile warm up your face, you echoed, “you’ve got me,” and absentmindedly rolled your hips once more against his own, rubbing your leaking cunt all over the underside of his length as it stood proud. 

Leaning in to steal a chased kiss, you sneaked your hand down between your forms and ghosted your fingers over his girth. Joel sucked in a breath as you slowly gained more confidence, dancing your fingertips over his slick stained dick. 

With a hand rooted on his chest as an anchor, you needily began to buck your hips against him, your weeping folds enveloping his cock as you rocked against him.  

“Fuck,” Joel hissed in pleasure, his nose bumping lightly against your own as he commented on the slick sounds accompanying every desperate rock, “you’re so wet.”

Brows knitted together, you let your head drop down and hide in the crook of his neck. Your whimpers vibrated against his skin and as you felt the fire inside of you begin to grow out of control, so did the confession that irrepressibly flowed from your blissful lips. 

“I love you.” 

You instantly froze up, feeling your swollen clit throb against his hard cock. 

“Oh my god…” he breathed, sounding utterly amazed. 

“I–…” you continued to hide, “oh god, I’m sorry… I–, I’m sorry…”

“No, hey, hey,” his hands found your neck and gently pulled you back, “why are you sorry, huh?” he searched your averted gaze. 

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You didn’t mean it?”

“No, I just didn’t mean to blurt it out like that!” completely mortified, you brought your hands up to shield your face.

“…so you–”

“I’m sorry, I just–”

“Plum,” you felt his thumbs swipe over the backs of your hands, begging them to reveal your face to him, “please stop apologizing for telling me the best thing you could ever say,” holding your breath, you slowly let your fingers fall down. Sucking in a gasp of air, he gazed into your nervous eyes and uttered earnestly, “I love you too.”

Feeling lightheaded, you breathed, “what?”

“I love you,” he repeated with a small chuckle as the words sank in. 

“You–… you do?”

“Yeah, of course I do, I mean, how could I not–,” but he didn’t get to gush any further as you feverishly grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, an amazed giggle soon interrupting from your adoring lips. 

“I love you,” you smiled, planting a dozen pecks all over his face. His arms wrapped around your form and enveloped you in warmth as he contentedly rocked the both of you lightly in his embrace. 

“I love you,” he beamed as you gently raised your hips up and grabbed his twitching length, aligning it with your entrance, “I lo–… love–… holy shit,” he cursed as you slowly sank down on his fat girth.

The sensation of him stretching you out had a confusing cocktail of emotions flooding your system. It both felt so beyond amazing because it was him, it was Joel, but it also had your body trembling with the assault of tainted memories.

Your wide eyes eventually locked on his as you stilled in his lap, letting the warmth of his kind eyes ground you as you breathed, sounding like you were sucking in your very first breath, “Joel,” your chest rose and fell rapidly as your vision washed over his face. 

With one arm staying safely around your torso, the other hand drifted up to the side of your head, “yeah, it’s me, it’s just me,” lovingly taming your wild hair as you steadied your fevered breath. 

Feeling your body relax under his touch, your fluttering eyes darkened as you instinctively rolled your hips, “Joel,” watching his face contort beautifully as you grinded in his lap, letting his cock nuzzle in that much deeper. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” the arm that was tangled around you snaked down so that the hand could supportively grip your backside, “keep saying my name, just like that,” you then desperately picked up the pace, moaning intoxicatedly at the sound of his deep voice, “it’s just me, I’ve got you.”

Half of the time when his name left your lips, the mantra sounded utterly incoherent as your moans drowned it out, leaving the whispered prayer completely unrecognizable. 

Asking for permission with his gaze, he kept his eyes locked on yours as he lowered his head down enough to bury it in the swell of your tit, feeling his hot tongue swipe across your skin as his cock stretched you out so intoxicatingly. 

With one hand firmly aiding your fevered pace, the other one stayed right where your bodies met, swirling your swollen clit with a firmness that made it difficult for you to keep your hazy eyes open. 

“Joel,” you let him take over as you neared the end, surprising you with how effortlessly he bounced you in his lap, sloppy wet sounds filling the living room as your skin slapped against each other with every needy thrust, your juices undoubtedly dripping down onto the couch at this point. Whimpering as you clambered down around him, “Joel,” you nearly choked his dick to death as you came on his cock.

Your thighs trembled violently as he let out a string of beautifully lewd moans, holding you there and fucking your spasming pussy just a few more times before he pulled you back just enough for him to yank out his angry cock, pumping it quickly in his tight fist, his forearm flexing under the strain as hot ropes of cum spilt out and painted your heaving belly. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, breathing heavy as he pulled you in to kiss your cheek. Draping both of his arms around you and holding you close, you felt his heartbeat thump against your chest as you slowly regained composure of your own ragged breathing, “you okay, Y/n?” 

“I–… I think so…” you blinked back at him, completely starry-eyed, “oh my god, I love you…”

“I love you,” he couldn’t help the relieved, breathy chuckle that bubbled out of him, “fuck, I’m so proud of you. You–, you’re–…” his eyes flicked across your face, his brain visibly melting at the way you looked back at him right now, “christ, I love you…”

In the bustle of your soft giggling, Tommy, smile still plastered on his lips, asked you unexpectedly, “so, how long have you been seeing him?”

Nearly choking on your tea, you somehow managed to not spit out any of the hot liquid as you glared at him in shock, “I’m sorry, what?”

Taking a casual sip of his own mug, he said, “my brother,” gloating as he lowered it again, smugly staring down into the cup, “how long have you been keeping it a secret?”

“I–…” you blinked, stunned a moment by how he could have found out, “I haven’t been keeping it a secret, I just haven’t been advertising it…”

Raising his brown eyes up to look at you, he asked you sincerely, “you happy?”

“Yeah,” a soft smile bloomed on your lips as it was now your turn to stare down at the amber beverage sloshing around in your cup, “I think I am.”

“Good,” he nodded gently, “and just for the record, he might be my big brother, but if he ever tries anything, I will not hesitate.”

“What, are you gonna beat him up for me?” you chuckled. 

“Maybe,” he drew out, your giggle causing him to smile, “or maybe I’ll rat him out to Maria and she’ll make sure he gets kicked out.” 

“You’d kick your own brother out of Jackson?” your brows shot up in disbelief. 

“If he ever hurts you, yeah,” he admitted, “I love him, but you’re my family too, and Jackson was your home way before it was his. You deserve dibs.”

“Hey, Eugene,” you greeted the scraggly man seemingly waiting outside of Maria’s office, “have you seen Joel? Did he come in with you?”

Eyes widening a moment at your sudden appearance, he straightened up and muttered, “I–, uh, I think he’s probably checking up on Ellie, so you should over go there.”

“Uhm, no, I actually just checked there, just in case. She said she saw him ride in this morning, but hadn’t heard from him since,” fear suddenly flooding your senses as you asked tensely, “is he okay? Did something happen? Is that why the shift took so long this time? Is he in the infirmary?” 

“No, no,” he raised his inked hand up in reassurance, “plum, he’s fine, he’s probably just busy or something.”

Looking him up and down, your head tilted slightly as you noticed just how tense he was and how his waiting in front of the door almost looked like he was guarding it…

“Why are you acting so weird?”

“Me?” he forced a chuckle, “I’m not acting weird. Just go home. If I spot him, then I’ll send him your way, promise.” 

“What’s going on in there?” you nodded to the heavy door, firmly blocked by his frame. 

“Nothing’s going on,” he said a bit too quickly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then why are you guarding the door?”

“I’m not guarding the door.”

“Oh, yeah?” you squinted your eyes, huffing out a heated breath, “then let me in. Let me go talk to Maria.”

“Maria’s not in there right now.”

“Really? Then who is?” you asked, receiving nothing but silence, “let me in, Eugene.”

“Can’t do that, plum. Just do me a favour, go home, relax–”

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax,” you roared, ripping your arm away as he tried to reach out for you.

Searching his tense eyes, your racing mind came to a conclusion quicker than the last grain of sand rushing through an hourglass, irreversible as your fist then suddenly came down upon his temple, knocking him out cold. 

As you creaked the door open, you heard Joel’s low timbre before you saw him, “I’m gonna ask you nicely one last time, where is your group? We know that you moved, so where to?” 

Rounding the corner, your entire body froze in shock as you saw him kneeling in front of a bloodied man strapped to a chair, a man you never thought you’d see again. 

“Fuck you, man,” the beaten guy spat, “I ain’t saying shit.” 

A high-pitched, guttural wail erupted throughout the room as Joel twisted the knife logged in the man’s thigh, his body shaking against the tight binds at the excruciating pain. 

“Plum,” Tommy, standing in the corner, gasped, though your eyes didn’t falter their intense stare, didn’t even blink, watching the familiar man cry out as the knife was yanked out. 

Whirling around in horror, Joel straightened up as soon as he saw you, attempting to block the person from your view, “what are you–”

But your hand promptly shot out, successfully warning them to stop talking. With your cold glare still locked on the dazed man, his bruised eyes slowly blinking open to look back at you, a disgusting grin immediately blooming on his bloodied face.  

“As I live and breathe,” he snarled, the thick blood in his throat gurgling his sentence, “the bitch is back…” he scanned you lewdly, swollen eyes panning over your petrified form, “gotta give it to you, slipping out from under our noses in the bustles of the move, that was pretty smart, though we all just assumed you’d been ripped to shreds by a hoard of infected, but I see now that you still can’t be killed. Resilient little cunt, this one is,” he clicked his tongue, “what, have you come back for more? Missed me that much?”

Slowly, your vision never wavering, you turned your palm up before your partner, finally peeling your eyes off the man for but a moment to shoot an icy glance at Joel, wordlessly asking him to give you the knife in his hand, still dripping with crimson.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea–” the rest of Tommy’s timid words got crushed as you swiftly glared at him as if he was next.

Reluctantly, you eventually felt the weight of the weapon being placed in your open palm. With vile tickling the back of your throat, you slowly stepped closer to the restrained man, your jaw quivering as he continued to speak out of turn. 

“Real shame that you never made it, never got to see Noah’s big plan in person,” it was such a short name, yet such a big wave that crashed into you, “he misses you, by the way,” the man glanced up at you through his stringy blonde hair, clinging to his forehead, the very tips stained red by the blood oozing from his various nasty wounds, “we all miss you…”

Your whole being felt completely numb, almost as if you were dreaming. Never letting your horrified glare falter, you lowered yourself down in front of him, getting on his level and crouching at his bound feet. 

With the knife heavy in your hand, your fingers tightened around the handle as he dared to utter smugly, “yeah, that’s it,” he tried to spread his thighs apart, “you’ve missed your daddy, I can see it…”

Wordlessly, your face still akin to a statue, you grabbed onto two of his grimy fingers and swiftly bent them back forcefully enough for there to sound a nasty crack. The sharp cry he let out didn’t affect you in the slightest as you determinedly straightened the broken fingers back out. Notching the knife right beneath the knuckles, you looked him right in the eye and watched his face contort in agony as the sharp blade sliced clean through his digits, letting them roll onto the floor as he screamed.

Before he could catch his breath, you reached up and sliced one of his cauliflowered ears off, listlessly letting it tumble off and join the severed digits on the floor.

Unexpectedly, amidst all the grunts and groans, the vile man erupted in laughter, throwing his head back as the crimson spewed from his gashes, “that all you got? Come on,” he had the nerve to wink at you, “give me a little sugar, dolly.”

He didn’t deserve to just die. He didn’t deserve that mercy. He deserved to understand. To be broken by the severity of his actions. To live out the rest of his days in agony knowing that no matter what he did, he would never be able to pay for what he had done, simply live in the consequential void of despair.

The bridge of your nose twitched as the tip of the blade sank into his groin, stabbing him repeatedly till your fervent strikes grew sloppy, angling up to his abdomen, and you were out of breath, panting as you watched the life leave his eyes. 

Still completely silent, you stayed there, staring at his lifeless expression, your shoulders heaving with every painful breath. 

Sluggishly, you pulled the weapon out of where it was still lodged in the man’s lower stomach, shakily clutching it in your stained hand as you stood back up. Your knees nearly buckled from under you as you turned for the others to see your pale face, lumbering slowly towards the exit as if they weren’t even there at all. 

As Joel carefully stepped closer to your slow-moving form, he didn’t get to try anything as you swiftly dropped the blood-soaked knife back into his grasp and continued your painful trek out the door, not glancing up at his horrified face for even a moment. 

Breaking the deafening silence, Tommy warily said, “he never told us where they–”

Whirling around, the sharp slap that your numb palm planted across his cheek cut his sentence short, fury still alive in your cold eyes as you stared at your friend, struggling to comprehend that he had actually dared to pull something like this without your knowledge. That both of them had.

As you turned your back on them again, he cautiously continued to speak, “you could have just let us have two seconds with him, we’d still have let you finish him off, if that’s what you wanted to.”

Your voice was hoarse as you finally spoke again, “he would have never told you where they are,” facing the door, you revealed to them, “and besides that, you didn’t need him. I already know where they are.”

“You know?” Tommy gasped, his wide eyes glued on you in surprise, “this whole time you’ve known and haven’t told us?”

“It’s not like you ever asked me,” you uttered through your gritted teeth. Casting your piercing glare upon Joel, you said, “so I’m guessing this is why your patrol shifts suddenly got unusually long, am I right?” 

Barely breathing at all, he answered hesitantly, “…yes.”

“And does Maria even know?”

“Not till a few hours ago,” Tommy huffed out a pained sigh. 

“What the fuck were you thinking? How could you even consider that any of this was something that I’d want? Why on earth did you take it upon yourselves to go out and get revenge?” staring Joel down, you continued, “did you somehow think that it would–, what, improve my sleep at night or just your own? Were you gonna come home one day and just go congratulations, honey! They are all dead! Do you really think that would have helped me or are you truly just incapable of thinking with anything but your fists, getting your hands dirty because of something that has absolutely nothing to do with you?” he averted his gaze as you got up in his face, “I get that you’re invested, that you want them to pay, but this isn’t your choice to make,” your finger poked his chest harshly, “you don’t get to choose for me how or even if I want revenge. I get to choose that, me, not you,” you gave him a heated shove, completely numb to the tears that streamed down your cheeks and muffled your words. With your chest heaving, watching as he didn’t try to close the gap you had forced, you uttered, the exhaustion seeping through your sentence, “things were just starting to get better and then you go and drag me right back into it.”

With your vision still locked on Joel as he just stood there and took it all, Tommy’s voice piped up once more, “plum, just–” 

Cutting him off, you set the record straight, “I’m not telling you.”

“But–”

“No,” you shot him a glare and repeated, “I’m not telling you where they are. This right here,” you motioned between the brothers and ordered, “it stops now. Whatever plan you’ve been cooking up, forget it.”

You lost count of how long, how many days, perhaps weeks, you locked yourself in your house. 

The unanswered knocks Joel’s fist echoed on your front door soon evolved into him stubbornly planting himself out on your pouch each and every day. 

It wasn’t till the day when someone came to supply you with some more food that you finally had to open the door and consequently be forced to face him once again. 

“Plum–,” he sprung up from his seat on the wobbly bench as soon as you creaked the door open. 

You tried not to look at him as you swiftly bent down to snatch up the tupperware. 

“Go away,” you growled wearily. 

But your attempt at slamming the door shut failed as Joel swiftly stuck his solid boot in to block it, “if you would please just let me explain–”

“No,” you finally glared up at him as he pushed himself inside, “just please stop,” briefly turning to set the food down, you then ripped the door back open as he tried to close it behind him, “I don’t wanna hear whatever excuse you have,” you held it open for him to leave, “nothing you can say will ever make me forgive what you’ve done. That’ll never happen,” you sucked in a sharp breath as you blinked back into Joel’s glossy gaze, “I–… I am so mad at you…” your gaze then fluttered shut as your breaths grew unsteady, “so mad that I could easily do some very well deserved, yet regrettable things to you… but I–…” tears rolled down your cheeks as your eyes flickered back open to catch his stare, “I love you,” the phrase caused a rift to crack in your hard shell, “I won’t forgive you, but I still love you.”

With a glint of hope twinkling in his eye, Joel took a step closer to you, though halted as you raised up a palm. 

“But if you ever so much as think about doing something like that again, I’ll cut your fucking balls off.” 

As he then seized the sides of your face, a wistful whimper fell from your lips. Moving slowly, ever so slowly, he simply stared back at you as he inched in closer. 

As soon as he pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth, an entrapped cry forced its way out of your form and even though the sensation was one you longed for, one that already began to mend your festering wound, your palms still found his broad chest and showed him back. 

“You should go,” you uttered, your gaze falling to the floor as your fingers fluttered up to ghost over the fading memory of his peck. 

“Plum–”

Hoping that he hadn’t noticed the already packed rucksack leaning up against the nearby wall, you whispered, “please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

But he still didn’t move to exit out the open door, only tilted his head with terrified recognition and breathed, “…no,” as the cold air blew in betwixt your frames, “sweetheart, please don’t do what think you’re doing.” 

A low sigh flowed from you as you averted your gaze, incapable of denying his accusation, “Joel–”

“Take me with you,” he demanded, “I won’t just stand here and let the woman that I love go out on a suicide mission on your own.” 

“I–, Joel…” you let out a wobbly whimper, “I don’t trust you enough right now to drag you along. I didn’t even wanna do this, it’s your fault, it was you who plunged me back into it, and now I–…” your words crumbled away as your stare faded out into nothingness, intentionally having to suck in a pained breath and fill up your lungs once more to you rip yourself out of the abyss, just enough to say, “I just want it all to stop…” 

Taking a step closer to you, he uttered, “please,” and caught your palm, begging you to meet his gaze, “let me help you.”

As you stared back into his pleading eyes, you felt your ramped pulse begin to settle down, and not many moments managed to pass by before you opened your mouth once more, only needing the warm touch of his hand and the soothing presence of his gaze to flip your stubborn coin. 

“…they call it Paradise, the place where they moved their group. It’s somewhere down in Arizona…”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[vivwritesfics]

Bloody Knuckles

boxer!max

It was a shitty apartment. The wallpaper was peeling, their was damp on the ceiling and none of the appliances worked. At least half of the windows had to be forced open, and the other half were permanently shut. Neither of them could remember the last time their shower stayed warm for more than two minutes.

Hidden away in the bedroom, he laid awake, fingers brushing up and down her arm. She was so delicate compared to him, his bandaged fingers against her skin unmarred by cuts and bruises. She could break, and he would do anything to stop that.

In her sleep, she rolled over and planted her face on his chest. He bit down on his tongue, stopping himself from screaming out in pain at the sensation. She didn't know just how mad the last fight had been, how bad he had come out.

He was the winner, of course. He always was.

His freckled, pillowy lips met the top of her head. Fuck, he loved her. He loved her more than words could describe. His heart ached. It might have been the pain, or the guilt he was harbouring.

When the sun rose (visible because the curtains left the bottom few inches of the window exposed, and they couldn't get the curtain rod down to change it), he did. He slipped out of bed and she rolled onto his side of the bed. Her face was buried against his pillow when he got changed into his workout gear and slipped out of the room.

The change in his pocket paid for his red bull and he headed to the gym.

His build wasn't expected of most boxers. He wasn't big and bulky, with bulging muscles. That was why people betting on him made so much money at first, because he was the underdog.

But he had been in the game for too long now, and people knew his tricks.

Throwing his stuff into his usually locker, number thirty three, he finished his Red Bull and began wrapping his knuckles.

"Maximus," said Daniel as he stepped out of the shower, towel around his hips. "Big night tonight, huh?" He asked and Max gave a nod. "You got the ring?"

He turned and fished the little black box from his gym bag. That was there he'd been hiding it from her, keeping it at the very bottom of his gym bag.

Max opened the box, showing Daniel the engagement ring inside. It was simple, nothing fancy. A simple band with dainty leaves engraved on it.

"She's gonna love it."

Daniel had never met the woman Max wanted to marry. But he was right, she was going to love it.

Max tapped his knuckles together, shut his locker, and headed out into the gym.

***

God, she looked lovely. Her best pair of earrings dangled from her ears and the necklace Max had gotten her for Christmas hung from her neck.

She'd had the dress longer than she'd known Max. She rarely got to wear it, usually had a bag hanging over it in the wardrobe to keep it safe.

But tonight it hugged her frame just right as she walked on Max's arm. She had no idea where they were going as Max wrapped his arm around her.

But then she saw the restaurant. A gasp left her lips. "Max, we can't afford this," she whispered. And tugged on her arm.

But Max stopped her. "Trust me, liefje, I've got this," he assured her and gave the waiter the name on his reservation.

Dinner with the man she loved. She ordered the cheapest thing possible on the menu even when Max reassured her he could cover the bill, no matter what it was.

She didn't know how Max had made enough extra cash to take her to the fanciest restaurant going. She didn't know the illegal fights he was a part of and the money it was making.

It was going smoothly. The ring was in his pocket, ready for him to get down onto one knee. The weight of it was so damn heavy, Max couldn't wait.

"Mad Max?"

His stomach dropped. That name was never meant to be said outside of the ring. He wildly looked around for the owner of the voice, breaths coming out shallow.

"Let's get out of here, liefje," he said and placed wads of cash down with the receipt.

Unaware of anything wrong, she placed her hand in in his and followed him out of the restaurant.

"Mad Max, wait!"

Max sped them up, pulling her along behind him. "Come on, man! I've put a shitload of money on you!"

Suddenly, Max had him. He pushed the man, a guy he had seen at quite a few ot his fights, against the wall. "Leave us the fuck alone!" He roared, pressing on the guys neck.

He dropped him, grabbed his girl, and sped off.

"What the hell was that?" She gasped, footsteps hurried to keep up with him.

Max shook his head. "Don't worry about it, liefje." His jaw was tight. "It's never gonna happen again."

[broodybuck]

Title: Through Your Window

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, masturbation, horny Bucky Barnes, stalker Bucky Barnes, pining, couch sex, Inspired by You (TV 2018)

Summary: Bucky finds a new muse from his window and it's you. He's captivated from the first moment he sees you but can't imagine he could ever have you.

[ao3 link]

He tries not to stare but he's been trained to observe. To hide in the shadows and watch. He's partially hidden behind the curtain of his window but he should conceal himself fully if he wants to keep his eyes on you.

You're not looking, you're distracted, treading around the apartment while collecting items here and there. You are across the alleyway in the building opposite his. It feels like a cruel gift. You're right in his view, he doesn't even need to strain to see you. He merely needs to walk to his window and watch.

Today, you're cleaning clutter from your living room. To put these items away means that you're bending down, arching at your hips, reaching over your head. It's allowing him to see every curve on you, especially with the sheer blouse and tight jeans you're wearing.

Why would you wear that, Bucky wonders. To entice him... that shirt is so sheer, he can see your bra. It's light pink and lacy. He licks his lips staring at it. His skin burns. He can't move. He's frozen, fixated on you until you walk out of his line of sight away from the windows. He sighs quietly to himself.

This is unfair, he decides. He hasn't looked at a woman since he's gotten free. Now, he found you. Your apartment is perfectly visible from his kitchen window. You, who leaves your blinds open at all hours of the day and walks around with those hips, those breasts.

He's hard. He's avoided getting turned on until now. A loud crash breaks Bucky from his trance. He looks down to realize he broke the coffee mug in his hand, causing half of the cup to smash onto the floor.

Fuck it, he needs to jerk off.

Putting his hand on himself feels like an ocean of relief but a wave of immense shame washes over him too. Because he hasn't retreated to the bedroom, he's pressing himself into the wall of his kitchen to keep the window still in view. So he can still see you as you walk back into the living room.

God, you're beautiful. He wants to touch you. He wants so many things he's not allowed. And yet, he's furiously jerking off to the thought of it all. Watching your every move, pumping himself harder and harder.

He's deplorable. He shouldn't be doing this. But it feels like he can't breathe until he's done. Splattering the wall in his release, breathing raggedly, forehead pressing against the window frame.

At least, you'll never know.

After careful consideration, Bucky decides that fantasies are okay. They are harmless and hence, why he's allowing himself to watch you across the way and touch himself whenever he needs to. Which is a lot, by the way, probably too much. But it's not hurting anyone.

After a week, Bucky has learned many things about you. How you like your coffee, your favorite food. You don't have many friends over, you don't go out often. You work at home from your laptop. Thankfully, at a desk placed in your living room where Bucky has a perfect view of you. He loves your little face of concentration. Sometimes, you bite your lip and as cute as it is, it makes him so hard he has to get off every time you do it.

He's counted the floors and windows and figured out which apartment you live in. He knows it sounds creepy, but he's not planning to break in. He just wanted to learn your name. He learns it when he sneaks into your building and finds your mailbox downstairs. Then, looks you up with a quick Google search. Now he can scream y/n every time he comes.

That's all he wanted, a little more for his fantasies. For his little treat every day. He doesn't have much else except therapy and working at the bodega down the street. So, he's letting himself have this. He's letting himself have you.

Except, he can't just stop at your name. He wants to learn everything about you. He wants his fantasies to feel real. So he goes through your mail. He finds your credit card bill and takes pictures before perfectly sealing the envelopes back up and returning them to your mailbox.

He now knows what stores you shop at, what restaurants you eat at, the bookstore you occasionally frequent. And he begins going to all these places too. On his own, of course. He likes just knowing you were there, wondering what you picked off the menu or which book you chose.

Unfortunately, this is precisely what leads to him accidentally running into you. Literally. He turns around with his coffee to-go cup and bangs into you, spilling his coffee all over one of your too-thin blouses.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Bucky jumps for napkins.

His impulse is to help clean the spill himself but it's all over your chest, more specifically your breasts. His hands stop mid-motion, reaching the napkins toward you.

You accept the napkins shyly.

"It's okay," you tell him as you start dabbing your wet shirt.

Since the coffee soaked through your shirt, Bucky can see too much of the outline of your breasts. He averts his gaze. When you look back up at him, he eventually meets your eyes again. Now he can see the distinct specks of color in your eyes.

"I feel terrible. Can I get you a new shirt?" Bucky offers.

You pause, your mouth quirking into a smile.

"A new shirt?"

"Please, I'll pay for a new one or something," Bucky urges.

"How about you just buy me a coffee and we'll be even," you suggest.

"Of course."

He thinks he's safe. He survived the coffee incident and left shortly after buying you a drink. He thought it was done. Then he ran into you again.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise since he's frequenting all your favorite places. But this one is all his fault because he went back to your building and you caught him in the mailroom. Luckily, he was empty-handed but you still recognized him.

"Hey, aren't you coffee-spilling-guy?" you smirk.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry again... about that."

"I'm just teasing. I didn't know you lived here."

He shifts uncomfortably.

"I was actually visiting a friend," he lies.

"Oh, and getting their mail?"

He winces, you're too smart for him to trick, and already being this close to you again is doing bad things to him. Now that you're not covered in coffee, there's nothing masking the smell of your perfume. It's floral and too sweet. He wants to lick your neck.

When he doesn't answer, you fill in the silence.

"It's none of my business. I'm y/n by the way, I don't think we exchanged names."

You put out your hand and he looks oddly terrified of your palm but he manages to shake your hand briefly before informing you his name is "Bucky".

"Well, maybe I'll see you around, Bucky."

"Yeah, maybe."

You smile at him and he gives you half of one back. Then he nods, shuffling out of the mailroom and out the front door.

He needs to stop going out, Bucky decides. He can't risk running into you. He's already encountered two close calls — both too close for his liking.

The window is safe, so the window is where he'll stay. He's standing a few feet back watching you work today. He's already been here an hour.

You lean back in your chair and stretch your arms then you head into the kitchen and come back with a cup of water. You walk it over to the window sill and pour some water into a plant sitting on the ledge.

Then, you pause and slowly your eyes lift up. You look right through the window at Bucky watching you.

Bucky can't breathe in a terrible way. It's far too late to duck but he does so anyway.

He's been caught. Now he can never watch you again.

The worst thing happens two days later. Bucky is only outside because of his weekly therapy appointment. He's walking home, avoiding all your favorite spots, but you still manage to run into him.

This time from across the street. You see him first and it takes a second for him to notice you and then stop dead in his tracks, looking afraid to move.

You hurry over to him and he looks so tense, you're nervous to get too close.

"Hey, funny running into you again."

"I live over there," he points defensively.

"I know," you smile. "I saw you."

"I wasn't trying to stare, I..."

"I'm not mad. You were just looking out your window. It's not like that's a crime," you laugh. "You know, if you weren't so attractive, I'd probably be more freaked out."

Bucky visibly gulps. "You think I'm attractive?"

"Yeah," you shrug. "Hoping the feeling is mutual."

His eyes go wide, your face blushes in response.

"Sorry, that was too forward," you apologize.

"The feeling is very mutual," he responds low. It sends a vibration down your spine.

"You know, we keep running into each other. Maybe the universe wants us to have coffee together. I have some up at my place."

"Oh," he hesitates.

"Maybe you could spill some on me," you tease.

He laughs, thankfully, getting the joke. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"I'd love a coffee," he says.

The coffee is a move. That should've been obvious but Bucky didn't realize how weak he'd be the second you made one. Because after you set the coffee cup down in front of him, you just lean over and kiss him.

Bucky's not sure how to describe the feeling of all his fantasies coming true. How many times had he imagined your lips, exactly what they'd feel like, taste like? They're perfect. Far better than he could dream.

He knew this wouldn't be good if he ever got this. Got you. He knew he'd lose all sense of control and he eagerly leans back in, kissing you more forcefully. You moan against his lips and that sends a shudder through him.

"Be honest," you draw back to say. "Were you watching me through the window?"

"Yes," he admits huskily. He waits expecting you to pull away but you lie down on the couch and pull him with you by the collar of his shirt.

"That doesn't scare you?" he asks, hovering over you.

You shake your head, dragging him down to your lips and kissing him again.

Bucky has one mind to tell you how long he's been watching you, fantasizing about you, dying to have you. But he knows that won't sound sane. Besides, you're currently rolling your hips up into his groin which is making his head spin.

He groans and lets his weight crush yours so your bodies fall flush. You immediately start grinding up into him which drives him crazy.

He hasn't done this in a while but his instincts take over and he moves with you, sucking at the skin on your neck while you moan and play with his hair. Your fingers feel like silk, lacing through his brown locks and down his neck. He shivers, kissing you.

Bucky reaches down and slips his hand under your skirt. He gasps when he feels how soaked your underwear is.

"Have you been thinking about me?" he growls, the thought alone makes him feral.

You nod as he pushes the fabric aside to tease you. You arch back, sucking in a sharp breath with a smile.

"I've seen you—" you pant. "Watching me— for weeks."

Bucky's eyes go wide. His hand pauses.

"And once," you continue, eyes locked with his. "I saw your eyes closed and your face — you were coming, I realized."

He swallows pulling his hand back but you grab his wrist, keeping him there.

"You were getting off. I couldn't believe the hot guy watching me was that turned on just from looking at me. You couldn't even control yourself."

Bucky closes his eyes. "I have no restraint with you."

"Good," you grin and reach for the belt of his pants, unbuckling the strap, then pulling the fly open.

When you grab his cock, he groans loud. He's so hard in your hand, you lick your lips hungrily. You tug him forward and he moves in between your legs, taking hold of himself so you let go.

Then he pushes inside of you in one, easy glide. He stops, breathing heavily over you with his eyes closed. You frame his face.

"Wanna see you make that face again," you purr.

"Fuck, y/n," he rasps.

He rocks his hips into you and ramps up to an earnest pace.

"Oh fuck," you whine, grabbing onto him tighter. He buries his face in your neck, turning to speak roughly in your ear.

"When you come, I'm not gonna forget your face. It'll be all I dream about now."

"How're you so sure I'll come," you try to dare but you're already getting way too close with the way he's ramming into you.

He slows his pace and sits back to glare at you. You bite your lip as he hooks your thighs and pulls you closer, forcing himself deeper inside you.

He doesn't say anything just spreads your thighs apart, pressing them down into the cushions, and fucks you harder than before. His one hand finds your clit and he starts making circles with his thumb.

Your eyes roll back. There's no doubt you're gonna come. You moan out, gripping the armrest behind you.

"Bucky, please," you pant.

He presses forward, cradles your body to turn you both on your sides, and holds you against his chest now. Your thighs are hiked up as high as they can go. The new angle makes you cry out with every new thrust and he's somehow gaining more fervor, fucking you even harder until your thighs start trembling.

He doesn't stop until your orgasm crashes over you like hot lava, melting you from the inside and pouring over every inch of you. You scream into his chest while he keeps fucking you through it.

You're gasping, trying to breathe through the rapture while feeling how sensitive you are around his cock still slamming into you.

You're slurring something, but you're not even sure if you're telling him to stop or keep going. Your eyes roll back again, every inch of you won't stop vibrating, and you're not sure how much more you can take.

Then he slams into you hard and stops abruptly, fully buried inside you. The groan he makes sounds almost painful. His eyes are squeezed shut again, you recognize the expression he makes. You flush hot as you watch him come.

You both sit in the sounds of your labored breathing. You're still wrapped around him, he's still inside you.

"It was better up close," you whisper cheekily, carding a few fingers through his hair.

He sucks in a breath and looks at you with so much intensity that your hand freezes in his hair, you're scared to speak.

"I'd watch you make that face every day if you'd let me."

"You just wanna watch?" you grin.

He shakes his head, then pauses to reconsider it, then shakes his head again.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"That could be hot to roleplay it."

"Roleplay... what?"

"Our story," you smirk. "I'll get myself off while you stand against the window, watching me."

He breathes in shakily, already too turned on by the idea.

"You have no idea how bad you are for me," he gravels.

"Bad for you?" you laugh.

"I have no control around you."

"Good," you tell him, brushing his hair back. "I don't want you to."

[aaronsguccitie]

Safety fort

----

Your son is scared during a thunderstorm; collectively, the whole family tries to ease it for him.

Cw: fem!mom!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (?), Jack being the best big brother, no use of yn, reader is actually present in this lol

Word count: 1.6k

----

It’s no secret that you love the rain. Drizzles, summer showers, thunderstorms and downpours all put you in a cozy mood. Something about gloomy weather inexplicably makes you happy, always fighting back a smile at the next roll of thunder. Jack also shares your enthusiasm; Aaron is mostly indifferent except for his annoyance at the way it dampens his clothes.

But in this moment, both you and him vehemently resent the rain.

Elliot is nestled in Aaron’s arms, his thready cries somewhat stifled into his shoulder. Thunder cracks and he hiccups, his whole body shivering as Aaron rocks him back and forth, gentle reassurances falling from his lips to deaf ears. His choked sobs are somehow louder than the thunder, and the sight makes your heart twist into furious knots. 

It’s been like this for half an hour. At first, Elliot wasn’t bothered much by the rain, influenced by yours and Jack’s excitement, but then thunder boomed, lightning struck, and he crawled into Aaron’s arms, his frightened whimpers like a knife through your gut.

The blinds to your bedroom are shut tight, blocking out the lighting, but nothing softens the rumble of thunder as it seeps through the walls. The earbuds you’d tried to make him wear are lost somewhere in the bed, hidden under the endless sheets. 

Aaron’s shirt is wet with snot and tears, but it’s the least of his concerns as he rubs Elliot’s back and gently shushes him, to no avail. Tear tracks are visible on your son’s cheeks, his eyes damp and bloodshot as he sniffles at another roiling of thunder.

“Eli, it’s not scary,” Jack tries to soothe his little brother. He touches one of the fists tightly bunched in Aaron’s shirt. “It’s just rain.”

Aaron gives him a small smile. “He’s scared of the thunder, buddy,” he says softly. “You used to be, too, remember?”

Jack frowns. He shakes his head and the brief confusion on his face makes you crack a worn smile; this is news to you, too. 

“When you were really little,” Aaron says, his shoulders slumping against the headboard. His hand is firm on Elliot’s back as the toddler buries himself under Aaron’s jaw, away from your eyes.

“But I’m not scared anymore. It went away.” Jack says.

“It could go away,” you agree, brushing his hair away from his forehead, “but it could also stay, even as you get older.”

He tilts his head. “Even when you’re a grown up?”

“Even then.”

Jack hums thoughtfully and settles against your side, slotting between you and Aaron. His attention goes to the movie you’d put on in an attempt to distract Elliot, and your eyes slide to your husband. He’s now murmuring sweet nothings into your son’s forehead, too low for you to hear over the TV and wet sniffles. Both his hands are wrapped protectively around his body, his lips pressed to Elliot’s hair as small fists clutch his shirt with surprising strength.

There’s a few minutes of blissful silence with just the rain pattering against the windows, after which Elliot tentatively lifts his head from Aaron’s shoulder. His face, blotchy and tear-stained, comes into view, and you reach over Jack to wipe the wetness from his cheek.

“Hey, baby,” you smile softly at him, catching a tear with your thumb. Aaron wipes at his other cheek, then lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe under his nose. “How about you watch some Toy Story with Jack? We’re getting close to your favorite part.” The movie plays at least three times a week in your home, but now you’re desperate for him to be distracted by it.

Elliot blinks his wet lashes at you. “Is the rain gone?” His raspy voice breaks your heart.

“Not yet, Eli.” Aaron murmurs, rubbing circles on his back. “You can watch the movie while we wait for it to go.” He nudges gently, his voice low and soothing. Elliot still frowns, fear creased above his brows.

“The rain won’t hurt you, Elliot.” Jack joins in. Aaron’s eyes meet yours and a shadow of a dimple appears in his cheek as you both hold back matching smiles. “It’s just loud, but it won’t hurt ’cause we’re inside.” He says earnestly.

“He’s right, baby,” Aaron says, endlessly gentle as Elliot’s lip wobbles. “It’s not gonna—”

A loud boom rattles the windows. A deafening crack follows, and a few seconds later you see lightning flash from the gap between the blinds and the floor.

Elliot scrambles back into Aaron’s arms with a choked sob. 

“Make it stop, Daddy.”

You can audibly hear Aaron’s heart crack. His face falls, a helplessness to it that makes you stand suddenly, sick of watching your son suffer. 

“Okay,” you announce, your mind rushing to come up with something as Elliot wails. “Let’s…uhh—let’s make a fort, yeah?” You snap your fingers and Jack nods in agreement. “We’ll make it around the bed—c’mon, grab the blankets from your bed and I’ll get the ones from Eli’s.”

Ignoring the rattle to the windows, you and Jack set to work. Elliot’s cries reach you as you gather blankets and cushions and lamps, making several trips to and from your room with the supplies in hand. 

When you walk back in for the last time, you find Aaron pacing around and holding a hand to Elliot’s ear, the other one pressed to his chest. His hand spans Elliot’s whole head and he cups it carefully, his fingers steady on the back of his neck. Elliot quiets a bit as his father rocks him gently, swiping kisses on his forehead as the rain lashes on. By the time you and Jack are done assembling the fort, he’s worn himself out, limp in Aaron’s arms. He sniffles as you approach and rubs a small fist into his eye.

“Elliot,” you say gently, wiping under his nose with your sleeve. His bloodshot eyes meet yours and you have to force a smile, your gut twisting. “See this fort Jack and I made?” 

He nods sluggishly. 

“I’ll tell you a secret.” You hold out your hands. He reaches for them, accepting the invitation into your embrace and settling into your arms. Automatically, he slots his head under your jaw, his arms wrapping around your neck as you rub circles on his back. “Nothing bad can reach you here. Not even the thunder or the rain,” you whisper as he nuzzles further into your neck. “We’re gonna go in and we’re gonna be safe, okay?”

Elliot sniffles as you duck inside the fort and crouch-walk to settle on the edge of the bed—with some difficulty, but the low hanging canopy of the blankets seems to help calm him down. You and Jack had set lamps across the small space, so it’s lit up with a warm glow.

“Promise?” Your son mumbles, curling into you when the windows rattle.

“I promise, sweet boy.” You kiss his forehead as Jack and Aaron duck inside.

It’s almost comical, how Aaron has to bend over double and crawl to the edge of the bed. He looks at you and gives you a self-deprecating smile, to which you respond with a small wink. Jack kneels next to him too, placing his elbows on the mattress and holding his years old stuffed orca in hand.

“Willy will keep you safe, Eli.” He gives it to Elliot.

His brother’s face lights up in turn as he clutches the orca. Two of Aaron’s dimples lightly press against his cheeks and he smiles hesitantly, his fingers curling into its soft fur. The fear momentarily leaves his eyes, wonder replacing it as he holds the stuffed toy to his chest and nuzzles his face into it. 

You comb your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching along his scalp and watching as his lashes flutter, exhaustion weighing heavy on him. Aaron presses his smile to Jack’s forehead with a kiss. “Thank you, Jack,” he murmurs, pride coloring his voice. 

Jack shrugs and reaches for his tablet, opening up a game that Elliot pays half an eye to. You almost forget the storm, sitting in a small circle with your Hotchner boys, all of them drenched in warm light. The fort does seem like a safe haven, you think, the quilted insides of the blankets surrounding you in downy softness. 

Beneath the blankets, with the orca held to his chest, Elliot grows steadily drowsy in your arms. Aaron straightens and climbs up next to you on the bed, his knees cracking—you stifle a laugh, him a groan—and Jack sprawls on the floor, the low sound effects of a game echoing through the small space.

Careful not to jostle Elliot too much, you scooch back onto the bed until you meet the headboard. Aaron lays his head on his pillow; his hand meets yours as you absently comb through your son’s hair.

His breaths start to even out and you exhale slowly, relief palpable in your bones. Your eyes meet Aaron’s and you find a similar relief there, swirling in honey brown eyes. His fingers briefly link through yours and you squeeze, pausing your scratches on Elliot’s scalp as the two of you share a smile.

When thunder rolls around again, your son’s eyes crack open, a hazy fear in them. 

“You’re okay, Elliot.” Aaron whispers. He softly runs his knuckle over Elliot’s cheek. “It can’t reach us here.”

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” you lightly trace the soft skin between his brows. The more you do it, the more his lashes flutter as he tries to hang on. The thunder is distant, retreating, chased away by the fort and its safety.

“Kiss, Mommy.” Elliot mumbles sleepily.

“Of course,” you smile softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. One doesn’t suffice; you brush two, three, on his temple and next to his now dry eyes. “Daddy too?” You murmur into his soft skin.

He nods. 

Aaron also obliges, his lips pressing tenderly against Elliot’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, buddy.”

When thunder rumbles again, Elliot doesn’t stir.

[poppy-metal]

playing truth or dare with art and patrick and it ends with patrick daring you to suck arts cock - art is scandalized and patrick is grinning and you..... well. a dares a dare - and you and patrick have always had a competitive streak. he may have suggested it because he knows both you and art are more reserved than he is, but you suprise them both when you swallow and say, "okay," and then turn to art with big wide eyes - "is it okay if I do it?"

they both gape at you - art splutters - you're all tipsy, and all a little horny from patricks earlier dare of asking you to take your shirt and shorts off - leaving you in just a bralett and panties. they've both been serepticiously stealing glances at your stiff nipples peaking through the sheer fabric throughout the night.

art hovers his hand over his crotch - flits his gaze to patrick who looks at him like 'what the fuck' and glances back to you - cheeks pink. "um. you don't have -"

"you don't have to." patrick cuts in, clearing his throat. his cheeks are flushed too. his blush more fuscia than arts bubblegum pink. he adjusts himself in his shorts. "I was being a dick."

and maybe its the alcohol making you suddenly so brazen - but something about this - this night, this scenario, this weird fucking symbiotic friendship you have going on with these two - and them with eachother - you're horny and worked up and not wanting to back down.

so you shrug and say, "that's fine if art doesn't want me to. but don't say it's because I backed out of the dare - you guys are the ones who pussied out, not me."

silence. you feel both of their eyes on you and you know if it weren't for the buzz of alcohol you'd been twisted up in knots under their gazes. flushed and squirming.

art says, quietly - "you want to?"

you look at him - he's so pretty. angelic. soft blonde curls and blue eyes. gentle demeanor that hides a hidden nastier side you've seen glimpses of. one of your closest friends and the other half of your constant masturbatory fantasies. always with your best intrest at heart, almost annoyingly chivalrous, annoying in that it makes your cunt throb constantly.

do you want to? he'd be better off asking a dog if it wanted a treat.

you shrug - playing it cool for now. smile at him.

"I want to win my dare."

you glance at patrick then, "unless you're retracting it? accepting your loss?"

he closes his mouth which had been comically parted in shock - visibly swallowing. you watch his adams apple bob and think about all the times you've seen him toss his head back to drain a water bottle during or after a match, how many times you've watched his throat work - watched him in general really.

he was the moon to arts sun - the dark to his light - where art was prince charming wrapped up in thorns, patrick was big bad wolf trying to blow down your house. he made you hate him almost as much as he made you want him. one moment kicking his shin under a table for eating like a pig, and in the next breath having your clit pulse when he grinned salaciously at you and sucked sauce off his finger.

you almost wish he'd dared you to suck his cock - if you weren't equally as eager to get your mouth around art.

he tries to play it casual like you, but you can see the tent in his shorts - leaning back to brush a hand through his thick hair, which does nothing but flop back forward across his forehead - "a dares a dare. if art doesn't wanna bitch out then go for it." his green eyes flash, "I triple dog you."

"well now I have to do it," you tease. look back to art.

he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth - his fingers idling by the buttons on his shorts. hiding your prize from you - you can feel your mouth pool with saliva and swallow, attempting not to drool. not yet.

"I dont know how I feel about being used as a sexual prop," he mumbles, but his voice is shaky and light - clearly trying to make a joke and you grin, getting on your hands and knees, so your panty clad ass is facing patrick as you crawl forward towards art like a predator stalking its prey.

"then take your hand off your cock, donaldson," you purr. he flushes up to his ears and puts both hands by his sides, leaning back on them as you approach slowly. "besides, we all know that's not true. you probably love the idea of being a prop."

he licks his lips - darting his eyes behind you to meet patricks. some secret communication - you hear patrick say, "c'mon. s'just a game - " low and deep, in a way that is very much not just a game. not to any of you.

art breathes out - looks back to meet your eyes and then extends his legs out, spreading them for you - you can see the very prominent bulge of his cock.

he nods. "alright." he says, "I guess we're doing this. shit - " you make it all the way between his legs, your eyes never leaving his as you deliberately lower your chest to the ground, ass up, until you're level with his clothed crotch.

you hear patricks sharp intake of breath from behind you - know hes getting and eye full of your ass, more than he's ever seen of it - your panties sliding into the crevice of your ass, exposing your round cheeks to him, and under that - the outline of your cunt through the thin fabric barely covering it. you imagine the dark look in his eye, him reaching down to palm his cock. it makes your pussy clench.

you look up at art sweetly, palms sliding up his thighs until you reach the buttons on his shorts - he blinks long blonde lashes down at you in awe. swallows and then says, "you're r - really pretty." and it's such an art thing to say, at a moment like this - with patrick to watch you shatter the boundaries of your already precarious friendship - probably jerk off while he does - you just think -

I'm going to suck the soul outta this boys dick in such a disrespectful, sloppy manner it will make both him and patrick look at me different.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

I've been wanting to request this ask for a long time now, and I think it's too cute not to send in.

May I request MC playing a scary video game with Idia and get so scared that they hug him in surprise?

Idia Shroud:

Idia didn’t play games for the sake of others often.

He never imagined that someone would get enjoyment out of watching him play let alone you, the person who he desired to have close to him at all times (which is a lot for an introvert). He almost thought you were just toying with him when you brought up the game, just seeing if he had heard of it and if it was worth your time to play. He never expected you to come knocking at his door late into the night, almost having a heart attack as he pulled you into his room and hoped no other Ignihyde member had caught sight of you.

“It’s better to play scary games in the dark, right?” You held up the game with a smile on your face, Idia’s heart having no chance to recover from your first attack. “Come on, you’re not scared, right~?”

Your teasing tone, while not like others who might think a nerd like him couldn’t handle a game full of jump scares and purposely poor graphics, was still egging him on and it was a challenge he couldn’t deny. Not when you were the one issuing it.

You eagerly pulled a seat closer to him and he inched over to make room, trying to steady his breathing as you were barely an inch away from him. He wasn’t used to anyone being in his space like this and it made his fingers twitchy, hitting wrong keys as he tried to optimize the playing experience by messing around in the settings. You don’t seem to notice, reading the back of the game case with a smile on your face; it seemed you were genuinely excited to watch him play.

When the game finally starts up an eerie tune fills the room, and you quickly locked on to the computer screen. Your shoulder brushed against his and he tensed, finger gripping his mouse like his life depended on it. You’re observing every little detail of the opening cutscene as Idia can’t stop stealing glances at you, your face only visible from the glow of the screen yet remaining just as beautiful as it always was.

The story is established, some stupid teens going into a forbidden place haunted by a legend that had hints of an unavoidable supernatural truth. They brazenly wanted to explore the seemingly empty woods only highlighted by the moon, hoping to finally put the violent spirit to rest. The gameplay is basic, with Idia having little fear of making himself look like a fool in front of you. Not that you would notice, as you seemed completely enraptured by the story, eyes darting everywhere as you try to figure out where the ghost will approach from first.

The first jump scare is loud and jarring, annoying to Idia who had seen it coming a mile away and almost sighed from how basic it was. He would’ve complained if it wasn’t for the way you had jumped nearly ten feet in the air, grabbing onto his arm that was closest to you. Were you scared? No way, right? Idia glanced at you and saw your face was half-hidden behind his arm which you held in front of you like a shield, unwilling to completely look away but still trying to protect yourself.

Idia wanted to scream. How cute could you be?!

This game would be the death of him, but not for the reason you might assume.

[lamaery]

Simply wanted to draw a Jon. It's been a while. And it felt wrong not to add a Martin. Cow-mug or cat-mug? ----------------------------- image description: Two digital potraits of Jonathan Sims ex-archivist and his Martin K. Blackwood painted in a dynamic mixture of rough, broad and thin, squiggly brush strokes. The first images shows Jon's head and upper body, sitting and reading a paperback book. His long black, salt and pepper hair is gathered in a loose knot at the back of his neck. The black beard on his jawline, pointy chin and upper lip is not very dense. Small round scars pepper the brown skin of his face, neckand the back of his visible hand. Additional there is a thick pink-white-ish line stretching across his pronounced Adam's apple. He wears a thick woolen cardigan in a deep green and rectangular glasses through which he gazed with his large, heavy lidded eyes not directly at the book in his hand, but just over the pages at something else to the left. His expression is not fully open and happy, but certainly unguarded and soft. In the shadow of the book cover which has the symbol of a green eye on his, one can make out a black ring on the middle of his left hand. Martin is depicted as a light-skinned, big, broad man with a round face and tousled, ash-blond hair. He too wears glasses, although their frames a big and much rounder than Jon's. He wears a green-blue pullover and holds two mugs in his hands, both steaming with hot tea. One mug features the cartoony face of a cat, half hidden behind the tea string and paper bit on those. The other mug has a shaggy Scottish highland cow on it and the painful pun "Cow are you?" There are soft dimples in Martin's round cheeks as he smirks mirthfully down to his right.

[nsharks]

Hi! I love love LOVE the way you write Ghost and his relationship w/ the reader!! Ignore me if requests are closed, but how did he react when the reader discovered she was pregnant???

"surprising ghost with a pregnancy" words: 1.8k tags: pregnant reader, fem!reader, slight angst?, fluff

“Hope ya don’t miss me during breaks, Lt.”

Soap watches the man he admires, in his infamous ruthlessness and all, stare with a straight gaze at the base’s entrance.

“Only when I drink too much,” Ghost says.

His mask is good for anonymity, yes. But it also does well in moments like these: the Scot beside him has no idea of the pulsing artery in his neck, the eagerness in each flicker of his gaze. He’s looking for you. Looking beyond the gates where you should be hidden somewhere.

Soap has no idea.

“What do you do in your free time, mate?” Soap wonders aloud, shifting the bag over his shoulder. Then, in a cheeky murmur, “Didn’t hear this from me, but I’ve heard whispers ‘bout some criminal activity.”

“Criminal activity?” Ghost repeats dully.

They’re getting closer.

He looks towards the spot you normally wait for him in: is that—?

He can see you.

The tension in his limbs fades to adoration. In the shadows, perfectly hidden but readily visible to his knowing eyes, is his girlfriend. Wearing one of the black hoodies he’d left behind. So big on you. He nearly groans at the sight.

Girlfriend is a weak title.

He hates it. It doesn’t encompass the truth of you: it’s such a simple word, too simple to capture how complicated of an effect you’d had on his life for nearly five years. To say Ghost loves his girlfriend would be to say he has a reason to live. It would be to say that you’ve got this behemoth of a man wrapped so tightly around your finger that his lungs just don’t work the same until he’s holding you.

(Perhaps that’s the reason for the little black box in his bag.)

He turns to the Sergeant and gives a half-hearted clap to his shoulder. “I save the criminal activity for weekends, Johnny.”

And with that, he leaves him (never was one for heartfelt goodbyes).

But he is now one for heartfelt reunions, he figures, because he’s ghosting his way towards you like some wild creature. Preying. Slipping under any eyes. His skeletal hands beyond desperate.

If Soap were to look carefully outside, under the shadow of the building, he’d see how the Lieutenant actually spends his free time.

He’d see his broad form envelop you.

He’d see him eagerly inch up his mask to reveal a pink mouth that doesn’t waste any time before sealing over yours.

And maybe, if he really looked, Soap might’ve been able to see how you cling to Ghost’s chest and tremble.

(But Soap doesn’t see any of this. Not today.)

Not even Ghost, whose got you in his arms, sees the shaking at first. His mind is a bit frenzied with the sensory overload of your smell, your soft hair, your breasts against his chest.

He only ends the kiss so he can get a good look at your face.

“Three months,” he grumbles, lips wet as he ushers the mask back over them. “Felt like a fuckin’ lifetime.”

“I know,” you whisper, but you fail to meet his eyes. “I was worried about you.”

The faintest contour of a smirk beneath his mask.

“Worried, were you?” He rubs your knuckles. “Lovely girl. Don’ worry about me. I’m a bit tough to kill.”

“Don’t,” your eyebrows pinch together. “Please… don’t even mention that.”

He rests his masked chin on top the crown of your head. His arms are so strong and warm and you breathe it all in. His hands stroke your hair with the gentlest of caresses as if, even after five years, he thinks you might be a fragile dream.

“I was so worried,” you say again. A whisper that he barely hears. “I—“

It’s now that he notices something. The rush of adrenaline has soothed over and now, taking your hands in his, Ghost notices the little tremors, swallows them up in the gulf of his large palms.

“Jesus, love,” he frowns. “You’re trembling.”

“There’s… something—“

Ashen eyelashes flutter against smudges of black paint. His shoulders tense as he pulls his chin away from your scented hair. Shifting his weight from boot to boot, Ghost further tucks you behind the colossal mass of him so even now, if someone were to look, all they’d see was his back.

His brows furrow behind a hard-shell skull. “What something?”

You’ve practiced these word so many times but now—

“What?” your boyfriend repeats, low and gruff. His relief is quickly turning into something dark. “Fuck, tell me. Did somethin’ happen?”

“Well, yes—“

“Christ,” he chokes. He doesn’t want to assume the worst, but it’s a gnawing fear. Always. “Someone else?”

“No, Simon.” You’re shaking your head. “It’s not that—“

“What is it then? What’s got you like this?”

“Just—“ and you swallow your fear, “Give me your hand, baby.”

“My hand,” he repeats numbly and offers you one. You take his hand and tug at the glove. There’s little give, so he swears under his breath and helps you pry the fabric off to reveal warm, calloused skin.

Here, tucked away outside a military base, you guide his bare hand under the hoodie you’ve got on. Hold his fingers and spread them apart so he can cup the small growth of your stomach.

Because the reason for your trembling lies here.

Small, growing. Supple skin stretching over a little piece of him and you.

It takes him a moment to process the news under his hand.

He smooths his hand over you. Even after three months, he knows every inch.

This—

This feels different.

You watch a kaleidoscope of realizations, feelings, and perturbation play in his eyes.

You’ve had to keep this secret to yourself for weeks now because it wasn’t something you could just share over the phone. It was too heavy. Too intimate.

Surely, it’ll distract him from his job.

That’s what you figured. But now—

—seeing his eyes cloud frantically, you wonder if showing up 16 weeks pregnant was the best move.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost murmurs. Keeps moving his hand over your little belly as if he’s not quite sure it’s real.

So you lift up the hoodie even more, just here for the two of you to see, and reveal the entirety of your secret for him to peer down at.

And now that he sees it, the unmistakeable bulge, the reality truly sinks in.

He’s silent at first. You kind of expected him to be: your boyfriend is a man of few words. But it doesn’t make the drawn-out moment of uncertainty any less excruciating. You study his eyes with a bated breath.

Children. It’s not something you talked about too much. He’d said in the very beginning that it was completely off the table because “I’d make an awful father”.

But that was years ago and Simon had molded into someone softer, someone less afraid. Someone who, with the help of your love and light, had ripped through the tangled ropes of distrust and guilt that he’d been caught in.

“Say something,” you finally whisper. “Please, Simon. I know- I know this is surprising.”

But all he utters is, “How?”

“The pill isn’t perfect,” you explain sheepishly. “That’s what the doctor told me—“

“…Doctor?”

“Well, I’ve been to the doctor a few times already.”

Lowly, “You… a few times?”

“To make sure everything was alright, baby,” you whisper carefully. “But I— I didn’t ask for the sex yet. I wanted to… I thought you’d want to be with me for that.”

Ghost is controlled. He’s precise and tactical and rarely caught off-guard. But this, the swell that lays under his hand which he hasn’t been able to look away from, has managed to thrust him into feelings he rarely experiences. He feels confused. Shaken to the core. He’s spent most of his adult life determined to stay alone, protect anyone from ever getting caught in the hallow storm of tragedy that is his life.

But you—

You infiltrated his life with promises of bright colors and warm touches and suddenly, somehow, Ghost began to enjoy coming home. He ached for it. He wanted to keep you close and safely tucked away so that little light of yours would never fade from his life.

And now you’ve given him another promise, one that rests in his palm. Death— he understands that too well, perhaps. But this little promise of life is so new and confusing and in mere seconds, it has torn the past from the future. Ghost could never be the same shell of a person he once was because now he’s been filled to the brim. Could he even be trusted with all of this? He’d always felt like there was a carved void where his boyhood had been taken from him, ripped away by terror. How could he be a father with such hole in his chest?

What could he give?

You’re crying. He’s been thrown into such a daze that he failed to notice the onslaught of tears and quiet sniffling coming from his girl.

“Hey,” he’s grounded in the present now, swallowing down the shards of his hesitation and wrapping his arms around you. He could give this. “Hey now. I’m here… I’m here.”

“You’re here?” you ask him, weeping.

“Yes, sweetheart. Christ, m’here. Always.”

In perhaps his first act of fatherhood, Ghost holds you close and murmurs promises of love and safety into your hair. You’d been so scared to tell him. He wouldn’t leave you, no, he could never. If there was ever an ounce of worry that he might—

It’s now smothered by his presence, his warmth, his strength.

“You’re making me a father,” Ghost whispers after the two of you just stand there for sometime. His voice: terrified and in awe all at once. “Don’t know if I’ll be a good one.”

“Simon-“

“But-“ And he gives the entirety of you a squeeze. He’s not going anywhere. “But I won’t be like my old man. Fuck, I swear it to you.”

“I know you won’t, Simon.”

Ghost decides to push his inhibitions to the back of his mind. He can be strong, he can be what you need. He will prove this to you over and over.

“And here I thought you jus’ liked wearing my clothes,” Ghost mumbles, a bit numb and a bit elated.

He reaches for your stomach again and rubs the bump over the fabric of his hoodie. (Perhaps, here lies another reason to live.)

Your crying has ceased. Twisting his uniform in your hands, you murmur with a weak laugh, “Might be the only thing that fits me soon.”

“Bloody hell.” And Ghost sighs. Holding the two of you now, he already feels like all the synapses in his brain have been rewired. Lighted up with a primal urge to protect, he doesn’t think about all the worries for right now. No— just thinks about how he’s going to smother your stomach with kisses once you’re home.

“I’ve got plenty more of those for you to wear.”

[taytei]

A ghost kings favorite resting place

[Imagine description below]

[Image ID: a collage of colored drawings of Hua Cheng resting in various positions in Xie Lian’s lap. All warmly lit, as if they’re sitting in sunset glow, except one. Buckle up, this is long.

The upper left an overhead shot of HC in his San Lang form, laid on his back with his head resting in XL’s lap, his arms extended back to rest lightly around XL’s waist. His eyes are closed, with a small and peaceful smile. XL’s face is obscured as he looks down at San Lang, one hand cradling his cheek and the other playing with his crooked ponytail.

Next, Hua Cheng in his ghost king form, sitting upright and cradled with Xie Lian’s arms wrapped around his waist. HC is leaning back into the hold, head tilted up and against XL’s head, eyes closed and his lips curled in a delighted smile. Xie Lian has his chin resting on HC’s shoulder, expression soft and equally delighted. Both have a light blush on their cheeks.

Next, Xie Lian is kneeling, his expression is soft and gentle as he leans over HC (ghost king form) resting on his lap. One hand is resting on HC’s head, hair tangled in his fingers as he brushes it away from his face. The other is cradling HC’s head, pillowing his cheek against his leg. Hua Cheng’s body is mostly obscured behind XL’s legs, with only really his head and is right arm visible. Said arm is curled around in front of XL’s legs, hand lightly gripping XL’s robe. He’s leaning his head into XL’s palm, eyes closed with a light smile, like he’s about to fall into a nap.

Next, Xie Lian is positioned like he’s sitting on a chair, feet planted on the ground. Hua cheng appears to be sitting on the ground next to XL’s legs, upper body sprawled across his legs. Xie Lian is leaning slightly forward, one hand resting on HC’s back, head tilted down enough to see his eyes are fond. Hua Cheng has one arm wrapped behind XL’s back and around waist, while his right arm is laid over the top of his legs. His expression is like a cat absolutely basking in comfort. On Xie Lian’s head, shoulder and hand (the one resting on HC’s back), rests Wraith Butterflies.

The next is a two part companion sketch. One is a smaller drawing. Hua Cheng is in his San Lang form, sitting in Xie Lian’s lap face-to-face. His hands are resting on XL’s shoulders, his legs on either side of XL’s waist. He has a lightly teasing smirk with a gentle blush on his face. Xie Lian is sitting cross legged, with his hands on either side of San Lang’s waist. He looks like he’s happily talking.

The follow up is a bigger drawing. Both in similar positions but more from behind Xie Lian, so his face is now obscured. Hua Cheng has poofed into his ghost king form, pink clouds circling around him to imply the transformation. His arms have now wrapped around Xie Lian’s neck, wrists lightly crossed over each other, with XL’s hair ribbon wrapped around some of his fingers. He’s leaning more forward into Xie Lian’s space, his expression just. Smitten. Singular eye half lidded. Xie Lian’s expression isn’t visible, but vibrant blush lines imply a flustered state. He’s still cradling Hua Cheng in his arms.

Upper right corner are uncolored, monochrome doodles. One of E-Ming resting in a coiled nest of Ruoye, his eye crescented in a pleased smile. Next to it is a chibi style, forward facing doodle of Xie Lian happily squishing Hua Cheng’s cheeks. Hua Cheng is, again, laying on his back, face up, with his hands resting on his chest. His smile is squished, and his one visible eye pleased.

The final colored one is more darkly lit. Xie Lian is seen from the back, sitting cross legged on a cushion at a low-risen table, one hand holding a ink brush up aloft. He’s position as if he’s looking down at what he’s working on. He is wearing a red robe. Hua Cheng (ghost form) has his lower body sprawled across XL’s legs, curling onto his side to wrap is arms around XL’s waist. Hua Cheng’s expression is hidden, as he has his head laid on a cushion in the floor, his hair sprawled messily over the cushion. His fingers are lightly folded over each other on Xie Lian’s side. He is wearing a white robe. The mood is like it’s a late night in their room, only lit by a single candle hidden behind Xie Lian’s form, implied only by a soft yellow light outlining XL. /.End ID

Sorry this is so long, it’s my first time writing an image description gjsjgks

[janovavalen]

his beauty .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗ aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen reader

summary: the houses grace has fallen victim to her uncle; the one who’s shunned and discriminated along the house, only for her to feel the same, leaving them to fix and ruin each other.

warnings: cursing, drinking (drunk aegon obvi), casual targaryen incest, hidden love, slight angst and very slight smut (not even smut fr)

words; 6.8k

based on this request

at the mid of day, the two houses; green and black, decided it was high time for them to all get together and celebrate the marriage of dameon and rhaenyra. her father; viserys, wanted him to be home with her either way without simply asking her to be with them all.

her family; y/n daughter of rhaenyra and daemon, jacaerys, and lucerys had all come together in unison. standing in the throne room next to his slightly shorter brother and his younger sister who paid absolutely no mind the what was going on around her.

his mother and father standing beside one another with his mothers hands in front of her and his father looking joyfully around and waiting.

‘oh Gods, how much longer shall this go on? my legs are tired and i am hungry’ aegon groaned while his mother shot a sharp look at him and aemond rolling his eyes and looking down and over at helaena who look only briefly then back at her own world.

‘shouldn’t be much longer, aegon. they aren’t that far from us anyway’ his father mumbled, not really wanting to reply but not wanting to leave a open space with his sons rudeness to fill the room.

aegon only agreed to coming mainly because his niece: y/n, would be accompanying the family. he and y/n were the only two in the family who got along without a fuss. he found it harder to grow fond of his nephews; her brothers.

nothing wrong with them apart from the obvious factor that they were basterds along the family, their dark hair and eyes that didn’t match anyone’s. y/n however took apart from her mother and grandmother; his fathers late wife.

her hair long and white, eyes light blue. her nose sharp, and face defined. even as a babe they were unable to tell who’d she’d came out of; rhaenyra her mother or her grandmother who’d already passed years before.

just as aegon started to wonder how she’d look, not at the age of fifteen , himself nineteen, the doors opened to show the family wearing black; dressed formally.

aegon couldn’t help but looks around only to see who’d he been looking for, y/n walking hand in hand with her mother who’d also held hands with her younger son lucaerys.

he almost felt his heart racing at the sight of her a bit taller, almost shoulder to shoulder with her mother but not quit. she was visibly taller than her younger brother. daemon walking not too far behind, right behind y/n actually.

‘my daughter has arrived!’ his father yelled happily, he began to struggle but still made his way over to meet rhaenyra half way who smiled warmly and hugged her father—‘and my granddaughter y/n’ he sighed, looking down at her while holding his hands over her slightly chubby cheeks, she still had yet to fill her face, but she still showed signs of maturity.

‘hello grandfather’ she spoke, her voice soft and almost fragile. from what he was told; she was anything but, she put a face for the audience and showed herself only for her family, she was labeled among the family but admired and favored among the people.

a beauty, a treasure, a true princess, she would be called throughout the streets, house and sometimes the maids. aegon never paid close attention to when they would whisper and gossip about himself but he always paid attention to every detail about her.

he noticed how her hair was curly and perfectly laid out behind her back, some strands of hair breaking free and tossed over her head.

‘what a beautiful face she has’ he heard a maid gasp while the other next to her agreed immediately with a nod and an adoring smile. aegon of course agreed.

‘well let’s not hold any more time, come! i have a day planned for you all, and something special for you, y/n.’ he let her grab his hand as the two walked off, alicent looking at her kids as a way of saying let’s go, which they were quick to follow, aemond walking next to aegon and helaena a bit off but next to her mother who’d slowed down her walking speed to match hers.

aegon watched as y/n and his father talked, she’d laugh loudly and lean into him as he smiled warmly along with rhaenyra who’d watched her the whole time, she’d occasionally look back to her other sons who walked a bit ahead of aegon and aemond.

‘they’re growing fine’ rhaenyra commented, talking about her younger brothers.

‘ah, yes. the tow doing well, aemond is a very well swordsman, taking after his father’ he jokes leaving rhaenyra to smile—‘helaena, bless her heart, very good at knitting however, makes fine pieces.’ he told as rhaenyra turned to look at the bunch along with y/n, aegon couldn’t help but make eye contact with her as she smiled at him, he free hand lifting to wave at him.

he didn’t know why or what possessed him to do so, but he gave a hidden wave back, rhaenyra unnoticed, but y/n grew warm at him doing so and turned her head immediately.

he felt himself smile and cleared his throat to fix his stature.

he noticed when his father got to talking about him however, was when it was whispers and mumbled, rhaenyra nodding and not paying any mind but his mother turned to him in distaste. he wanted so badly to throw himself from the open window next to the bunch or even drown himself in wine, he hopped he’d get to at least pleasure himself in that.

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sitting in the upper parts of a stone balcony, they all observed and watched the dewling going on below, crowds cheering and clapping for the people in battle with each other, and the family above sitting and watching.

aegon gotten lucky and had a cup filled to the brim with wine, he sipped it every now and again, on a regular—he’d rather down the whole cup and get more, but something in him made him want to hold some sort of decency in front of y/n who sat right next to him. her hands held one another as she almost looked like a statue in a garden.

she looked starlight forward and watched the dewl, her eyes following the people as they crossed and hit each other. did she like the fighting? did she like chaos? did she like the noise and angry men as they threw cups of wine and whatever they had in their hands out of anger when someone, they bet on lost.

he wondered to himself. his eyes moving up and down her body while he watched. the real show seemed to be next to him.

‘are you having fun?’ he heard. looking up to see y/n looking over at him with full eyes of wonder, he cleared his throat and set the cup down next to him, not without gulping some down of course .

‘yes of course, are you not?’ he asked her back, she smiled and shook her head slightly. he was a bit shocked of her giving him honestly but he was happy she didn’t feel the need to lie.

‘i’d much rather be in it, i wonder how it is, how it feels. have you dewled before?’ he was shocked, she’d want to fight with a man? and most likely her life on the line?

‘i have not, why would you want to be in it? i heard women often don’t like things like this?’ he wondered, looking at her as she hummed.

‘hm, i don’t know. it looks fun, right?’ she asked while looking at him once more then back at the fight below. he hummed back to agree but knew he’d agree with anything she said.

‘i could help you have more fun, would you want that?’ he leaned into her so he was closer, smelling the bath soap and perfumes she had still tangled in her hair and skin. she turned to him immediately, their noses almost touching each other as she looked into his eyes.

smiling she went to speak back into his ear—‘how about you leave first and i’ll follow’ she mumbled, making sure her mother and father didn’t hear. he smiled daringly and cleared his throat.

her voice ringing through his head and bouncing off the walls of his mind, a slight chill and tingly running through his body.

‘father; i wish to go to the library, i have things to attend’ he asked but somewhat stated. his father and rhaenyra looked at him as she looked at their father, he nodded with a dismissive hand and his mother scoffed—‘what things? you have nothing to do—‘

‘let him go, alicent. if the boy doesn’t wish to stay then he shouldn’t’ he mumbled to his mother who looked at him one last time before turning back to the entertainment. he felt risky and let his hand entangle itself with some of y/n’s hair before he walked past her.

she smiled and cleared her throat waiting for a bit before asking—‘may i find something to eat? i haven’t eaten since we left—‘

‘oh, my dear, i can have something brought to you—layla!—‘

‘no no, grandfather, i can find something it’s alright, mother?’ rhaenyra looked at her daughter a bit worried to let her leave but mumbled—‘very well, be back soon, don’t eat too much, dinner will be ready’ y/n smiled and kissed her mothers cheek along with her fathers who smiled, going over to her grandfather and giving him a kiss as well and as for alicent a bow.

the bunch watched as she left and sighed—‘she is your mothers image, and your daughter.’ viserys mumbled to rhaenyra who smiled and nodded in agreement.

‘yes, i’ve been told by many that she might even be my sister rather than my daughter’ she smiled while her father laughed—‘i can see the confusion, and her hair—‘

‘i know, it’s beautiful’ rhaenyra said. they were both gushing about how perfect she was and how much she will and is loved amongst the world, the beauty and grace lifted many.

alicent however, grumbled every time she heard her husband gush over a daughter that isn’t his, she wondered why he couldn’t say things like that for his own daughter or better yet his sons.

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as aegon walked and looked behind him every now and again, he opened the great doors to the library, a table set in the middle of the stone flooring room and books filling the walls. aegon never liked reading, he found it time consuming and a waste of his precious time when he would rather be out and about living how he wanted instead of being forced to please the court and his parents.

the soft sounds of his shoes echoing through the room. where was she? did she set him up to look like an idiot? why was he so quick to go with her word and fail to think of his own actions?

just as he started to doubt her was when he’d heard the door open, turning quickly to see y/n. her hand on the door and the other by her side.

‘sorry for the wait; i had to stop by the kitchen, make the lie believable,’ she joked while looking around in awe.

‘so this is your library’ she gasped, he smiled at her wide eyes—‘yes, not much to gape over’ she shook her head and made sure the door fully shut behind him—‘what were you thinking of fun always? it’s hard to entertain me, i must warn you. the wet nurses say i didn’t smile until the age of five.’ she told him with a warm smile of her own.

he believed what she had to say without a second thought, imagining her as a babe, straight face and eyes wide.

‘i could only imagine, i heard i didn’t stop crying and begging for attention’ walking over to her as she opened a few books and put them back on the shelves.

‘i believe it’ he snorted as he gasped, his jaw dropped while she laughed, leaning into his chest and inhaling deeply for the air she’d lost while laughing—‘i jest!’ she prompted, walking to the other side only for him to follow.

‘what is your fascination with books anyway? most your age take favor in dresses and hair i hear?’ besides his sister who took favor in bugs and her time alone.

‘mm, i enjoy that too, what makes you think otherwise?’ she wonders, the book in the hand now on the table.

‘just a little ago you mentioned how you liked the fighting, most don’t take favor in that.’ aegon commented and recollected. y/n shrugged and smiled.

‘i enjoy things that catch my attention. most of my favors come from my father, he taught me things. things some girls my age wouldn’t enjoy…how could i not?’ she looked at him as if she were questioning him.

he shook his head a bit, lost in her lips…plump and red. she smiled and looked down at the floor before speaking—‘i have an idea of fun, since you don’t.’ she joked as he turned an eyebrow out of curiosity and followed as she led him out of the room.

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being led down to the outside of the house, his hand in hers that gotten entangled with hers back in the halls, apparently he was walking too slow and she wanted him to catch up so she took his hand in her own.

her skin was soft and warm to the touch, the warmth complimented his cold ones.

seeing the dragons as they stretched their necks and roared he stumbled back a bit—‘wait, we aren’t possibly riding them are we?’ he mumbled as she looked at him her eyes wide—‘of course we are! or is that too much for a fair prince as yourself?’ she walked almost chest to chest with him as he scoffed.

of course it was! at the moment anyway, he didn’t have a problem with them only that he’d never ridden one for himself, he had one himself but he barely knew it nore did anything with it, he didn’t have the time or interest either.

‘of course not, why would it be? dragon back riding is popular throughout the family anyway’ he said as she pulled him to her dragon. it looks deadly, big for its age, he wondered how much bigger it would get.

it’s scales white and spikes sharp, it almost matched herself.

‘this is smaug, he is sweet, don’t worry about him too much it would hurt your pretty head’ she jokes once again—‘i should say that to you’ he mumbled.

she smiled before barking a loud laugh, her dragon shaking its head as it prepared itself for her to mount him—‘come along prince aegon!’ she yelled, looking at the dragon as it squinted its eyes at him.

‘i don’t think smaug likes me very much princess!’ he yelled back as she stroked the dragon's neck—‘don’t be shy, he doesn’t bite unless told!’ she yelled back.

the height of the two now great, causing them not to hear each other if they spoke regularly.

aegon silently gulped before walking to the side of her dragon, it was still before it suddenly jumped at him with a snap of its jaw making him yelp, she laughed heartily as her dragon seemed to do the same.

‘he jests! come on now!’ he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.

finally getting to the back of y/n who smiled, her hair not tied back so it would be out of her hair—‘are you ready my prince?’ she asked with a hint of something he couldn’t recognize in her voice—‘only if you my princess’ grinning to her while his eyes trained to her lips and to her eyes, she grinned and turned around.

‘sōvēs!’ she shouted and just on command her dragon lifted, its wings flapping loudly and slowly around the two, his hand gripped each side of her waist as she paid no mind, his chest close to her back.

‘let’s not go far yes? we have to attend dinner soon!’ she yelled while he nodded, the two high in the air and his house looking like nothing but a small smudge surrounded by water, the foggy clouds all around consuming his sight.

the didn’t fail to notice the way she’d let go of the holsters that she was once holding—‘shouldn’t you be holding them?’ he wondered, his voice a bit quiet since he’d placed his head next to hers, close to her ear.

‘no, not now anyway, we’re mearley gliding along the sky, do you take hold of yours?’ she asked; turning her head a bit so that their eyes matched one another and her nose almost touching his, he was beyond tempted to close the space between them. her lips almost close to his but…he couldn’t.

‘no i don’t! why would you think that?’ he mumbled, he didn’t cent ride his dragon.

‘you wouldn’t know then’ she teased, turning back around as the two focused on the picture in front of them, his eyes making their way to her every now and again

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as the two did their finish with dragon back riding, y/n kai fed gracefully and cleaned her clothes, patting them down and turning around to do the same for aegon who let her touch him, his chest and face and hair, making his hair calm from its once wild state from the wind.

‘let’s hurry, we mustn’t be late, anything will make my mother worry’ she spoke while turning and walking quickly, her hands fixing her hair and face.

‘yes, let us hurry then.’ he mumbled. wishing they had more time to spend with just each other. he loved her company and wished to have more of it.

the two of them making way inside and closing the door, she breathed heavily and soon calmly, her once rushed state appearing as though she was calm the whole time. her hair in the back however—‘wait’ he rushed.

reaching for her hand and causing her to turn around as she looked between his eyes—‘what?’she mumbled.

turning her around so that he could comb his fingers through her hair and tame it, she smiled to herself before he mumbled—‘okay’.

turning she looked between his eyes once more, her hand finding way to his own hair to fix it once more, their close proximity intoxicated his sense. he could practically taste her on his tongue.

she leaned in a bit closer causing his heart to speed up, he could have sworn he’d die right here in from of her. she let her lips slowly part and lean in, him meeting her half way. inhaling sharply as he kissing her with urgency.

her hands hand the side of his neck as he heard her hum. pulling apart and making sure not to get carried away, she shuddered a breath before smiling—‘i’ll go first, you follow soon.’ she instructed. he nodded in a daze, still lost at the thought of his lips on hers.

her half slipping from him and walking away. her appearance causing his father and her mother to sigh with relief.

‘darling girl, where have you been? we’ve looked all over’ she rushed, her hands on the side of her daughters face who shrugged and held her hands over her moms.

‘i was in the chambers, i ate too much and had to sleep’ she shrugged while her mother hummed and smiled, leaning in and kiss her cheek only to get a faint scent—‘oh dragon back?’ she mumbled leaving her daughter to only look to the side and smile.

rhaenyra turned to her father who smiled and grabbed ahold of y/n’s arm—‘come, you shall sit here’ he instructed, she did as told and occasionally looked to where aegon was only for him to make his appearance—‘aegon!’ his mother yelled.

walking over to him, her hand made its way to his bicep, gripping it—‘what have you been doing? drinking i hope not—‘ she harshly asked.

‘no, i was in the library—‘

‘they checked and you weren’t, you reek of dragon, where were you?’ she asked lowkey once more, he looked up and looked back and over to y/n who bit her bottom lip—‘alone…i was alone mother.’ he mumbled. she grumbled before letting go of him.

‘go sit.’ she instructed leaving him to do as told. he sat across from y/n who smiled at him with pity.

he wished she didn’t hear what she said, or he’d be entirely embarrassed.

‘now that we were back together; let’s eat.’ viserys told them all with a smile as daemon sat next to rhaenyra, y/n in the middle of her brothers. aegon; next to his mother,his siblings next to him in order.

he sneakily grabbed a cup of wine and drank some of it as y/n supper her juice.

they talked amongst themselves, only for aegon to grow confident. his leg lifted and licked y/n’s who looked up immediately and jumped a bit but grinned—she did the same as he laughed.

the town of them laughing and growing a bit of attention from her brothers—‘what are you doing?’ jacaerys mumbled, looking at her as she cleared her throat.

‘nothing brother’ she mumbled. aemond however seemed to know but chose not to comment, he’d rather not start any unwanted and unnecessary attention.

the dinner went on longer than usual, but it was worth his time when y/n would look at him and smile.

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later in his chambers, he sat in his bed with his new bed clothes on, his hair slightly damp from the bath he took a bit ago.

laying in bed to remember what happened earlier and who was there with him, he felt his body grow warm, shifting over to one side of him and the other he was restless.

the memory of her lips on his, the slight pudge to her waist that was squeezed between his fingers and through her dress. his chest became hollow as it grew and shrunk. his heart racing.

he let his hand gradually lift from where it was and slowly making its way down his chest, teasing himself to move further down, and down.

finely where he needed it—his hand slipped through the pants and only his warmth. it in pain, and throbbing.

making a small noise as he strayed to work itself—the thought of y/n on his mind, her eyes, full and wonder and life. her cheeks, plush and chubby, her lips, plump and warm. her taste, sweet and savory. his mouth opened in pleasure as he felt himself getting closer only to hear a knock.

jumping up and whipping his hand on his sheets, upset with the release he begged for now gone—‘yes? how is it?’ he grumbled—‘y/n’ the voice spoke. his eyes wide, he got up and ran over to the door.

opening it in a hurry to see y/n in her nightgown, with her hair done and curly, set back behind her shoulders—‘what are you doing here—come in, hurry’ he ushered her, grabbing her with the opposite hand he’d previously used.

‘i couldn’t sleep, and i wondered if you’d want to talk more? i enjoy your presence and…if not that okay—‘

‘no ko, stay, please. i’m okay with it. i enjoy yours as well’ he muttered. trying to keep it quiet. she smiled sweetly while looking up at him through her thick lashes. she looks beautiful. the look of ready for bed making him feel something, the pain making its way down to his core—but ignoring it as much as he could, he couldn’t do that with her. not now, possibly never. he’d ruin her and the future she had…the future without him.

his heart stinging him with the thought of her being with another and not him.

‘what is it you wish is talk about princess?’ he muttered as he watched her walk over to a chair next to the fire that was cracking in the open space.

‘anything, about you.’ she muttered. he felt his breath hitch as she turned to him, her open shoulder glistening in the warm light next to her—‘what about me?’

he muttered as she shrugged, sitting down and ushering him over with a finger. he followed immediately, sitting in the chair across from her.

‘anything, what is it you enjoy, dislike?’ she asked. her leg crossing one another. he couldn’t believe who he was talking to especially for her age, pure fifteen, and speaking as though she was as old as her mother.

‘i enjoy everything, drinking, sleeping—‘

‘sex?’ she muttered, he looked up immediately and felt his ears ringing, the growing foggy and core warm.

she smiled and laughed a bit—‘the maids, have been warning me of you, saying your unpure and could ruin anything you touch…i beg to differ’ she revealed.

he cleared his throat at knowing his maids have caught him in the act more than once, especially with another, he tried to hide it but they always saw and found out. knowing he couldn’t change what they said he rolled his eyes and focused on the fire, embarrassed.

‘believe what you want…i’m not perfect. not like i’m supposed to be.’ he muttered. she felt her smile drop while looking at him and she felt a sort of ping in her heart.

‘how do you feel about that?’ she wondered. aegon turned to look at her as she sat across from him, not too far. he shrugged and slapped a fake smile on his face—‘i don’t care…can’t do anything about it anyway.’

she rolled her eyes and got up, moving over to him so that her stomach met his face, he turned and looked up at her through his eyelashes—‘you don’t have to feel anything about what they say. what matters is what you think of you, aegon.’ she told. her voice was low, and stern.

he wondered if she heard something about herself, he felt his chin quiver as she let him lean his head against her stomach, he hand combing through his hair—‘it’s okay.’ she whispered.

this is all he wanted, from his mother. reassurance, and love, and affection. his arms making way up to her back and holding her body close to his face as he breathed in her scent. she let him pull apart to look up at her as she blinking slowly.

the urge running over her as she leaned down and took his lips in hers in a hurry causing him to follow, the urgency in which making it sloppy but the kiss addictive. slightly moaning in her mouth as she swallowed his sounds, he and her shared the harsh kiss of desperation.

the kiss hitting her core harder making her make a noise in his mouth, his eyebrows frowning, standing up with his body pressed against hers, he held the back of her head as his other hand held the side of her face.

she let her hand expire his chest and toned stomach causing him to pull apart—‘no, stop…’ he whispered, she frowned and kissing him once more leaving him to do the same with addiction, forcing himself to pull apart—‘y/n—‘

‘why not?’

‘we cannot, your pure, young, untuned…i cannot ruin you—‘

‘i am not young, you cannot, you won’t, please aegon—‘ he struggled to stay away, his hands gravitated to her as if she were the only thing in distance, to him he was, he felt how her body pressed against his, her growing breasts fleshed against his chest, groaning he missing her harder until he shook his head.

he couldn’t do this to her, he wouldn’t, he himself the beast, out to kill, ruin and consume all things beautiful and pure. stopping her by placing his hands on both sides of his face, she whined a bit and half his hands—‘aegon…’

‘leave now, before i make a terrible mistake.’

‘you won’t, in asking you—i need you—‘

‘no, y/n. leave now…please, please, leave now.’ he begged. she looked at him without anger but hesitated to leave, biting her swelling lips as he watched her leave silently. his heart racing, and aching.

he knew he’d done the right thing. and he hated himself for it.

that following day, they were set to leave back home; aegon however, didn’t show up for goodbyes. y/n, hunted by this, and the memory of the night before.

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years later, in the bed of his room aegon now taller and a bit more fit, his hair short to his shoulders. his body bare from the night before with a random who’d left that same night.

groaning as he turned around and slept peacefully, his mother barging into his room with her gown and presence done—‘aegon…aegon!’ she yelled, he groaned and turned with a fuss—‘what is it?’ he muttered.

she scoffed and spoke—‘we have guest, you are to be ready. now.’ she sternly told him. groaning again while he sat up, she watched as he held his white sheet in front of his naked body, cringing.

‘okay, who is it?’ he asked about the people who’d be showing up so he knew if he needed to be sober or not—‘rhaenyra and her family, hurry, your father said they should be here soon.’ she muttered, making her way out only for him to hear the key words rhaenyra and her family, meaning rhaenyra and her daughter, shooting up to call the maids to get him ready.

was she really going to be there? y/n, seeing her for the first time in years. how would she think of him now? remembering the night he made her leave his chambers. sad and alone. and not saying goodbye to her.

he felt his heart racing with worry. the maids getting him ready by combing out his tangled hair.

making his way down to the main room where his brother, now taller than him and a eyepatch on his face, his hair sleek and long beside his wife, helaena who touched and played with her fingers. people; guards and maids, arranged in their spots, his grandfather and mother standing side by side.

‘i figured you’d want to be here…’ his brother muttered while aegon rolled his eyes at his brother—‘and of course you are, always aiming to please’ he rolled his eyes while aemond ignored him, his straight back turned to the doors.

the doors soon, opening quickly as the people spoke to announce their arrival, rhaenyra and daemon standing next to each other as their children followed—y/n, behind her mother.

and Gods, did she look magnificent. her hair straight and long, braided and some out. her clothes black and matching her mothers, her brothers with their dark brown hair and red mixed with black outsides.

daemon wore black as well with his hair out, on the sides of his head. aegon couldn’t help but let his gaze set focus on y/n who paid him no mind, his heart rate picking up and hurting him almost, he almost forgot what it felt to see it. to even be in the same room as her.

‘alicent, where is my father?’ rhaenyra muttered while she got closer to him, the very visible stench in front of her, filled with child.

‘he is in his chambers, he’d been finding it more difficult to rise, i urge you to let him rest.’ she told them, her authority falling through her voice.

aegon blocked out half of what was being said, his focus on y/n who turned to look him up and down before she faced forward once more. his heart dropped. did what they share years ago mean nothing, did the whole feelings be one sided?

he felt embarrassed, like an idiot, ignored by the one person he couldn’t stand it from. his hands clutched around one another while he felt his face grow red.

he watched as they walked away and past them, y/n keeping her face forward and not meeting his eyes of which he desperately wanted them too.

‘looks as though your disappointment is prominent, who were you expecting? a whore?’ his brother muttered before walking away with his wife and mother. aegon bit his lip and cleared his throat before walking away with him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

his mind had been filled with the way y/n had grown physically; and apparently mentally about the way she ignored his very being. did the decision he made years ago affect how she feels for him today?

his heart was aching and he needed to talk to her, he needed to hear her, feel her, taste her.

sitting at the dinner table as they all ate and laughed, he felt his eyes training against y/n whose lips were unmoving, only to open and close when she ate. she seemed to lose the smile she wore years ago.

her eyes lidded a bit as if the life it was filled with had died. she drank slowly and cleared her throat—‘i will go to my chambers mother.’ he muttered as rhaenyra nodded and kissed her cheek, y/n doing the same. as she dusted off her outside had stood to leave.

be said some bullshit lie to his mother about how he’d felt ill and left without hearing her protest. going down the hall to see it was empty and turning to the other to see y/n walking into her chambers he walked quick, looking behind him to make sure nobody saw—knocking on the door—‘y/n?’ he muttered, his head a bit fuzzy with the wine he’d drank but not enough to stop him from thinning completely.

‘who is it?’ she asked through the door—‘aegon…’ he mumbled. the door opened in a hurry as she looked at him.

he felt stupid, helpless and embarrassed. standing in front of her door as if he were a beggar asking for food. in a sense he was a beggar, begging for her attention.

‘what is it—‘

‘please, let me talk to you…please.’ he muttered as she looked down and peeked her head out to then pull him in and shirt the door quietly.

looking around at the room she’d had he tried not to think of the fact this was his old room, where’d they’d kissed.

‘speak…’ she muttered , her distance far from him as he awkwardly touching his hands and picked at his skin.

‘i…you, look beautiful.’ he told her dumbly, a small smile set on his lips. she couldn’t help but feel her heart skip and race a bit while her eyebrows lifted.

‘thank you. you; betterment.’ she told him, giving him a small smile to himself. he felt his heart skip at this but knew it didn’t match the one tara ago.

‘i want to, apologize —‘

‘don’t, i don't need it—‘

‘but i need to, i want to. please…’ he begged her to hear him, she looked him up and down at his new form and folded her arms—‘okay…’ she muttered.

looking at the chairs next to the fire, he pointed—‘please, let’s sit?’ he asked her she sighed and followed him, sitting in the chair she sat in years ago, her legs crossed over one another as he sat in the one across.

‘i just, i’m so sorry. those years ago. then i forced you to leave, believe me i wanted the same, i craved your touch, your heart…but i couldn’t, i couldn’t ruin you. for your future, your legacy—‘

‘but you wouldn’t have…aegon. i came to you, i asked you, i neeed you. and when you pushed me away…i didn’t know how to feel, i didn’t know if it were one sided or not—‘

‘it was not, it is not!’ he corrected, feeling so far from her, he got up and kneeled in front of her, she looked down at him with sorrow as she felt bad for his current state, his eyes glazed over with tears and desperate for her to understand.

‘aegon—‘

‘no, y/n i have never felt this way, i will never fill this way unless with you…you, are the one thing i can feel around, you…are everything. years back—i knew i wanted you but i couldn’t have you. you are pure, and perfect. carved for the world to admire and witness, the life you need, and the life you deserve. apart from me who will ruin and destroy you, i cannot give you what you need—‘

‘all i wanted was your love…you, aegon, are all i need, all i want—‘ before she could get anything else out he leaned up and pressed his lips along hers, his kiss desperate and hungry, hers following in sync.

the tow of them kissed each other harder and harder, the years of longing for each other hurtling towards the kiss and the love they shared for each other shared.

her hand held his that rested on the sides of her now shaped and defined face, he moved his hands pulled her up but her waist, walking her over to the bed. sitting on it as she climbed onto his lap, the two of them kissing each other and y/n moving her waist along his, causing him to groan.

the more they kissed the more they craved, and she knew she had to wait—pulling apart to rest her head against his, their noses touching, he smiled warmly as she did the same.

she pressed her hands on his chest and pushed him back a bit, slowly laying down on his back as she laid on his front body, her arms crossed and folded along his chest.

the two studied their new bodies as they admired one another’s face—‘i am to marry.’ she muttered in a bit or sadness.

he felt his heart ping—‘to whom?’ he asked. gods, he hated this feeling; the feeling of helplessness. she would marry someone who wasn’t him—now of age, he wished he’d be able to be some sort of interest to her mother.

‘i don’t know. mother and father have been looking, for the perfect man…’ she looked between his eyes with longing. he looked at her as well before she pushed herself up and pressed her lips along his once more.

humming into her mouth as he thought of something he pulled apart—‘marry me…’ he muttered. she opened her eyes and looked at him with wide eyes—‘us?’

‘why not? i am to marry soon, you are now, us marrying one another will bring out houses together, us, growing together, to have babes—heirs to the throne, you queen, me—‘

‘my king’ she smiled as her lips hovered over his, kissing him once more with amazement at the new thought of him as her husband.

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the next day, aegon told y/n she’d talk to her mother. she said it would be preferable over her father, if he talked to him, he’d die.

knocking on her chambers she spoke—‘come in’. walking in to see rhaenyra, his older sister standing at the table, her hand on her stomach—‘oh, aegon.’ she stood straighter, a part of her expecting her daughter.

‘yes, i’ve come to speak with you, on important matters.’ he was beyond scared right now. she was a bit worried, siting down at the chair near the table as he followed.

‘yes what is it?’ looking at him in the eyes, he found it intriguing that her and y/n shared the same stern expression and voice.

‘i am to marry soon…’ he muttered

‘so is y/n—‘

‘wed her to me…please.’ he asked, begging. he could tell she was scared—‘what?’ she asked.

‘wed her to me, and i will give her everything she needs, everything she deserves and desires, i will give you heirs to the throne and i will stay out of your way…just. please, i love her.’ he begged and explained. rhaenyra, fiddled with her fingers at the thought but tried to think and push aside what she’d heard about him.

humming she looked at the floor then up—‘okay…’ she muttered he thought he heard her wrong.

‘i’m sorry?—‘

‘you shall marry her, and you will do nothing to hurt her. if i hear or see anything, i will have you killed and eaten by the dragons—‘

‘i understand, i understand. thank you—thank you sister—rhaenyra.’ be corrected as she threatened him but sat straight.

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walking to the chambers y/n stayed in her immediately went into her arms and kissed her deeply—‘did she say yes? huh?’ she asked urgently, he nodded as she smiled widely, kissing him deeply once more.

the two stayed tangled in one another.

their wedding not to long after the betrothal, and they were successful in having four children, three boys and one girl.

[lxndonorris]

kisses and stubbles - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Smutish, Teasing, Touching prompt: "why are you looking at me like that? Are you planning to kiss me?" You're with Lando before qualifying begins, and he won't stop teasing you x word count: 1500+

It's always a pleasure to accompany Lando, your boyfriend, during race weekends, especially after he's been performing very well. This year has been a steady up and down, like an actual rollercoaster, but for a few races now, the Mclaren is pretty competitive, leading to more and more podiums for both Lando and his teammate Oscar.

Right now, it's Friday, testing day, and you're sitting inside Lando's private motorhome, a place you've learned to appreciate. You're wearing your boyfriend's merchandise—actually, his worn clothes; they're a bit too large for you, but you don't mind. After all, he loves you in those clothes.

With a coy smile, you're watching him put his racing gear on. One leg at a time, he slides into the lower half of the fireproofs. Its fabric flatters his body perfectly—tight yet flexible.

Lando's back is turned toward you, exposing his firm back, with all of its muscles tensing more and more. He runs both of his hands along his thighs, down to his toes, as he bends down. It is not only an easy exercise to stretch, preparing his body for the upcoming session, but also an excellent way to show off his beautiful physique.

Without turning around and looking at you, he knows that you're enjoying the show. Licking your lips, you watch him grab the upper half of his undergarments. In one swift movement, he slips inside it and adjusts himself and his body to the tight fabric.

You stare, transfixed, as he lunges, stretching his legs, his arms, and his back. He grunts barely, and as he exhales, he lets out a long sigh.

Before putting on his racing suit, however, he runs both of his hands across his entire body, including his chest, arms, thighs, and waist. Lando purrs happily as he touches himself gently. A shy smirk forms in the corner of your lips as you hold back a soft, breathless giggle. However, it seems like he might have heard you.

Letting out a low grunt, Lando turns around, running both of his hands across his firm chest. Again, on the one hand, it's to simply straighten his clothes, but he wouldn't deny teasing you at the same time.

With one eyebrow raised, he studies you. With the feeling of his burning gaze on your skin, you shudder, but try to keep a straight face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He bites his lower lip and subconsciously brushes over his crotch with one of his hands, while the other strokes his chest again and again.

Blushing slightly, you just admire his well-formed body and that he is willingly showing off again. Your eyes wander across his chest—his abs are slightly visible through the white fabric, as are his pecs and nipples—down to his thighs and right back to his gorgeous face.

Lando tilts his head slightly, still waiting for the answer he already knows. He's still trying to read you, knowing very well the effect that wearing his racing gear has on you.

"Why? Can't I look at my beautiful man?" You smirk, crossing your arms in front of your chest as your entire body starts to heat up.

He runs a hand through his hair and lets his eyes wander all over your body again, looking for anything that could give you away.

There is that special kind of tingling spreading through your chest. Any time he looks at you like that, it feels like your heart is accelerating at an immense speed, and your breath is barely able to keep up.

Mirroring you, he crosses his arms as well. Your eyes can't help straying to the strong flex of his biceps straining under the sleeves of his shirt before you pull away, meeting his gaze once more.

"I guess that's fair." He growls, but there is that spark hidden beneath his beautiful eyes that you know all too well. Your face heats as you imagine him pressing his bare chest against yours every time you lie in bed with one another.

Lando opens his mouth slightly and approaches you. When he stands right in front of you, he bends down so that your faces are just inches apart.

"I was just wondering." He lets out a guttural growl. "Are you planning to kiss me, or what?"

As he breathes into your mouth, your face flushes with color, and you feel drawn toward him, drawn to his soft lips. Your lips meet, and it's giving you goosebumps right away.

It's a mixture of his familiar sweet scent, the feeling of his soft lips on yours, and the excitement of being here in the paddock with him. Enjoying his light stubble as well, a smile forms on your lips.

You steady yourself against his firm chest and feel his firm body through the thin fabric of his clothes. Your thumb brushes over his nipple, causing him to take a deep breath before purring right into your mouth.

Once, then twice, you kiss him back, craving much more, but yet he pulls away.

"Mhmmm." He growls, one hand on his chest, the other gently on your thighs.

"That felt good." You smile shyly, feeling his hand gently pet your thighs.

"Just give me a moment." He smiles warmly. "Let me put on that suit, and we can go for another."

Leaning in, he breathes down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Many more."

Straightening your back, you take in a deep breath, enjyoing the scent of his cologne tingling in your nose.

With anticipation building up inside your chest, you watch him put on his racing suit. He looks so good in his racing gear, and he knows it.

His suit is still unzipped, exposing the dark fireproofs underenath, but he turns his attention back toward you and sits down right next to you on the sofa.

Lando puts his arm around you, pulling you into him. You can feel the heat radiating from his body through his clothes, and right away, you let one of your hands slide inside his open suit, stroking his firm chest once more.

Enjoying this, he tilts his head again, biting his lower lip.

"I'm glad you could come this weekend." He growls and lets his fingers run down your arm, and even though his fingertips just barely brush over your skin, it feels so good.

"Me too." You say it softly and lean into him again.

His intense gaze ignites a spark in you. You can't explain it, but you know you want more. Lando's entire body is drawing you in, and it doesn't take long for you to give in to the tug.

Right away, he embraces your lips on his own, and as he opens his mouth to let out a soft moan, he breathes right down your throat. Waves of shivers run down your entire back, and you give in to him.

With a little help from him, you climb on top of him. He holds you close with both of his hands on your waist while you steady yourself against his strong chest.

Using both of your hands, you touch him and feel all of his muscles tense more and more, causing Lando to turn his head slightly to catch his breath.

"Y/N." He moans audibly and starts to stroke the small of your back, feeling your hands run down his chest, further down inside his suit.

Bending his back, he tries to make room for his ever-growing excitement inside his trousers.

"Lando. Fuck." You breathe deeply.

As you grind on him, he easily matches your pace and intensity. With one hand still inside his suit, stroking his chest and focusing on his pecs and nipples, you let the other hand slide right between the two of you, feeling a tent building up underneath his clothes.

Lando chuckles a low, husky sound that echoes through every fiber of your body, sending heat flaring in

your belly. His hips roll against your own as he adjusts to the rhythm of your hand now stroking his bulge through his suit.

"Mhmm." Drawing an unsteady breath, you lean closer to him, fitting the curves of your body against his.

You can feel the shudder of his own breath speeding up and the tightening of his body against yours as he desires you so much more.

"Fuck." He growls, leaning his head back against the sofa, giving in to your firm touch.

You begin to place kisses all over his neck and his jaw, enjoying how his light stubble tingles your skin.

Then, however, the alarm on his phone goes off, catching both of you off guard.

You pull away to let him check his phone, and with a huge sigh, he shows you the screen. It's time for them to join the others inside the Mclaren garage; it's training day after all.

"Two more minutes." You pout, and a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"Two more minutes." He growls and leans in to you, kissing you again.

---