#i still love the very last shot though it fills me with so much hope and triumph

[funforahermit]

isn't it so bloody cruel how the end of episode 10 is edited, like you have stede finally coming around to realising what he's supposed to do, and the very next moment we see ed giving up all hope.

[always-just-red]

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader, some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a—”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, ok? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, ok?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you ok?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, ok? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.  

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, ok?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

[wolverigrl]

The Beauty and the Beast

Logan Howlett x Reader!mutant!

Soo I've decided to try out writing one shots again. The last time I did that.. oh hell.. definitely some years ago. So please don't judge if it's not a masterpiece. I hope you still enjoy this imaginary! <3

Please let me know what you think about it!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, maybe here and there some swearing, but that's all

‐-----------------------------‐-----------------------------‐---------

It was one of those fun evenings that you could only experience if you lived with Wade Wilson. Today, however, was a special occasion: Wade's house party.

The apartment that Y/N shared with Blind Al and him was filled with many different people - friends that Wade had made over the years. And then there was the new roommate, Logan Howlett, who most people only knew as Wolverine. He actually came from a different timeline, but after they both fought Cassandra Nova, Logan was more like stranded in this universe. According to Wade's brief tales, the Wolverine unfortunately had no future in his world, but he did in theirs.

Y/N, unlike Wilson, was a quiet person. One who rarely said much, but always listened and observed. She was the perfect example of still waters run deep. It was this calmness that fascinated Wade from the very beginning when they met in that cruel experimental camp. They both went through hell and became mutants in the end.

Y/N developed the ability to project the pain and feelings of others onto herself or onto others - a power that was both a curse and a blessing. Wade, with his regenerative ability and wacky sense of humor, had quickly become a steady anchor for her. He was her best friend who understood her like no one else. She lost her memory as a result of the human despising experiments, which is why she still doesn't know exactly who she is today.

They had stuck together ever since they had escaped the camp, and Wade never hesitated to make fun of Y/N's quieter ways - in his own affectionate way.

Lately, though, he found a new target for his jokes: Logan and Y/N. It hadn't escaped Wade's notice, nor Blind Al's, that there was an unspoken tension between the two, even though they had barely spoken since Logan moved in.

Y/N had kept an eye on Logan from day one. It was hard not to. He was, after all, an imposing figure - broad shouldered, muscular, with an prominent face and those eyes that always looked a little melancholy, as if they had seen and suffered too much. His kitty cat hair and beard, which Wade loved to make the target of his jokes, gave him an almost animalistic appearance.

Every morning, Logan and y/n met almost simultaneously in the apartment because they had one thing in common. Insomnia. In the kitchen, Logan prepared coffee for both of them, and she made breakfast or dinner in return. They ate together in silence, but they both always looked at each other when the other wasn't looking. If their eyes met, they both gave each other a warm smile. Sometimes, it was irritating for Logan that he was hardly ever grumpy towards her, but he couldn't even help it.

One evening, Y/n came home after a walk. She took her towel and clothes from her room and walked into the bathroom. To her surprise, she saw Logan standing in front of her in just a towel tied around his hips. His hair was wet, just like his upper body. He turned to her and cleared his throat.

"Sorry about that. I'm almost done." He said in his deep voice.

Y/n felt the warmth on her face. There was a lot of humidity and heat in the room, which made it feel harder for her to breathe properly after seeing him like that. Before she nodded and left the room, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander over Logan's body again. She had to admit that she found him incredibly attractive.

But it wasn't just his looks that attracted Y/N; it was the depth that lay within him, a darkness she knew all too well.

Wade noticed those looks from day one and couldn't help but comment on them every time. At breakfast, Y/N sat quietly, absorbed in her thoughts, when Wade came in, tousled her hair, and said, "Good morning, sunshine! Are you dreaming about our hairy roommate again? Tell me, do you prefer him in flannel or without anything?"

Grinning, he put his head on Logan's shoulder, who was looking into the open fridge.

Y/N choked on her coffee and started coughing like mad.

Logan, in return, roughly pulled his shoulder away and tensed his jaw.

"Bub, you really want to go through the void scenario again?" Logan growled, closing the fridge. Wade just laughed out loud and stood behind y/n.

"Oh please, Logan! You know, well, I'm just teasing you." replied Wade, unimpressed. He started massaging y/n's shoulders and added with a wink: "But honestly, y/n why so shy? Don't be so old school and make the first move yourself. I mean, Logan may look like a wild animal, but deep down, he's a cuddly bear."

Blind Al walked by the open kitchen door and just shook her head and mumbled, "One day Logan's really gonna rip his head off, and I'm gonna fucking enjoy it."

That night, while the party was playing at full volume and Wade was getting into over-the-top shenanigans with the guests, Logan suddenly realized that y/n was no longer in the room. He looked around, but it was as if she had vanished into thin air. His eyes wandered to the window front that led to a fire escape. By now, he knew that it was typical for her to hide in places like this when the crowd got too much for her.

Logan pushed his way through the people and stepped out into the cool night. There, on the fire escape, he found y/n. She was sitting on the metal step, her arms wrapped around her knees and staring off into the distance. The lights of the city glittered before her like an endless sea.

"Are you here to hide from Wade, or are you just enjoying the view?" Logan finally asked, his voice quiet and low.

Y/n smiled faintly. "Maybe a little of both. Sometimes I just need a moment to think, you know?"

He nodded thoughtfully, though he knew she didn't look at him.

"I know what it's like, bub. Sometimes, it's hard to get a clear head when everything around you is so loud."

"Yeah." she replied quietly before adding after a pause, "But you know what I still don't understand? How someone like Wade managed to get someone like you soft."

Logan snorted and gave her a skeptical look. "Soft? That's not exactly the word I'd choose."

Y/n smiled. "Oh come on. You never would have gotten yourself into such a mess if there wasn't something about Wade that made you...let's say, more human."

Logan scanned her face in the dark with a smile and stopped his eyes on her lips.

"Maybe you're right," he murmured with a smile. "Or maybe I've just gone crazy."

He sat down next to her, and the metal creaked softly under his weight. They sat side by side in silence for a while, listening to the distant hum of the city and the muffled noise of the party behind them.

"It's nice out here," Logan finally said and leaned back. He put his head back in the neck, closed his eyes, and breathed in the cool air.

Y/n looked over at him and felt a comforting warmth in her stomach area as her eyes traveled from his profile down to his neck and then to his muscular torso.

Y/n smiled. "I like being here when your own world is a little noisy."

Logan opened his eyes again and nodded as if he knew exactly what she meant. "I understand what you mean. Sometimes, you just need distance."

Y/n looked at the city again for a moment. There was a brief, comfortable silence.

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "May I ask what your real story is?"

He looked at her sideways, surprised by her question, but then he looked off into the distance. "I've lost a lot. More than any human should have to bear... and it's all my own fault." He paused as if collecting himself before continuing. "I was born in the early 1800s. Went through all that crap - wars, experiments, the loss of people I cared about. And then I became... what I am today. A man with a skeleton made of adamantium, unable to die." he sighed.

"One night, a group of humans went mutant hunting and attacked the X-Men. I had just tumbled out of the nearest bar and heard the screams of my own people."

He began to play with his hands and became tense before continuing on about how he didn't help his team and let them die.

Y/n listened attentively without interrupting him. Her sympathy for him grew, so she slowly began to project his feelings onto herself. She felt incredibly sorry to see him like this. He had already been through so much and now it was all coming up again because of her curiosity.

She could feel all the hatred and sadness that was deep inside him. With tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat, she looked at her hands.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows and suddenly fell silent. He didn't feel a single emotion when he continued his story. Not like he was used to. He looked to Y/n.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked in a calm voice.

Y/n's head lifted, and she blinked away her tears, smiling. "I'm sorry." She said softly and put her hand on his.

Silence for a moment. Logan stared at their hands and realized what just happened. He looked at her.

"I've learned to deal with it, bub. As best I can."

They were both silent for a while, lost in thoughts. Finally, it was Logan who broke the silence again. "And you? How did you get your powers?"

Y/n took a deep breath before she began. "Unfortunately, I can only remember the day I was taken to the experimental camp. They ran various tests on me there. Wade was there too, at the same time. We got to know each other there."

She paused as the memory of those horrible days overcame her. Logan squeezed her hand lightly, as if to let her know she wasn't alone.

"Wade and I kept each other alive," she continued softly. "Without him, I probably wouldn't still be here. He made me laugh, even in the worst moments. And at some point, we managed to escape. Since then... well, he's kept me on my toes ever since. Eventually, I made a new friend and now have powers that allow me to project the feelings and pain of others onto myself."

Logan nodded in understanding. "Wade may be crazy, but he's got a big heart. Even if he likes to hide it behind his stupid sayings."

Y/n smiled at those words. "Yeah, that's true. He's my best friend. Without him, I don't think I would have ever found my way out of my darkness."

"Then I guess I owe him," Logan said, his gaze soft but serious.

"Maybe," Y/n replied softly. Their eyes met, and in that moment, the connection between them felt stronger than ever. It was as if they understood each other through their shared experiences and the pain they both knew.

Logan looked at y/n, and in her eyes he recognized a pain so similar to his own that it almost took his breath away.

The distance between them seemed to close as they leaned towards each other, as if drawn by some unseen force.

"Logan..." Y/n whispered barely audibly as her eyes slid to his lips.

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he removed his hand from hers and placed it on her cheek. His thumb gently stroked her skin. The world around them seemed to blur as they drew even closer. It was as if they only existed in that moment. Only for each other.

And then, without further hesitation, Logan closed the last few inches between them. His lips met hers, gently at first, almost hesitantly, as if testing to see if she was about to pull away. Y/n's eyes closed as she returned the kiss and her hand finding its way to his neck as she let herself fall deeper into the kiss.

It was a kiss full of unspoken words, full of emotions that neither of them had been able to express before.

The world around them disappeared, there was only the feeling of their lips meeting in a mixture of tenderness and desire. But as beautiful as this case was, it was interrupted with a familiar voice.

"Heyy are you two making out here? Without me?" Wade's voice boomed into the night, accompanied by his trademark wide grin.

"Logan, you old romantic, you really picked the perfect moment to start a fling with y/n. Shall I get the camera? Wait a minute, I need popcorn too - what's on today, 'Beauty and the Beast'?"

Logan immediately backed off, while y/n slapped a hand over her face, half annoyed, half amused. "Gosh Wade..." she began, but he interrupted her immediately.

"What? I mean, I totally get it - Logan is a sight to behold! And those biceps, mmmh! But honestly, Logan! You, the man who usually stares at walls like they're his greatest enemies, are suddenly in the middle of a rom-com moment? What's next? Candle light dinner and a love song in the background?

Tell me you at least have some cool lines in store before you fuck her!"

Y/n reached out with her hand and smacked Wade's thigh, laughing. Her embarrassment was forgotten.

Logan, on the other hand, sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes as if trying to erase Wade's voice from his brain.

"For fuck's sake Wade, I swear, if you-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, 'if I say one more sentence, I'll have your claws up my ass'. Been there, done that."

Wade grinned broadly and winked at y/n.

"But, y/n, come on, I need to know - how does it feel sucking on the lips of the King of grumpiness? Electrifying? Did you feel sparks? Or did he just taste like whiskey and world weariness?"

Y/n couldn't help but shook her head with a laugh and looked at Logan. He scanned her face and you'd swear the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards.

"Wade" Logan admonished, his voice an octave lower, "if you don't get out of here right now, you might not live to see your next birthday."

Wade raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Hey, I didn't mean to interrupt you two lovebirds. But seriously, Logan, if you've come this far, do it right! A kiss under the stars? Come on, it's movie material!"

Y/n looked back up at Wade with a smile. Logan just shook his head, but a small smile crept onto his face.

"You're impossible, Wade."

"And that's exactly why you two love me so much! Now get your bums in here before Blind Al starts beating us all with her crutches!"

Wade winked at them before disappearing back into the apartment, still laughing.

Y/n and Logan glanced at each other, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The moment had been shattered, but the connection they felt remained.

"He really is crazy," Logan finally muttered as they stood up.

"Yeah" Y/N replied with a soft smile. "But he brings out the best in us, doesn't he?"

"I guess he does," Logan agreed before he put a hand on her back, and they both stepped back into the noisy, chaotic world inside where Wade was surely already planning their next escapade.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

[fatbiatchforever]

Sleepless Nights

You turned to look at the time.

2.41 am

Five minutes since you last checked. 

You were tired and frustrated at your lack of sleep. How did people pass out in seconds? You thought about looking at your phone to google ways to fall asleep, but you knew you were thirty seconds away from accidentally opening TikTok and accidentally spending next three hours scrolling through it.

You hugged Bucky's pillow a little tighter. Maybe if he was here, you thought. You pressed your face into the pillow and counted imaginary sheeps. 

Around the fiftieth sheep, you heard something. It was so quite that you ignored it and went back to your sheeps. Your eyes shot open when you heard the click of the door and the thud on the floor. 

You jumped out of the bed and opened the door wider. You saw his silhouette across the dark room, "I woke you up, didn't I?"

You laughed, as you turned the lights on, "I wish, shit, Buck."

You walked across to look at his face, covered in blood stains and bruises. You placed your hands gently on his jaw, turning his head softly to survey the damage done.

Bucky held your wrist softly, "Y/N,"

"If you're going to tell me you're fine, don't. What happened?"

"Last day, you know how it is."

You did, but that didn't make this any easier. Each and every time he came back from a mission, covered in cuts and bruises, it hurt you, to seem him bruised and scarred. For Bucky though, you kept your cool.

"Sit down, I'll get the kit."

Just as you moved away, Bucky held onto your arm, "I'll take care of it, you should sleep."

"You're unbelievable."

You shook his arm away and moved to the kitchen to grab the kit and some water, "I haven't seen you in three weeks and you want me to choose sleep over you?"

Even though Bucky had controlled his groans, you heard them. This man was the biggest pain in your ass most days and, UGH, you missed it when he wasn't.

"So fucking stubborn." You huffed.

"Warm welcome huh?"

You kept the stuff on the table and turned to glare at him.

Bucky pushed the loose strand of hair behind your ear and ran his fingers through it, "I missed you, doll."

And that was the end of your mean facade. Literally. You leaned in, to kiss him gently, and whispered on his lips,  "I missed you too. So much."

Bucky's eyes lingered on you, while you took the supplies out to tend to your husband.

"Why are you still up?"

You turned back to him as he slid down to lay his head on the top of the couch. You winced when he hissed, "Sorry, it'll be over soon."

Bucky smiled softly, his hands circling around your waist, pulling you closer to him, "Hmm, why are you up?"

"Can't sleep."

"Why?"

You got the bandages out, "I don't know. Is the mission done?"

Bucky nodded, to which you sighed in relief.

"How long before the next one?"

Bucky's smile widened, the bag around his eyes intensifying as he did, "I'm hoping for a while."

"Good."

You concentrated on his face. He really was the prettiest. Obviously, if you said that out loud, Bucky wouldn't be happy, but that's how you felt when you looked at him. Especially, his softness around you. The need to always touch you when he was around, his words of praise for everything you did, his support for everything you wanted to do, how he takes care of you even if he was hurting, all of it made you feel loved. Oh, you loved him so much. So much that you wanted to do everything for him.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm pregnant."

Bucky shot up, which immediately led to him, wincing in pain.

"Bucky, are you okay?"

"You," Bucky's eyes focused on you, "You're pregnant?"

You nodded.

Bucky's eyes lingered down, the shock still very evident on his face, "We're having a kid?"

"I mean, yeah, that's what I hear."

Immediately you were engulfed in him. Bucky pulled you closer into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. You laughed as you wrapped your arms around him, breathing in his very grim filled shirt.

"I love you."

You kissed his chest, "I love you too."

"When did you find out?"

"Yesterday."

Bucky's hands covered your face as he kissed your forehead, "We're going to have a mini you and me, running around soon."

"We have some more time for that Buck."

Bucky placed tender kisses all over your face, "Hmm, my wife, my child's mother and my happy place."

You giggled, "Your happy place?"

Bucky kissed your jaw, "Wherever you are is my happy place."

"Oh, I think you're my happy place too."

Bucky pulled back to look at you, "Really? I thought your happy place is sipping on margaritas in Italy?"

"Guess who's sipping on margaritas with me?"

"Me?"

"Who else?"

Bucky's eyes quickly widened, and all the happiness drained out of his face, "WHY ARE YOU UP?! Did you go to the doctor? Y/N, did you eat?"

You rolled your eyes, "Here we go."

You pulled away from him and sat down. Bucky paced back and forth, infront of you, bombarding you with a question every passing second,

"Can you please breathe?"

"I should start reading some books. Find a safer house for us to live, did you tell anyone else?"

"Yep, all of Brooklyn. Should I buy a spot on Times Square too?"

"This is not funny, Y/N. I need to protect them, if something happens,"

"Buck, hey," You reach out to hold his hand, "stop, don't go there." 

Bucky sat down next to you, his head laying your chest and his hands around your waist. You ran your fingers through his scalp, playing with his hair, "You'll be a great dad."

"Yeah?"

"Of course, I have no doubt. I can see you being wrapped around our baby's fingers, doing whatever you need to do to get a smile out of them. The cool dad, their biggest supporter and their protector. Seriously, I'm glad you're my baby's dad. With you around, I don't have any reason to worry about our kids. Just like you look after me, you'll look after them. And most importantly, we'll love you just as much you love us."

Bucky looks up at you, "You'll be a great mom too."

You laughed, "I'm playing for second favorite with you around."

"You'll always be my favorite doll."

You pushed him away immediately after he kissed you, because there's only so much attack your nose could take, "Prove it to me by taking a shower."

He gets up to take his shirt off, "You're no fun." 

You scoffed, "And you're the biggest tease."

Bucky laugh echoed as he moved to the bedroom, "I got you pregnant, so mission successful."

[pickingupmymercedes]

Hey love. Can I request “you’re blurring your words together, time for bed.” but drunk Lewis? Thank you ❤️🥰

Hi lovely. That was a fun writing, hope you like it too.

I can only imagine how much of lightweight he must be now that he doesn't drink alcohol anymore.

You’re blurring your words together, time for bed.

The last of Lewis' birthday cake sat untouched in the center of the table, surrounded by the remnants of a celebratory feast. The laughter that had filled his London home earlier had died down, most of his friends and family having already departed.

Lewis' 40th unofficial birthday dinner, with a few close friends and family at his London home, was winding down. The air thick with the warmth of good food, good company, and perhaps a little too much wine. Specially for a certain birthday boy who had had almost to no alcohol for a couple of years.

Y/N watched him, a smile playing on her lips. He was amusing his dad, his words slurred but his enthusiasm undimmed, about a particularly daring overtaking maneuver from way back in the day. Anthony, chuckling and nodding along as he held that proud gaze at the man he had raised.

Lewis caught Y/N's eye at his side and winked, a mischievous glint sparkling in his usually sharp gaze. He swayed slightly in his chair, prompting Y/N to push a glass of water towards him. "Easy there, champ" she teased.

"Am a big boy you know?! Forty, to be exact" Lewis slurred, leaning back in his chair, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "Bloody hell, never thought I'd see the day."

Carmen shot him a worried look. "Are you really alright, dear?"

"Peachy, mum!" Lewis declared, throwing an arm around Y/N, nearly knocking her off balance. "Never been better! Forty years of pure…" he trailed off, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"Well," Lewis began, his voice dropping to a thoughtful and vague tone, "I never thought I'd still be racing at forty. Thought I'd be, like, retired, settled down…”

Lewis' gaze drifted to Y/n, he cleared his throat, a playful glint still lingering in his eyes.

"Maybe a few mini-Hamiltons," he stated before his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "though let's be honest, the pre-mini-Hamilton training has been… well, let's just say it's definitely kept me in top shape."

Y/N's eyes widened but she couldn’t help but laugh. The absurdity of his words making his step-mom look like a tomato, while his dad, bless him, seemed to be trying to decide between burying his head in his hands or bursting into laughter.

"Alright, birthday boy," she said, her voice firm but laced with amusement, "You're blurring your words together. Time for bed."

Lewis blinked at her, his expression a comical mix of confusion and indignation. "But…" he started, then looked around the table, finally settling on his wide-eyed nephew who was trying very hard to look anywhere but at them.

"Right." Lewis mumbled, a sheepish grin replacing the earlier defiance. "Sorry, everyone" he continued, his voice a little louder now. "Seems it really is time for bed for me. See you all tomorrow"

His friends erupted in laughter; the tension broken. Y/N couldn't help but nudge him playfully on the arm. This was Lewis, birthday drunk or not: a goofball with a heart of gold.

In bed, Lewis propped up on pillows in bed, was still musing aloud. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to…you know."

Y/N chuckled. "Don't worry about it. It’s not like they think we’re celibate" she teased, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Now, come on, Mr. Blurred Words, it's definitely bedtime."

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know," he said, "maybe forty isn't so bad after all. Got everything I ever wanted, right here." He reached for her hand, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her skin. " I'm glad I waited all these years though. Glad I didn't settle for just anyone."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart overflowing with love. "I’m glad too" she whispered. "I love you, old man"

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @jajouska

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[lon3rlife]

“I promise you that you’re not alone”

Rick Sanchez x Reader

Rick comforts you during a major depressive episode

I haven’t been doing very well for the past few weeks and writing these are one of my only sources of comfort rn tbh

It’s been getting bad again and you knew it. It’s been a struggle to even get out of bed to walk a few feet to your kitchen, your room was in shambles, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to shower. You just get like this and you know eventually you’ll get out of it, but even though you know it will eventually pass you feel so stuck in despair you feel like continuing this downward spiral until you reach rock bottom. As you lay in your bed staring at the bare wall hoping for this to all go away you get a text from Rick.

You don’t even have the energy to reach over to grab your phone, but after a few minutes you finally reach over to see what it has to say.

“Hey. Are you doing okay? I’m coming over. Do you need anything?“

Rick knows how you feel. He really does. He understands how you feel and doesn’t think of you any less. He knows when things get hard to handle and how he can make things just a little easier for you.

You don’t even have time to reply when a green light appears in your room and Rick walks in with a sympathetic smile and gets next to you in bed without saying anything.

You turn to your side and he gently tucks a strand of your messed up hair behind your ear and softly kisses your forehead.

You guys lay together for a while, nothing needed to be said. Rick waited till you felt like talking about it.

“I’ve been doing so shitty. I’m sorry.” You whisper out

“There’s nothing to be sorry about you’re doing the best you can, and I know how hard it is. Trust me. I know it’s not easy to come out of this but I’ll help you. Small steps. Little by little it will get better I promise.” He says pulling you a little closer to him as you hold on his hand softly playing with his fingers.

“I can help you clean up, and get you something to eat. Anything you want, you call the shots.” He says

“Can we please just lay like this for a while I just need to be with you right now.” You say, softly nuzzling yourself to be as close to him as possible.

“Of course baby, anything you need I’ll be here I promise .” He whispers as you close your eyes embracing him until you finally get to sleep.

You wake up the next morning, still feeling stuck in an endless loop. You lift your head off your pillow and look around your room noticing it’s cleaner than it was last night. Granted there’s still some dirty clothes on your chair, but it feels a lot less claustrophobic.

You can smell coffee being made from the kitchen, and you reluctantly make your way out of bed to try to get some food in you.

“Good morning sweetheart.” Rick smiles, a genuine smile filled with nothing but love.

“I-uh made pancakes and coffee, I think it will be good to eat an actual breakfast.”

He sits with you at the table eating with you, the food definitely making your brain feel less foggy.

“Thank you for cleaning my room. You didn’t have to do that you know.” You sleepily smile

He doesn’t even respond, just smiles and takes another bite of his breakfast

The food and small caffeine boost truly helped your head feel a bit clearer. You can’t remember the last time you ate a proper meal, but eating breakfast with the person you loved most definitely boosted your mood. It was something so small but meant so much to you, Rick as well.

After sitting at the dining table for a while just talking and enjoying each others company you guys make your way over to your couch just to lay together, in a new spot other than your bed for a small change of scenery.

“I love you so much you’re so strong.” Rick says running his fingers through your hair as you lay on his chest.

You feel genuine love for him, the love you never would have imagined you would ever feel for someone. You know that you have issues, but he does to, and that’s what makes him so perfect for you. You both understand each other in such complex ways you wouldn’t trade for the world.

[sunshinesteviee]

call it what you want - s.h.

summary: you find yourself on the edge of friendship and something more with steve at a halloween party. for @sparklingsin's spookinktober writing challenge with the prompt "quick, switch costumes with me!" wc: 8.1k wtf warnings: friends to lovers. alcohol consumption. smut!!! 18+!!! f!reader. a/n: this is the longest thing i've ever written and it killed me lol i hope y'all like it. feedback is much appreciated! love u sm. also huge shoutout to @sparklingsin and @familyvideostevie for reading this and helping me out and listening to me complain about this gd fic for weeks i love u so much thanks for putting up w me

Masterlist

Parties weren’t Steve’s thing. Not anymore, anyway. And Halloween parties in particular were definitely crossed off the list, especially after everything that had happened with Nancy a few years ago. He was over Nancy, they were even friends now, but something about the idea of going to another Halloween party stirred up a sick feeling in Steve’s stomach that he wanted to run from. Somehow, though, Robin had managed to convince him that it would be fun. 

Really, it hadn’t taken much convincing on Robin’s part — all she had to do was mention you, and Steve was in, though he’d never admit that to her. It was stupid, she thought, the way the two of you were constantly pining for each other, but refusing to do anything about it. She’d heard enough lovesick complaints from her best friends, and decided she’d take it into her own hands. And Halloween seemed like the perfect opportunity. She wasn’t quite sure how yet, but she was sure the night would end at the very least with confessions. She’d make sure of it. 

And so, Steve was two drinks deep in a crowded house, filled with more regret than beer. Robin had somehow disappeared after one drink, Eddie was nowhere in sight, and he still had yet to see you. Maybe you’d decided not to come. If so, the whole night would be a waste. He hadn’t missed parties one bit. The stuffy, crowded rooms filled with sweaty bodies pressed against each other as music pounded in his ears, pulsing lights making his head throb. 

It didn’t used to be so bad. He used to be the keg king, down shot after shot, maybe get lucky, and still wake up the next day more or less fine. Now, two drinks usually did him in, and he didn’t always like the feeling of being drunk. Of being out of control. To be fair, he’d taken quite a few beatings that had definitely fucked with his head since he’d last been to a proper party. But parties just weren’t enjoyable anymore. Especially when all of his friends had disappeared, and he didn’t know anyone surrounding him. 

Tipping the last of his drink into his mouth, Steve crushed the red plastic cup in his hand and tossed it into the trash can nearby that was already almost overflowing. A familiar laugh sounded behind him, a sweet sound above the loud bass, “Whoa there, champ. How many drinks have you had?!”

Steve already had a smile on his face as he turned around, and his jaw nearly hit the floor at the sight of you. You hadn’t ditched. And better yet, you looked fucking gorgeous. He let out an adoring laugh, eyebrows furrowing together, forehead wrinkling as he asked, “Champ?”

“Your costume, silly,” you nodded towards his outfit as you reached out, placing your warm palm against his bicep. Without thinking, Steve leaned into your touch, stepping in closer to you, his hand grazing your hip slightly. 

Since it had been a last-minute decision, and since he wasn’t fond of Halloween anyways, Steve had decided to pull his baseball uniform from high school out of his closet. It fit a little tighter than it used to, but would work well enough for one night. The ugly green and orange baseball jersey was tucked into a pair of baseball pants, and he’d even tucked his wild hair underneath a Hawkins high baseball hat. Steve’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the soft pink obvious on his pale skin, even in the dim lighting of the house. “Oh, right. Yeah, I think I kinda… knocked it out of the park with this one.”

The snort that left your mouth had Steve smiling again as you clapped a hand over your mouth, “Oh my god. That was fucking awful, Steve. It does look good, though. Can’t believe you’d ruin all of your pretty hair under that hat.”

Steve flushed again, a common occurrence that he couldn’t help when he was around you, and shrugged, “What can I say? I’m dedicated to the costume. I like your costume, too, by the way; you look nice.”

Your eyes lit up at his compliment as you bounced on the balls of your feet nervously, “Yeah? Thanks, Stevie.” You were wearing a short shirt that had “Camp Crystal Lake” printed across the chest, with a picture of a lake underneath it, and a pair of red shorts that were also nearly too short; you were a counselor from one of your favorite horror movies, Friday the 13th. Quite frankly, the costume fit you perfectly, accentuating all of your best features, and you weren’t oblivious to the way his eyes had caught on you when he’d first turned around. 

“Yeah! That’s a great movie.”

“I thought you didn’t like horror movies?” you questioned, a teasing tone lacing your words. You and Eddie had had to convince him more than once to watch a horror movie on one of your movie nights, and he usually hid underneath a blanket for more than half the movie. 

“Well, no,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he narrowed his eyes at you, “But I’ve seen that one, and it wasn’t bad. Do you want a drink?"

When you quickly agreed, Steve’s hand left your back as he pulled back from you. Before you could mourn the warmth of his hand on your skin, though, his hand was reaching toward yours. “C’mon then, babe.”

Without a second thought, your hand slipped into his, fingers slotting together easily. Steve started pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies skillfully. The grip he had on your hand, though gentle, was firm, as if you’d be lost forever if he let go. As if the crowds of people would swallow you whole and carry you away from him. He glanced back a few times to make sure you were alright, flashing you a small smile every single time his eyes caught yours. 

The alcohol was finally starting to hit Steve, making him feel a bit lighter, though maybe it was just from being near you. Your hand in his was enough to make him feel tipsy. To have him questioning if it was real. He definitely didn’t need to have another drink, not if you were going to be holding his hand like your life depended on it. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, to be close to you, but the alcohol had his senses dialed up. Steve knew that if he wasn’t careful, he might let his real feelings for you slip, and he didn’t want to risk the friendship you had. 

Steve shook his head in an attempt to clear it, though the alcohol was making it a bit difficult, and refocused back on you. He gave you a lopsided smile, working to untangle his fingers from yours, “Whaddya want, cutie? Punch? I had two cups and it’s kinda strong because I’m definitely starting to feel it, and—”

“I’ll have punch!” You’d listen to him ramble for hours, but the kitchen was even more packed than the room you’d just been in. You didn’t see Steve drunk, or even tipsy, often, and you adored the way his face flushed red and he started rambling. He’d clearly had just enough to have him feeling good, not enough to tip him over the edge, and it was endearing the way he seemed to let go a little bit. 

Not wanting to be away from your side for too long, Steve hurried across the kitchen to get a cup and fill it with punch for you. He pushed by a few people on his way back, trying to be gentler than the asshole who had pushed you, and frowned as some of the drink spilled over the edge of the cup and ran down his fingers. The pout was still on his lips as he approached you, holding the cup out, “Sorry, didn’t mean to spill it. Here you go, babe.” 

Taking the cup from him carefully, you smiled gratefully, glad that you hadn’t been the one to cross the kitchen, “Thanks, Stevie. You didn’t get one for yourself?”

“Nah, if I have more I’ll be suffering tomorrow,” he replied. As he talked, Steve lifted his hand that was now covered in the sticky punch, and slipped one of his fingers into his mouth to clean it off. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you stared in disbelief as Steve did it again with another finger. This time, he caught the look on your face and his own eyes went wide as he stared at you in confusion, completely oblivious, “What?”

You nearly choked on your drink, and you quickly shook your head, turning away from Steve so he wouldn’t see the reaction you were having. There was no doubt you were attracted to Steve — how could you not be? He was kind and funny and brave, and treated you better than anyone else ever had. The problem was, he wasn’t your boyfriend, and you were fairly certain he had no intention of that. He was a nice guy to everyone.  Just because he called you babe or cutie from time to time, and held your hand or shared blankets with you… that didn’t mean he was interested, and you’d done your best to shove those feelings down. You didn’t want to lose Steve’s friendship above all else, so if you had to pretend your feelings for him were strictly platonic, you could do that. But watching him lick his fingers clean sparked something in your stomach, and made your face feel hot. To be fair, you had already downed a shot with Nancy while the two of you were getting ready, so maybe you could just blame the way your thighs clenched on the alcohol. 

Instead of responding, you downed half the cup of punch just in time for Steve to look back at you, a grin breaking out on his face as he chanted teasingly, “Chug, chug, chug!” 

You nearly choked again, this time as you laughed, sputtering some of the red liquid out of your mouth, “Steve!” You wiped the back of your hand across your mouth to catch the drops sliding down your chin with a giggle, “Stop itttt.”

“Hey!” Steve’s pout matched yours, eyes narrowing at you, bottom lip pushing out, “How come you can tease me when I’m drinking but I can’t tease you?”

Your eyes may have lingered too long on Steve’s lips as he pouted, but he didn’t notice with the way he was unabashedly returning the favor as your tongue darted out to catch the last of the punch that had spilled past your lips. You wondered what his lips would feel like against yours. If they were as soft as they looked. If he was as good a kisser as the girls from high school claimed. You shook your head, desperately trying to focus so you could answer Steve’s question instead of gawk at him, “No, it’s not allowed.” 

Steve laughed hysterically as his arms wrapped over your shoulders so he could pull you into him. He got even more affectionate than normal when he’d had some alcohol. Pressing his lips to your hair, he shook his head, but was totally sincere as he replied, “Okay, fine! I’ll never make fun of you again, cutie. Promise.  Should we find Robin? Or maybe Nancy and Jonathan?” 

His words had you feeling like you were on fire once more, but you quickly agreed, needing to find someone else to get your mind off of Steve. To think of something other than SteveSteveSteveSteve. Your cheek pressed into the rough fabric of the jersey he was wearing, and you nodded against his chest, “Yeah, let’s go find them.” 

“Wait,” he paused, fingers wrapping around your arm as you tried to pull away from his grasp, “you still have…” His sentence trailed off as he licked the pad of his thumb before placing his free hand against your cheek, fingers slipping into the hair just behind your ear. His thumb pressed to your chin, rubbing across your skin carefully in an attempt to get rid of the last of the punch that you’d spilled. Steve’s hand slid down, fingers hooking underneath your chin as his thumb dragged down, pulling on your bottom lip slightly, and you thought for a moment that he was going to kiss you then and there, his eyes flashing with something you hadn’t seen in them before. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, and Steve was back to his tipsy, bubbly self, “Got it!”

You felt absolutely breathless, frozen in place as Steve pulled away searching the crowd for anyone he recognized. “You coming or what, babe?” 

“I, uh–” you shook your head to clear it and moved towards Steve, “Yeah, ‘m coming.” 

Finding Robin seemed to be a lost cause, but Nancy and Jonathan had been easy to find, talking to some of Nancy’s friends from high school, drinks in hand. And after talking for a bit, it didn’t take much to pull your friends away to dance with you. You immediately grabbed Steve, feeling bolder than you normally would be, and pulled him into you, chest to chest. 

Steve’s heart thudded in his chest as his hands grabbed at your hips at the same time, fingers pressing lightly into the soft skin there as you swayed to the music. Had he been sober and more aware of what he was really doing, he probably would’ve been much more flustered with the way you were pressed up against him. And, had he been sober, he would’ve seen the look Nancy and Jonathan were exchanging knowingly, with Nancy in on Robin’s plan. 

–

Robin found you a bit later, the sound of your name being called over the music was enough to get your attention, and you quickly stopped dancing next to Nancy to search the crowd of people surrounding you. It wasn’t hard to find Robin, who was already pretty tall and was wearing heels for her costume. You grinned at her, throwing your arms out to her for a hug as you shrieked her name, “Robin!”

“Hey, hot stuff!” she replied, wrapping you up in her arms, careful of the drink in her hand, “Where have you beeeen? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

You scoffed, “Stevie and I have been dancing. Thought maybe you weren’t here,” you said, pushing your bottom lip out into a pout. 

“I am! I have been the whole time!” she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world, “I’m glad I found you! We’re gonna play a game!” She paused and turned to point at Steve who had been watching the two of you, “You too, dingus! You’re gonna play, too.”

“What? No, Robin, I don’t—”

“Please, Stevie?” you asked, cutting him off with wide, pleading eyes, even though you had no idea what the game actually was, or who you’d be playing with. 

The alcohol Steve had consumed was now starting to wear off, while it seemed like it was in full swing for you. Had Robin shown up half an hour ago while he was still feeling tipsy, and was actually dancing with you, he would’ve agreed no problem. Now, as he started to think a bit more clearly, he knew that Robin’s drunk ideas usually weren’t her best, and at the very least, he’d make sure you all didn’t get into too much trouble. And, as always, he couldn’t say no to the look you were giving him. “Okay, okay, fine! I’ll play.”

Reaching out to close the distance between the two of you, your fingers curled around Steve’s bicep to pull him closer. You were giving him the brightest smile he’d ever seen as you leaned into his side, “Yay! C’mon, Harrington.”

The smile that pulled at Steve’s lips was involuntary as your hand pushed down his arm and into his own hand, tugging him behind you as you followed Robin through the house, back to the other side where she’d been beforehand with a few other friends. They weren’t really people you knew – mostly Robin’s friends from band, and Eddie and a few of his friends – but you weren’t going to let that stop you from having fun. 

“Okay!” Robin clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the small group, “Everyone stand up, get in a circle. We’re playing a new game!” 

“What game is it?” Eddie grumbled, ever the contrarian, though he was getting to his feet to do as Robin said. 

Steve had also reluctantly joined the circle, standing at one of Robin’s sides, arms crossed over his chest as he waited impatiently for her to explain what was going on. You couldn’t help but giggle at his sullen expression as you glanced at him from the other side of your friend standing between the two of you. Your laugh caught his attention, and he cracked a smile as he glanced over Robin to look at you, eyebrows furrowing together as if he was asking “What’s so funny?”

You shook your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth with a smile as you quickly glanced away, trying to focus on what Robin was saying. Only after you’d listen to half of the “rules” did you realize that this was some kind of speed costume changing game, and you groaned, feeling a bit too tipsy for trying to change quickly. Not only that, but this felt like a game that some boy in high school had come up with in hopes to see the girl he liked half naked. 

“On the count of three, find someone that you want to change costumes with, and then we’ll time everyone! One… two… three!” 

You’d been counting on switching with Robin, considering she was right next to you, and you could probably get into at least some of her clothes. Steve had a similar idea – who else was he going to switch with when he’d already shared clothes with her before? – and turned in her direction. Robin, on the other hand, had a different idea, pointing aggressively at Nancy who was across the circle from her, “Nance! You’re my partner!” She quickly stepped out from between you and Steve and darted over to Nancy without letting her respond. 

At the same time, both you and Steve groaned in frustration, “Robin!” She all but cackled, an evil grin on her face that you knew meant this had been her plan all along. You’d told her about your feelings for Steve, but you never expected her to use that information against you.  

Still, you turned to Steve with a grin, hooking your arm through his to pull him closer to you, “Guess you’re my partner, Harrington! No backing out now!” 

As soon as he realized that partners were being shoved in one of the closets one at a time to change as fast as possible, Steve wished desperately that he could back out. His face burned at just the thought of being in a confined space with you while you took off your clothes. He didn’t have long to think about it, though, as after two other pairs were timed, Robin quickly pushed the two of you in, closing the door behind you and plunging you into complete darkness, except for the small sliver from under the door. 

You and Steve weren’t strangers to being close to one another, but this felt like a new level of intimacy, and Steve didn’t know what to do. His heart was pounding in his ears, so loud he was worried you’d be able to hear it, too, considering how close you were. It didn’t seem to affect you as much, though maybe that was just the alcohol, and you giggled with an urgent whisper, “Quick! Switch costumes with me, Steve! I don’t wanna lose!” With that, you pulled your shirt over your head, nearly elbowing Steve in the face with how fast you were moving. Steve immediately averted his eyes to the dark ceiling, wanting to be a gentleman, though he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about you shirtless. 

Frustrated with how slow he was moving, you gave his shoulder a weak push, “C’mon, Stevie!”

Steve huffed, amused with how badly you wanted to win, even though he knew it wasn’t going to happen, “Okay, I’m going!” He started unbuttoning the baseball jersey as fast as he could as you started to shove your shorts down your legs, and suddenly his buttons became a lot more interesting, fingers fumbling with the small pieces of plastic. The closet felt scorching hot as he shrugged off the jersey and quickly pulled the  plain white tee he was wearing underneath off as well, shoving it in your direction. “Jesus, babe. Here.”

The shirt you’d been wearing had been quickly dropped to the floor as you pulled Steve’s shirt over your head, immediately engulfed in his scent. He always smelled nice, and this shirt was no exception. As much as you wanted to hug yourself and breathe in Steve’s comforting scent, you also wanted to win, and slipped the jersey on, motioning for Steve to take his pants off next. Your voice was frantic when you spoke again, “Pants! Give ‘em to me!”

The giggling from his friends outside the door was distracting to Steve as he thought of ways he could get back at Robin for this. It was torture, really, being shoved into a small space with the girl he liked while they undressed, but in a situation where he couldn’t touch her without seeming like a perv. He was only snapped out of his thoughts when your hands reached out towards his waist, going for the button on his pants. There was no way he could let that happen, and pushed your hands away, all but shouting, “I got it!”

He quickly shimmied out of his pants and traded them with you for the tiny shorts you’d been wearing. Groaning internally, Steve pulled them up his legs and knew immediately that he looked ridiculous. They barely fit over his thighs, and his ass was nearly hanging out. It was bordering on completely inappropriate to be wearing in public; he might as well just be wearing his boxers with how little it left to the imagination. “These do not fit.”

Just then, you stumbled forward as you tried to get Steve’s baseball pants on, hand catching on his chest for the second time that evening. His hand shot out as if on instinct, grasping at the bare skin of your hip to steady you, even though there wasn’t really any place for you to go. You were giggling like a maniac, breathless as you murmured a thanks and pulled the pants up all the way. It was only as you buttoned the pants that you realized your shirt had dropped on the ground, and you grabbed it, shoving it into his hands, failing at your horrible attempt to avoid looking at his bare chest, “Last one!”

Steve stared at the fabric in his hands skeptically; the shirt was already short on you, there was no way this wasn’t going to be the most extreme crop top anyone had ever seen on him, “I don’t wanna rip it!”

“You won’t!” you reassured him, “‘s okay if you do, anyway. ‘M never gonna wear it again.”

Letting out what was possibly the most dramatic sigh you’d ever heard, Steve pulled your shirt over his head. The fabric stretched around his arms and chest, the hem falling just below his pecs. His entire stomach was exposed, and while it wasn’t exactly what he’d prepared for that night, the smile on your face in the dark made it worth it. 

As your hand reached for the doorknob, Steve realized you were missing one last piece of his costume, “Wait! Can't forget this.” He lifted his hat off of his head and placed it on yours carefully, running his hand through his hair, “Okay, we’re good.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as he placed his hat on your head, and you nearly dropped everything to kiss him then and there, but the sound of someone laughing outside the door caught your attention. You gave Steve a grin and then pushed the door open, nearly falling over yourself as you shouted, “We’re done! Did we win?!”

Steve’s hand was at your hip again to steady you as he followed you out. He finally felt like he could breathe again. The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, but it felt like he’d spent a lifetime in the closet with you. So close, but so far. 

So wrapped up in his own thoughts, Steve missed everything you and Robin were discussing, until there was a loud wolf whistle from someone else in the group, “Damn, Harrington! Who knew you had all that ass!”

 Without even glancing in the direction of the noise, Steve knew who it was. He flipped his middle finger up but grinned at his friend, “Fuck off, Munson!”

You let out a laugh as you turned to Steve to say something, but you felt like all of the air had been sucked out of your lungs when you finally properly saw Steve. It’d been too dark in the closet to really see what your clothes looked like on Steve, so you were surprised to see how little of your costume actually covered him. His biceps, stomach, and legs were on full display, and somehow, it still wasn’t enough. Your eyes caught on his arms, the small moles and freckles that covered his stomach, and then, the trail of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of the much-too-short shorts. 

Robin, who was standing next to you, nudged your shoulder, a smirk evident on her face. Her plan was working. You were short-circuiting. Even though your head was feeling less fuzzy due to the alcohol, you might as well have been drunk on Steve. You watched for a few seconds as he found space on the couch to sit down, his cheeks flushed a light pink, and then turned to your friend. 

“Robin!” you hissed her name, grabbing at her elbow to pull her closer to you. You gave her the most menacing glare you could muster, but before you could say anything else, she let out a low giggle. 

She looked quite pleased with herself, leaning in and whispering loudly, “Did anything happen in there?” 

“No! How would that even be possible?” you asked, laughing a little yourself at her ridiculousness. 

“Dunno, but a girl’s gotta try. Still have the rest of the night to make something happen.” 

As much as you didn’t want to give in to Robin’s hand, you were starting to realize that if she was trying this hard to get something to happen between you and Steve, it probably meant that Steve felt something for you too. You narrowed your eyes at her and then huffed, all but stomping away in search of Steve. If something was going to happen, it had to happen before you lost the confidence. 

He was still sitting on the couch, chatting with Eddie, but quickly looked up as you walked over, eyebrows furrowed in concern at your seriousness, “Are you okay?”

“Will you come with me?” you asked instead of answering his question, holding your hand out to him. 

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, still confused, but took your hand in his and stood up, allowing you to lead him away. You weaved in and out of people, trudging up the stairs to find a quieter place to talk. 

When you finally found an empty bathroom, you flicked on the lights and pulled Steve inside, shutting and locking the door behind you so no one would bother you. The music from downstairs had quieted to a dull thud and suddenly the idea of confessing your feelings felt much more daunting in the harsh light of the bathroom. You quickly turned away from Steve to try to take a deep breath, wringing your hands. Steve watched in concern, reaching a hand out to rest on your forearm gently, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

You were just going to have to go for it. Turning around quickly to face him again, you started rambling, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I think I just have to jump into the fucking deep end and say it. Especially since Robin’s getting on my nerves with all of the scheming and smug smiles, which I’m sure you’ve noticed, but if I’m reading this wrong, I’m really sorry, we can just pretend it never happened, and–”

“Say what, babe?” Steve interrupted, shaking his head which caused his hair to bounce slightly, “You’re worrying me.” 

“I really like you, Steve. A lot.”

It was silent for a moment, and you couldn’t tell what Steve was thinking with the way he was staring at you so intently, nearly scrutinizing. Your heart began pounding in your chest, worried that you had read the entire situation wrong. His arms crossed over his chest and he let out a soft sigh, “You’re drunk.” 

“I’m not!” you insisted quickly, shaking your head vehemently, “Maybe the tiniest bit tipsy, but mostly sober, I swear. I’m– I’m serious, Steve. I just… I thought maybe Robin had a point? And honestly, you look so fucking good in those shorts, and I–”

You were cut off as Steve surged forward, one hand moving to cup the back of your head, the other grabbing at your hip to pull your body into his. Before you could process what was happening, Steve’s lips were on yours and he was kissing you desperately. Your hands struggled to find purchase as they landed on his shoulders and you kissed him back, hardly able to believe that this was actually happening. That you were kissing Steve. But just as soon as you’d started to wrap your head around it, Steve pulled back, eyes wide, chest heaving. 

“You don’t…” he stopped himself and shook his head as he looked down at the floor for a moment before looking up to you, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. How long I’ve liked you.”  His hand that had grabbed at your side flattened as he smoothed over the fabric of the baseball pants, his gaze dropping down to the floor again bashfully. 

“Are you drunk?” you asked in disbelief. 

Steve laughed, a soft and amused sound, as he shook his head and repeated your earlier sentiment, “No. Just barely tipsy, almost completely sober. I feel sober now.” 

The kiss had sobered you up, too. Your hands slid down from his shoulders, palms resting flat against his chest as you tilted your head up so you could see him clearly. You could count each individual eyelash if you wanted. Count each and every freckle on his face. But all you really wanted was to kiss him. 

Your lips met his again as you pushed your chin up, fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt as Steve sighed into your mouth. Both of his hands dropped to your waist, pressing against your body gently until the small of your back bumped into the counter behind you. He squeezed your waist again as he murmured against your lips, “Up.” 

You jumped just enough as he helped to lift you onto the counter. His palms grasped at your thighs, fingers digging into the softness there as he stepped into the space between your legs. Once his lips were back on yours, his hands dropped down to your ass and pulled you forward on the counter easily. The feeling made you gasp; your shorts on him left little to the imagination with how you were pressed against him, “Steve.” Your own hands slid down from where they were resting against his chest and pushed against the soft lines of his abdomen, feeling up towards the tiny shirt on him.

“Mm?” he hummed, distracted by the feeling of your hands on his skin. His lips trailed along your jaw, nipping at your skin softly. 

“Want you,” you breathed out, eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the feeling of his lips on your neck. 

This caught Steve’s attention and his eyes lit up at your admission, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, cheeks filling with heat as you recalled the moment earlier in the evening when Steve had licked the spilled punch off of his fingers, “Want… want your fingers.”  

“Shit, okay, babe. Just let me…” he trailed off as his fingers hooked into the waistband of the baseball pants. You lifted your hips to help, letting him drag the fabric down your legs and drop them to the floor. Steve’s eyes caught on the wet spot in the center of your underwear and he cursed softly as his hands slid back up your legs, thumbs sliding up the inside of your thighs. A smirk was growing on his lips, “Y’already so wet, baby.” 

You let out a soft huff of embarrassment, cheek pressing into your shoulder to ease the burn as you looked up at Steve, “You’re… you just… you look really fucking hot in basically a crop top and short shorts and then you’re kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before, and–”

“Relax, cutie. I got you,” Steve’s eyes softened, the pads of his thumbs rubbing small circles up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the hem of your panties. At the same time, the tip of his nose brushed down the length of yours before gently nudging up against yours until he caught your lips with his own. 

He kissed you a bit softer than he had before, murmuring as his fingers slipped under the hem of your panties, rubbing back and forth against the delicate skin, “Can I get rid of these?”

Instead of answering, you lifted your hips off of the counter again so Steve could pull the fabric off. It dangled off of your ankle for a moment before falling to the ground to join the pants. Steve’s hands were warm at your knees as he pushed your legs apart, but before he could properly touch you, you grabbed at his wrist, fingers circling around it carefully. He watched you in confusion, about to speak but quickly cut himself off when you finally did what you’d been wanting to do all evening. 

You pulled his hand up to your mouth, kissing his palm once before your tongue darted out to circle his middle and ring fingers. Steve’s jaw dropped open slightly, eyes somehow growing even wider as you took his fingers into your mouth, his breath hitching, “Jesus fucking christ, babe, I—” Your hand still wrapped around his wrist gave it a small tug, releasing his fingers from your lips with a small pop. “Fuckin’ hell, baby.”

Steve kissed you like it was his last chance, tugging at your lips and licking into your mouth, distracting you enough to let his hand drift back down to your center. You jolted forward, whining into his mouth as his spit-slick fingers traced up your center until his fingertip nudged into your clit. “Please, Stevie.”

“I got you, baby,” he replied softly, emphasizing his words with another circle over your clit. Then, as if reading your mind, he slipped two fingers into you, drawing quiet moans from the both of you. “Shit, you’re so tight.”

His words had you clenching around his fingers as you leaned back, pressing your palms into the cool countertops beneath you. Finally, he started moving his fingers, thrusting them in and out of your cunt at a slow pace. “Steve, I need— oh, shit— I need more.”

Happy to oblige, Steve picked up the pace a bit, fingertips just grazing the spot that was going to make you see stars. Ever in tune with you and your body, he heard your soft whimper, and saw the way your fingers curled over the edge of the countertop, knuckles white with how tightly you were gripping it. He didn’t really have to ask, but did anyway, a knowing smirk settling over his lips, “Right there?”

“Ri-right there,” you repeated, voice breaking as you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against Steve’s hand. He curled his fingers inside of you and then he doubled down, fingertips repeatedly rubbing against the same spot that had you keening before. And when his thumb pressed to your clit, you nearly fell apart then and there.  

“C’mon, baby, know you’re close,” Steve muttered, rubbing his thumb over your clit again and again and again until you were clenching around him and falling over the edge with a loud moan of his name.

Your head fell back, thudding against the mirror on the wall behind you as you gasped for air, knocking Steve’s hat on your head off, chest heaving, “Fuck, Steve, I–” The words died in your throat as your eyes fluttered open, only to find Steve with his fingers halfway to his mouth. 

He paused for a moment but quickly took note of the way your breath hitched, eyes wide, and slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean for the second time that evening. You squirmed against the counter, trying to shuffle off of it as Steve hummed around his fingers and then pulled them from his lips, “Mm, y’taste so good, babe.” 

“Holy shit, Stevie,” you gasped as you stumbled off of the counter. 

Steve’s hands shot out, grabbing at your hips to steady you, “You okay?”

“More than okay,” you replied, nodding as your hands trailed down Steve’s chest. To prove your point, you leaned up on your toes and pressed your mouth to his. One of your hands curled into the tiny shirt as you kissed him, and the other slid down his chest and abdomen, brushing over the soft hair that disappeared under the waistband of the shorts. You paused, pulling your mouth from Steve’s to look up at him through your eyelashes, “Can I?”

“I— yeah,” Steve nodded hard, hair bouncing with the movement. He looked so pretty — prettier than normal — with his messy hair and wide hazel eyes, lips pink and shiny from your kissing. As he dipped back down to kiss you again, you slid your hand under the waistband of the shorts, but over his boxers. He groaned as you began palming him, and you nearly did as well. 

The shorts left very little to the imagination — you knew Steve was big, but feeling him hard in your hand was something completely different. You wanted him, and you weren’t sure you could wait much longer. Your fingers tugged at the shorts and his boxers, discarding them into the pile of your clothes, and you pressed a kiss to his hipbone as you straightened up again, “What… what do you want, Stevie?”

His chest heaved as your hand wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly while you waited for an answer. Steve felt like he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function. Not when you were finally, finally touching him. He wanted to do so many things with you, but most of all, he wanted you. “Need to be inside you, baby, fuck.”

Your breath hitched a little at his admission and you nodded quickly, wanting whatever he wanted, “Okay. ‘M yours, Stevie.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he groaned, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your hips again to help you back onto the counter and pull you towards the edge. “Do you— um, I don’t have a condom, I—”

“‘S okay,” you shook your head quickly, leaning back into your hands as one of your legs hooked around Steve’s waist and pulled him in closer to you, “‘m on the pill.”

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, eyes searching yours carefully. 

“Positive, Steve. I want you. Have for a long time.”

That was enough for Steve, and he shuffled forward, one hand resting against your waist while the other reached down to line himself up at your entrance. You sucked in a sharp breath as Steve pushed in slowly, your hands sliding into his hair at the back of his head. It was more of a stretch than you were used to, and it must have shown on your face because Steve’s hand left your hip and came up to cradle your cheek carefully, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth, “Okay?”

“Mhm,” you breathed out heavily, eyes flicking open to find Steve’s face centimeters from yours. His thumb rubbed soothingly over your cheekbone, back and forth a few times, and you nodded, “More, Steve.”

Steve nodded, pressing another soft kiss to your lips as he pushed forward again slowly, searching your face for any sign that you wanted to stop. And when he found none, he continued until his hips were flush with yours. His jaw clenched, fingers digging into your thigh that was around his waist, and hitched it higher up his side to push a bit deeper. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he murmured, dropping kisses to your shoulder. 

Your mind was racing, but with thoughts of only SteveSteveSteveSteve once again. Your senses were flooded with him; the smell of his cologne and sweat, the sound of his heavy breaths in your ear, the taste of his lips on yours, his hands on your body and his cock buried deep inside your cunt. With a gasping breath, you pulled Steve’s chest to yours, your other leg wrapping around his waist. “Ready. ‘M ready. You can move.” 

His hands slid under your arms and wrapped around your back to hold you against him as he began to move his hips slowly, “God, baby, you— fuck— you feel so good around me. So good for me, huh? Been wanting you like this forever.”

You rolled your hips into his as you all but sobbed his name, pressing your heels into the small of his back. He took the hint quickly and picked up the pace, the filthy sound of his skin smacking yours filling the small bathroom. Your hands searched over his shoulders and back, slipping underneath the shirt of yours that he was somehow still wearing, nails digging into his skin. 

Steve’s chin hooked over your shoulder, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind you. He looked just as fucked out as he felt; eyes and hair wild as he clung to you. What really got to him, though, was the sight of his last name sprawled across your back. Maybe, just maybe, you’d finally be his after all of this. Heart racing at the sight, he set a punishing pace, “Look so fuckin’ good in my clothes, sweetheart. You’re so… so fucking perfect.” 

“Steve— oh fuck— you feel so good. Gonna come soon, ‘m so close—” you were mumbling incoherently into Steve’s neck, trying your best to meet his thrusts, which became harder as one of his hands snaked down between the two of you to rub over your clit. You clenched around him again at the feeling, pulling the best noise you’d ever heard from the back of Steve’s throat. Your moan echoed his, completely oblivious to the fact that you were still at a party and that someone could probably hear you. 

“Gonna come for me, my pretty girl?”

My pretty girl. His and only his. It was enough for you to come undone, Steve’s name intertwined with the curses and filthy moans you couldn’t hold back. His thrusts faltered, hips stuttering against yours as he came, your name spilling from his lips in a way you wanted to hear again and again and again. 

Your chest heaved against his as you both tried to catch your breaths, and you left soft, open-mouthed kisses to the crook of his neck where you’d buried your face as you’d come. His hands were gentle as they pushed up your thighs and hips, around your back to slip under the shirt of his you were wearing. They were exceptionally warm, tracing over the curve of your spine as he pressed your body into his, voice soft at your ear as he murmured, “Are you okay?”

You let out a soft laugh as you kissed up Steve’s jaw, fingers slipping into the slightly damp hair at the nape of his neck, twisting a strand around your index finger, “‘M perfect, Steve. Are you okay?”

“Fuck,” he laughed, shaking his head in amusement, popping up from your shoulder to look into your eyes, “I’ve never been better. Meant what I said… been wanting you forever.” 

“Yeah?” you asked quietly, feeling bashful, like he wasn’t still inside of you.

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, dipping his head down to press a soft peck to your lips. At the same time, his hands moved back down to your hips, holding you tightly as he finally pulled out. You winced slightly at the feeling, causing a soft apology to tumble from Steve’s lips, followed by another soft peck. 

It was quiet as you cleaned each other up as best as you could, stealing sweet kisses from the other more often than necessary. The sound of the music had finally come back into focus, and you realized that it wasn’t as loud as you’d remembered. Still, you’d do it all again, even though you weren't sure you could walk, and you knew your friends were going to give you shit for how long the two of you had disappeared. 

As you redressed, you finally swapped your clothes back, but just as you were about to give Steve the last piece of his costume — the jersey — he shook his head, cupping your cheek in his hand, tilting your head up, “You wear it. Looks better on you. And besides, need everyone to know you’re mine now.” 

You didn’t put up a fight, grinning and shrugging the jersey back over your shirt that Steve had definitely stretched out. Smoothing down your shirt, you held your hands out to your sides slightly, “Good?” 

Steve laughed again, reaching out to swipe a thumb under your eye in an attempt to remove some of the mascara that had smudged, “As good as it’s gonna get. And still perfect. Ready?”

Before he could open the door, you grabbed his hat off of the counter and brushed his hair back before placing it on his head, “For the sex hair. Oh, and Steve?”

“Yeah, cutie?” 

“Good game!” you giggled, slapping his ass before bolting out of the bathroom, leaving Steve to stare after you for a few moments with the biggest grin on his face. 

[its-actually-minicika]

Letters Perished in Dried Ink (18+)

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: vivid descriptions of male masurbation, slight angst, a lot of lousy grandpas who have and will continue to butt into your situationship with Aemond;

Word Count: 6.5k;

Author's Note: I struggled with major writer's block this month. I suppose it happens to the best of us :") While I'm still working on the three fics I promised you guys, have this tiny one-shot to make up for the lack of updates ♡

I tried to be poetic. Alas, I miserably failed. See you in the next update (which is going to hopefully present much better)!

How could a misunderstanding ruin everything seven years of love has built?

Her steady hand reached for the quill, and the girl settled her feather over the small and modest piece of paper. For two, mayhaps three seconds she paused, thinking well on what she would like most adherently to convey.

Her eyes glossed over with the swirl of mischief, and the Lady smiled to herself, while expelling a tantalising and brisk breath.

To my dearest, Aemond

While I was afraid that my time in King’s Landing would change the perception I had of my homeland, I must admit that I was wrong. I might push as far as to say that everything remains the same; not a change since I last saw it. My chamber, with the dolls I left on the goose-stuffed pillows, the training grounds – none the grander as the ones in the Red Keep, mind you –, and the large halls of Riverrun… all seemingly frozen in place.

Albeit the doors feel smaller now, and I can reach without the help of a stool where I once could not, I find that I am underwhelmed, and dangerously melancholic over the time I spent in your company, which accounted for so much of my early girlhood.

Grandfather has taken to my return quite well. He is still bedridden, but somehow more vivacious that his blood is nearer yet.

I look at the portraits that adorn the walls of our darkened castle, and sometimes think back to my elder brothers. I think grandfather does so, as well.

But such terrible quarrels have no place in my dull writings! This new life isn’t as tedious as I make it out to be. I was acquainted with my Septa, though much of my education will be taken care of by grandsire now. Yesterday I walked the grounds for hours on end, and managed to spot some old and familiar faces. I had forgotten how kind the riverlords can be.

One thing that must be noted – and recognised as quite peculiar – is how quiet it is here. Naturally, there is no active Court to gossip and flaunt back their wealth and actions.

You would like it here.

And I’ll say this much: I’d like it better if you were here, too.

I end my musings with burning questions, that you simply must answer in your next correspondence:

First and foremost, how have you been? Secondly, how are our good Queen and King? Word reached the Trident that your father’s fallen sick, and so I pray piously without stray that he recovers well and quickly. Thirdly, how is sweet Helaena fairing? Last I heard of her, the babe was close to being born.

I readily await for your reply, and urge you to make haste with it!

Until then I remain, as always,

Your inquisitive and loyal friend

His eye trails over the slight curve of her writing. And the Prince catches himself smiling, humming in admission at her carefully picked-out words.

He notices, with great perplexion, that despite his hardest efforts of stifling such impropriety, the ache inside his chest arouses. His heartbeat hammers out of him, granting a slight tremor in his lax and calloused hand.

And he stands this way, hovering over the pristine parchment, whilst bringing his hand out to pinch the bridge of his nose – rub his throbbing blinder with the back end of his hand. His broad chest heaves with every laboured exhale, and Aemond sighs with proper longing.

To my good friend,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, and in higher spirits than the day you wrote to me. It is very unlike you to barely fill a page. I expect your next communication to hold greater details of your life in the Riverlands.

King’s Landing is the same as you remember. Smells like shit and feels like shit, especially now, as I'm denied from the raptures of your company.

My routine too, remains identical. I am seated next to Aegon when we break fast as of late, and I must stress how greatly I preferred my view beforehand.

I report with great sorrow that hardly any intelligent conversation has been had since your swift departure. I'm left longing at the dinner table, for your calculated thoughts, for your sweet melodic voice, and for our elbows to be lightly touching.

Mother is overwhelmed with higher duties of the Court. I try to help her as best I can, with whatever tasks she may yet entrust me with. I lack the patience to sit idly, and so I’ve taken to Aegon’s share of duties. I fulfil them better than he ever could, and the exercise proves itself useful: for I scarcely find the time to think of you throughout the day.

The nights and morrows are harder yet, as my thoughts reach out to you, wondering helplessly how you spend your better days, so painfully far from me.

A dozen maesters tend to Viserys, each saying he will get better as time has its murky say. Yet ‘til that “eventual better” makes itself known to us all, he nurses his body with milk of the poppy, and lets mother do all his work.

Helaena is well. She dreamt the babe would be a boy, and already settled on a name for him. She wishes to call him Maelor, something that hasn’t been rebuked by Aegon.

She misses you greatly. As do I.

As does Vhagar.

The Red Keep feels empty without your fits of laughter.

Beckon your reply quickly.

Your most dutiful servant,

Aemond

A little over a week had passed since his Lady’s last reply. One week and four full days, to be exact... though Aemond would never own up to counting.

His sour mood grew to exceed all expectations, and the Prince bit his tongue through most of dinner, barely uttering a single word. His quiet nature wasn’t something to be troubled of, but even his drunk-out-of-his-mind brother noticed something had been irking him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so brooding, brother.” Aegon voiced out his concern, after another hefty gulp of alcohol. An impish grin spread across his puffy face, and Viserys’ first-born son leaned over in his chair to soothe him. “Am I right to assume that this has something to do with the lack of reply from a certain lady of the Riverlands?”

A low growl etched from deep within the youth’s throat. Aemond regarded Aegon with a cutting look, and extended his arm forward to grip the base of the wine pouch. He took a moment to ponder on the gaucherie of getting drunk, but settled on thrusting himself to the momentary relief that a hazy mind could offer.

Briskly, he took a swing of the burning liquor, and disregarded the way in which his mother absent-mindedly glared at him.

A loud snicker echoed through the quiet room, and Aegon clasped his hands together, pouting acutely at his brother's actions. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

A knot of heartfelt disregard tightened in Aemond’s throat, and his fist clenched painfully right above the wooden table. His free hand gripped the handle of the knife with a knowledge untoward, and the Prince shared a look with his elder brother, while rotating the blade about.

“Careful, Aegon. There are plenty of sharp objects around this table. And you haven’t been spotted in the training yard for quite some time."

His purple eyes widened to rounded specs of unreliant fear. Still he put on a lazy smile, and merely shrugged his shoulders. Aegon’s mouth opened again, threatening to spew out words that would grant no happy ending to their cosy dinnertime.

Eventually, it was Alicent’s glacial tone that interrupted their clash of wits.

“Boys,” She warned them both, not even bothering to look at them, “That is enough.”

Aegon’s mouth slouched childishly, and the man scoffed in rebuttal, while pointing at his rowdy sibling. “I was merely expressing my concern for Aemond, mother. He’s been very affected, now that his lady love abandoned him.”

Immediately Aemond rebuked his cutlery, and in the span of a single second, the Prince latched onto his berating brother. A dangerous look drew across his Targaryen features, making them all the sharper and unforgiving. Woefully he gripped his collar, hoisting him off the ground with an unnatural and vexing ease, and settled on squeezing Aegon’s gorget as he muttered to him darkly. “Either keep quiet on your own accord, or I’ll gladly silence you.”

Four white cloaks swarmed around them, and Otto Hightower nearly screamed, but the brawl reached an early end as the elder nodded rapidly at Aemond, and the latter loosened the hold he had over his bouchered vest.

“Seven Hells…” Aegon had cursed, mumbling lowly whilst feeling his neck for any sores, “Didn’t know it was such a delicate subject.”

Throwing a jaded look around the table, the One-Eyed Prince clenched his jaw.

He frowned deeply, and let out a tired hum at the notion of his sister’s face, so shocked and confused by his sudden outburst. As he felt his own grow numb, no doubt reddened by the scene he’d single-handedly played out, Aemond’s lips pursed to a tight, embarrassed line.

Whilst his hands itched him in shame, and his eye desperately avoided his mother’s, the young man instead focused on the erotic tapestries that adorned the stone-hedged walls.

His lone orb remained fixated on their arched positions, but, as his brother laughed again, Aemond begrudgingly returned his stare.

“Pardon me.” He muttered coldly, whilst giving a slight bow to the silent gathering, and, with one elegant but hurried movement, grabbed the full cask of wine, as he turned tautly to retreat to his chambers.

He swallowed thickly at his swift undoing, and chastised himself for losing touch with what was proper and allowed. His long fingers clasped painfully behind his back, digging at the flesh of his calloused palms, making him click his tongue in disarray; he notices, mayhaps too late, that all his blood had run elsewhere – thus the man takes wider steps to reach the confinements of his room, and lets out a choked-out breath, as the clogged air of his chamber finally hits his nose.

Methodical, aware and present, he sets the wine aside from him, pouring himself a generous cup, and fiddles with the expensive sheets that lay across his wooden table. His hand stumbles over the ink bottle, and the Prince levels out his rapid breathing, preparing himself to write again.

To My Lady,

A gulp of the liquid courage is all he needs to decidedly settle his red feather over the wilted paper.

Your lack of response to my latest confession irks me to no bitter end. I am a patient man, but I will not be denied entrance to your life. I will not have you refuse me the candour of communication.

Not when I spent my entire life waiting submissively by your side.

If your perpetual silence is owed to something I said, or something you’ve heard about me, I demand that you scorn me for it. Write a lengthy paragraph of all my near and far shortcomings, as you so often did when we were children. I promise to make a praying altar of that letter, grovel over it and at your feet, until my indiscretion should be forgiven.

Do not attempt to drive me away with petty ignoring. Such a feat is beneath you.

Another gulp of bitter wine is what allows his hand to flow more freely.

I confess that days and nights I have spent laying restlessly in bed, praying to the Seven to grant me passage to a single thought of yours. I ached to hear your words and feel your voice touch me so deeply. I am afraid I became brazen and unkind in the tortures of your absence.

I lest conclude that this should be a leisure letter to write – words should come easily, and in short, it should be simple for me to tell you how desperately happy I was to open your communication, and see your sweet and narrow writing.

Aemond halts his hurried musings, and encouraged by the hotness of the room, thinks back on the sinful indulgence he’d committed with her letter.

How he kissed over the parchment a million times thereafter, and how he licked at its bent corners, shuddering at the thought that her hand had ghosted over – perhaps even rested on – the marginal and flimsy paper.

He abjures his thoughts to the back of his mind, and lets out a low curse at the throb that forms over his missing eye.

A Prince should never bow, nor beg, nor relent. Yet here I stand, forever obediently at your beck and call, begging you to write again.

His patch fell heavily upon his skin. The nerves of his face stung the stimulated bit of skin, and Aemond huffed out an exacerbated breath, as he decidedly yanked the blinder away from his handsome face.

My duties at Court make it such that it is impossible for me to leave the proximities of King’s Landing. But should you make the mistake of not replying to me again, I’ll have no choice but to mount Vhagar and fly over to you myself.

… So reign your anger on me, should you need to. And just grant me with a quick reply.

Aemond.

Not even bothering to read it over, the man reached for the stamp she gifted him, inspecting its sapphire hilt with a scorned look over his face, and an angry furrow to his brow. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, as he passively set the hilt aside.

His next movements were slow, methodical – Aemond folded the paper in half, and poured the hot wax over it; grabbing the stamp, and lowering it on the paper, allowing the Targaryen seal to leave its mundane mark behind.

Harsh thoughts swirled inside his head, and the Prince lowered the parchment, promising to send word out on the morrow, and personally deliver his Lady the much-improved, insistent letter.

‘The best of friends for seven years,’ he scoffed bitterly to himself, recalling the oath they’d made each other.

He wouldn’t allow her to walk away. He wouldn’t allow her to forget about him. And he would force her to look at him, and explain the means of her reaping silence.

The gentle rays of morning wash themselves over his handsome features. The heatwaves of summer lick over his translucent skin, and the golden rays of daybreak thread themselves into his silver hair.

Aemond groaned in roaring anguish, as he ran a calloused hand up and over his throbbing cheek.

The discarded eyepatch, now resting on the floor. The littered parchments, still laying on his table. The lone letter, which had been written so angrily, just to be resentfully abandoned as his ire simmered down the night before.

Each object served as a dull and pained reminder of his lack of princely conduct, of the effects of the wine… of her brazen and determined silence.

The Prince bit over his lower lip, and fluttered his eyelid tightly shut. Enwrapped in his fine silks, and under the comforts of his chambers, he allowed his mind to lead to her again. To the image of her sprawled-out form, waiting for him inside his bed.

He sighs deeply, and questions his sanity – or lack thereof –, his patience, his virtue. What he wrote in his confessions was the fair and honest truth – In the few moments of solitude that he grantedly took for himself, the riverlander scarcely ever left his thoughts.

Aemond writhed into the mattress, and peeled the cover away from his heated body. He needn’t have looked down upon him to see the quaint trailing effect that his friend had had on him; but he did, and in the process, hastily pulled his throbbing cock out of his breeches, to begin to pump himself – mayhaps relieve the stress and anger that ruled over his very being.

A tender hiss escaped his lips, as his movements sped up in pace. The Crown Prince bit over his lower lip, and a shaky hand came to rest over his parted mouth, to dull the shameful and alluding sounds that escaped his burning throat.

He ran his thumb over the leaking tip, gathering up his seed in singular and striking swipes, guiding the clear droplets of liquid to trail towards his aching stones, and coat over his impressive length.

A low grunt slipped past his hand, and Aemond sank his teeth into the tender flesh, stifling down any further moan or laboured breath.

"F-Fuck… my Lady…"

His back shuddered from the blinding pleasure, and his free hand came to rummage under his pillows in the most desperate of searches.

His eye opened but for a moment, as his digits grazed the bent edges of the first letter she'd addressed him – the one he'd cherished with ample reverence, and secretly carried with him to every place he went.

His lilac orb trailed over the contents of the wilting parchment, which by then he knew by heart, but stopped at the very beginning of her scattered and bereft writing.

'To my dearest, Aemond' – either by crude mistake or heinous design, she'd flicked her wrist right after dearest, drawing out a bold and elongated pause, that hence consumed his wakened days.

It must have taken her no more than seconds to descend her quill upon the page, yet for Aemond, the mundane piece of calligraphy became his most burdensome slither of hope.

Before he could catch himself in his lustful daze, the Prince brought the letter to his lips, and kissed over the dried ink with devotion untoward, accelerating his ministrations as he pressed into it harder.

He pictured her alone and writing, enraptured by the dead of night, dressed up in her modest nightdress, and her hair loose from her bun. She must have made some able pauses, to glance up at the moon, perhaps, or sigh in puckered concentration.

Had she shared with him everything that was on her mind back then? Or did she hold her secrets in, choosing instead to only hint at all that they had left unspoken?

Did she also think of him, as he nightly thought of her, and in her attempts to clear her head, brought her hand out to her ruddy pearl? And did she dare to rub it gently as sinful fantasies of him emerged?

Did he plague her every thought – visited them, at the very least, nestling inside her mind, as she so oftenly did to him?

His unanswered plethora of questions only fed into his fire. His hips began to move languidly against his hand, and the familiar licks of release beckoned in his tired loins. But fucking his hand would never come close to how he envisioned fucking her would be like. How tight and welcoming her cunt must be, how she herself was so untouched, so pure, unaware of the pleasures he alone could make her go through.

How breathlessly she’d gasp against him, and leave her lascivious mark over his skin, in the form of clawed-out patterns, adorning his pale and muscled back. He would return her favour in kind, pressing himself deeper inside her, molding her warmth to the shape of his cock, leaving bruising kisses over her breasts and neck and claiming her – over and over, again and again.

His. His, his, his and his alone.

Propriety be damned, he’d have her. Ensure she’d never leave his bed thereafter.

She’d make for a fantastic mother, he caught himself thinking with abhorrence, and a new heat wave of pleasure enveloped his arched, unyielding back.

His despair reached new peaks of torture, as his mind led him to the memory of her crouching form, playing with Helaena’s twins, with such a pliant and kind smile upon her agonizing lips. How she’d chase them through the royal gardens, how the sun would catch her hair aflame…

Often during the long nights of winter, he’d shut himself inside his chambers, and touch himself repeatedly with the oils gifted from Aegon – with only that specific recollection playing tricks inside his mind.

Whilst elating her as his wife inside his head, the man slumped further into the bed, focusing on working his shaft up and down in blinding delight.

Her voice, her laughter, her handwriting and eyes – so wide and curious and always ready to look upon him, to really see him for who he was. She’d been the only one who never glanced directly at his scar. She’d focus in on his remaining eye, and listen to what he had to say. Intently. Remarkably so. She would remember his favourite book, the passages he’d read her last, and would partake in conversation – urging him to share his thoughts.

His climax neared him closer still, and Viserys’s second son focused on fucking his fist at a wilder pace than done before. Droplets of precum rolled down his cock, as forming sweat coated his brow. A final swipe of his rough thumb over the tip of his manhood, and a tender caress of his tightened stones was all it took for the man to drive himself over the edge, and feel the warmth inside his chest spread across his lower body.

He hissed painfully into the open letter, spending all over his chest and stomach and spilling her name from his parted lips.

He heaved out one breath after the other, and gingerly ran his hand over the written testament of her thoughts. He wanted to curse the Gods for making him so, for giving him the thirst for knowledge of a man fitting his station, but the crass bashfulness of a ruddy stable boy.

For the first time in his life, Aemond wished he were born different. A softer and more patient man, who’d find himself worthy of her; one more handsome, courageous and outspoken – a man who could express his feelings, without so much as a second thought, who didn't allow hesitation and carelessness to break his strengthened up resolve.

He ached to tell her all the things he’d left unsaid, when he saw her leave his sight. That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong – but not so wrong that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without exactly meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near.

That love within him laced with doubt. Longing with predestined pain. That he prayed night after night, obsessively, tentatively, that she’d grant him passage into her life again – that whatever held her from speaking to him would absolve itself with time, and he’d finally be free again.

Free to love her from afar, to revel in the bottled hope she’d grant him with the lightest touch, the faintest smile, and the most mundane of glances.

To delve further into the sweet delusion that mayhaps she'd learn to love him. That somehow he’d be deemed to be enough.

As he stood there, unmoving in his very bed, his warm seed rolled off his stomach, staining onto the silken sheets. A long sigh escaped his lips, and Aemond propped himself onto his elbow, cleaning the mess he’d left behind.

His want for her ran hard and deep, and the Crown Prince tensed once more, feeling his stomach tighten in such familiar hot knots of pleasure, that his cock went stiff again. He hummed in admission of his solitary fate and reached for the sinful oils with a shaky and extended hand. Through the musings of a quiet moan, he aligned his hips to his waiting hand, preparing to grant himself the second peak of his cursed and debauchered morning.

Alas, a lacklustre knock put an end to his self-indulgence, and Aemond stifled back a groan. He swallowed up his lust with haste, pushing himself back into his linen breeches and off the ruined satin bed – running a hand through the forming mats of his silver hair, to make himself seem more presentable.

Frustration and madness welled up within him, but he merely sucked in an irritated breath, whilst grabbing forth a shirt to adequately front himself.

“Yes, what is it?” His shaky voice barks out for him. He listens intently for any noise outside his door, and a great displeasure settles in his gut, as the voice of a servant boy echoes through the quiet walls.

“A letter for you, Your Grace. I beg your pardon for disrupting you –”

Readily he jumps out of his bed. And as if burned, as if possessed, Aemond opens the door with a readiness unperturbed, descending his anger onto the poor, expecting boy. The letter rests upon a silver platter, shaken with the messenger’s panicked voice. The Tully emblem that seals over a vast calligraphy drives the Prince to the brink of hysteria, and the Targaryen grabs a hold of the boy’s bouched shirt, pushing him further down into the hall.

“When.” He questions breathlessly, “When did the letter arrive.”

“L-Last night, Your Grace – near the hour of the wolf –”

A feral scowl settles over his sharp features. Aemond takes a step forward, tightening his fist over the cheap material, and calmly professes to the whimpering boy.

“For waiting so long to bring it to me, I should have you flogged and executed.”

The child's blabbering reaches deafened ears, as Aemond reaches for the letter crassly presented to him, and offers the youth a pressing look.

“Get out of my sight, before I should make the call of feeding you to my dragon.”

A clumsy courtesy is followed by a tantalised “Your Grace”. The echo of footsteps gets lost through the depths of the narrow hallway, and the man hums absentmindedly, before shutting himself inside his room again.

He wants to rip the envelope in a violent and perusing fashion, but his first instinct is to trail over the paper gently, to run his digits where her hands had been, to touch the edges of her writings with such a desire to be close to her that it scared him.

In a slow and gentle act, he peeled her seal away from the pesky parchment, and sucked in a hectic breath, as he scanned the contents he’d so longly dreamt about.

His hope shattered as rapidly as it came. And Aemond nearly ripped the letter, as his heart clenched painfully inside his chest.

To Aemond,

I thought about what I might say, and word it out in such a way that won’t leave you perplexed or angered.

I think it’s best for us to move along, and stop with these childish musings, that have hence occupied our time since I moved from the Red Keep.

I will forever cherish our acquaintanceship and hold your friendship in the highest regard. But I am a woman grown now – you, a man in all his right –, and we must both start to think about the survival of our families.

Please do not send me any more letters, as I won’t reply to them, and focus instead on your best interests.

The Lady Tully of Riverrun

His feet carried him close to his bed, as he grabbed a hold of her first note. Desperately, he began searching for differences – in the means that it was written, in the handwriting he’s known since his early adolescence, in the marginal and flimsy paper.

The sting of rejection fell heavily over his shoulders, but rationale trumped his crushed spirits – for there must have been something, anything inside the new communication, that would explain its fabrication.

It was impossible those were her words. She’d never been a jousting woman – never regarded her tens of suitors as less than wanting, for the simple fact she didn’t desire them. She would have let him down more softly. She wouldn’t throw away his company.

Contentment can emerge in the quietness of separation, but their friendship endured years of scorn from the gossips of the Court. Her good opinion of him just couldn’t have changed so suddenly.

A final reach entered his mind, as he folded the paper roughly, and settled it atop his table.

If those were truly her words within that letter, and she wanted him to keep his distance, she’d have to tell him to his face.

More than a week had passed since she’d sent him her first letter. A week since she’d awaited his reply, inquiring every messenger within the castle on the arrival of a straying raven, all the way from the Red Keep.

In spite of her avid efforts, each day repeated the same encounter without so much of a hitch – the scrawny boys shaking their heads, as they ceaselessly informed her that nothing addressed to her has reached the tower of the West Wing.

Since then she’d sent out two more hurried manuscripts, despite never once being graced with a reply. All hope seemed lost when she’d woken up that very day and was still met with livid silence.

Through all their years of rapid friendship, Aemond had never ignored her so. As she cut into her plate, the Lady gnawed at her bottom lip, thinking hard on what possibly could have happened to make him turn so cold towards her.

If her status quo were any different, she’d have taken the Red Fork road on horseback, to reach King’s Landing, and confront her oldest friend on the reasons for his dreaded silence.

But her grandsire had fallen ill, and little to no progress was made on his state of brittle health. Her duty thus assigned her to the Riverlands, despite her need of seeing him.

“You have been very quiet, sweet girl.” The husky voice of Grover Tully echoed through the silent chamber. The girl’s cutlery stilled upon the half-full plate, and her eyes raised from her lap, clashing with the stilling blueness, the knowing assessment of his own.

“Apologies, grandfather,” She uttered rapidly with a forced smile upon her face, “My mind was otherwise engaged.”

“As it has been for the past week.” He concluded with a quirked-up brow. The softness in his gaze enveloped her, giving her a rapid sense of security, and her grandfather coughed in the back of his hand, drawing a pattern over the motifs of their tablecloth.

“I suppose I miss some aspects of King’s Landing. I have spent most of my youth there… – though the Riverlands are just as beautiful.” She was quick to intervene.

“Is King’s Landing all that you miss, or is it a certain boy from there?”

Her bright orbs widened with her grandfather’s suggestive tone, and her cheeks reddened in place, as her voice denied it brashly, “Certainly not, I – Aemond and I are friends.”

“It might seem like a long while has passed since then, but I’ve also been young once.”

When her reply was met with sarcasm, she swallowed thickly and drove on, “We are… really good friends, but that is all.” Once again, her stare dissolved, “Though… I’m not sure we’re exactly friends anymore.”

A knowing look adorned his face, and Grover turned his attention to the family crest above their heads. He took a while to pounder, thinking longly on a vast reply, but he eventually nodded to her, and graced the child with an unperturbed, brilliant smile. “I’m sure the Prince is very busy – as are you, my sweet child. Men, and young men especially…” He muttered the latter of his teachings, “Aren’t exactly prone to sentimentality. Not in the way that women are.”

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as his words rang in her ears.

But not Aemond, she wanted to say. He was hardly like the other men she knew – he could be kind and good and comforting. He cared for her, and for their friendship. He wouldn’t just ignore her, just for the sake of not being overly attached to writing.

Although she couldn’t possibly say such a thing – for then her grandsire’s teasing would have been a certain. The girl made herself busy cutting up a piece of meat in carefully drawn-out halves, until she beckoned a reply.

“Indeed. … You’re right, I should stop being so concerned.” She strained herself to answer him. The older man hummed disconcerted, and returned upon his plating. They continued eating in silence, till he mauled himself to tell her.

“... I know how hard this is for you. But our family depends on you. I had to bring you back to Riverrun, to get the other Lords used to the image of a woman in our ancestral seat.”

“Gods, of course, grandfather – and for that, I’m more than thankful.”

Grover raised a shaky hand, and cut her off with a gentle smile, “You do understand… as much as we both hate the idea, I’ll have to soon match you with someone.”

She gripped the goblet of wine before her, and wet her lips with the bitter liquor. “... Of course I do. It is my duty.”

“Your claim will be stronger with an able man around. And if the Gods are good and you also bear a son…”

“I know.” She sighed into the ample cup, “My claim would be thus undisputed.”

“Aemond was not the right match for you.”

The girl bit over her lower lip, wanting to both negate her feelings, and contest upon his honoured values. But she simply nodded to the greying Lord before her and offered a lacklustre smile.

“Perhaps a change of scenery will do you good. I was thinking that you might like the Reach better than the Riverlands... Lyonel Tyrell is an especially kind and thoughtful host.”

A relocation was the last thing on her mind, no doubt, but the Bliss of Riverrun turned her attention to the latter of his eversion.

“Visit the Reach? You think of marrying me off to the boy of Highgarden? … He’s not yet fourteen.”

Silence washed over their council.

“Boys grow swiftly into men. I'm assured he'll be a good one for you."

“He’s a child.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“It still makes for quite the difference.”

“You won’t have to mother children until he’ll also come of age. It gives you three more years of freedom – other ladies would kill for a faction of what you have.”

“I don’t like the finality of your words."

A long and pressing breath beleft his pale and tired lips.

“I couldn’t send you to the North. Jason Lannister has no sons. The Greyjoys are ghastly savages.” As he presented her his trail of thought, Grover Tully shook his head, “And the Targaryens…”

“You’re childhood friends with King Viserys. A match would not befall our rank." She slipped and added restlessly, much like a frail and foolish child. Even before he could answer her, his granddaughter raised her hand, as she brushed off her latter thought. “A succession crisis will ensue.” The young woman muttered in his stead.

“I’m old – I’ve seen disputes start from less. But here we’re talking of the Iron Throne.”

“You think a war is in its midst.”

A cutting silence washed over them. Grover lifted first from the dinner table and breathed in an anxious breath.

“I pray for the sake of the Realm that such a thing will not take root.”

The languid fires of their threshold illuminated her conflicted face.

“Then it’s a good thing Aemond didn't bother to reply to my letters.”

For but a second, Grover’s face was etched with guilt.

“We all have to protect our own.” Sometimes the means in which we do it are less honourable than we'd wish to.

For all that was worth on that rousy and portentous night, her fate had been agreed upon. And ever the loyal and oppressed servant, the young lady of the Riverlands left with the first callings of dawn, for the impetuous and striking gardens, which were kept inside the Reach.

She would then leave, with her soul and heart all torn to pieces – yet still completely unaware that she’d never see Aemond again.

Never, at the very least, to how she’d known him to have been.

His wide and calculated steps led him to the stronghold’s gates. So easily it came for him to pass the cluttered training grounds, and disregard Ser Criston Cole with a mere shake of his head.

Above all else, he thought it then, he needed to feel his love again. He needed to hold her near once more, and ask all the outlandish questions he endured inside his head, counting for so much of his weakened days. He needed to reach a resolution, after being disregarded for so long. He needed the closure that her voice could offer him, that her mouth would utter out – that this had all been a grave mistake on her behalf, that the note never belonged to her, that she loved him as he loved her, and had merely been scared of it.

His morning session could very well await him, as he so viciously awaited the perfect chance to get away.

Two days away from the arrival of the pesky letter, Aemond had finally managed to slither unperturbed from his neat and tidy prison. Neither his mother nor grandsire had caught him in the act of it, Aegon had been too drunk to notice him dress up for a morning ride, and Helaena had solely clicked her tongue and scowled at him.

As he anxiously secured the belts of his dragon’s saddle, the man hummed in disarray – Riverrun was but a short flight away, but the despair he felt to hold her inside his arms again trumped over his better senses.

With any luck, he figured, she should still be found in bed. His love had never been an early riser, and she loathed getting out of bed in the damning morning light.

He didn’t waste time figuring out pleasantries to share with Grover – much less the words needed to explain his unprompted visit.

His sole purpose was to get to her, ask for her hand, make her his wife and forever be done with it.

He had the biggest claim to her – a Prince bonded with the largest dragon in the world, the one who’d seen and grown with her so many years inside the Keep.

The command of flying was given to his formidable dragon, and the Prince took off for the Trident's three heads.

Hopefulness emerged with unforsaked determination – but as his actions would dictate him from then on out, his efforts would be all for nought, torn apart in stinging vain.

Perma Tag-List: @welcometothelioncage

Specific Tag-List for the Fic: @howyouloveyourdragon @diamantesprincess @carriellie

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 2

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC),other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Not too much. A mention of recurring nightmares, some talk of fears.

Word Count: 4,240

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Thank you SO much to everyone who was so kind and gave such a lovely reception to the first chapter of the series. I hope you enjoy this new chapter too! ❤️

Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers used here were created by @saradika .

The big, wide log cabin seemed so completely empty after Dean Winchester left, as though his presence alone was what had filled it.

The blue-eyed man - Castiel - ran after him quickly, shouting an order to a guard outside to let no one go in. 

So Y/N sat completely still, listening to the muffled sounds of camp life happening on the other side of the pine walls. Her exhausted brain was trying to comprehend what had happened, trying to piece it all together.

The first person she'd encountered had been the woman, Risa. She and another soldier had been guarding the border of the camp when Y/N and Emma finally stumbled out of the forest.

Y/N was fairly certain she would have been shot on site if Emma hadn't been there. Instead, their hesitation gave her the chance to swear up and down that, despite appearances, she wasn't a Croat.

The two soldiers had eye-balled each other and Risa had finally told the other guard to stay at the outpost. 

“The Boss is still out on the raid. I'm taking them to Castiel.”

She'd pulled the heavy chains and manacles out of the guard post shack, and brought Y/N, cuffed and bound, to see Castiel. She’d met with him in the big cabin, tying Y/N to the table and then explaining things to him. He'd seemed a bit out of it at first, but then seemed to sober up quickly when Risa explained the situation to him a second time. Then he examined Y/N and made her tell him the story again. His face got progressively more dumbstruck as she spoke.

When he was informed that the Boss was back, he'd told Risa to take Emma away somewhere safe while they all talked.

Now, in the big, lonely cabin Y/N had to shake her head. She’d been so certain, in the end, that she was going to die. But Dean had walked away and left her breathing.

Just another miracle that somehow kept her alive for one more day.

The evening wore on and the light began to disappear, leaving only a dusky blue twilight inside the cabin. She didn't like the night time and the dark. It was a fear that had started with the poltergeist when she was sixteen - when every time she turned off the light and closed her eyes, something evil emerged to cause her pain and terrorize her in the dark.

Before long, the very last of the twilight left the room, and unknown, unkind darkness loomed all around her, and she began to feel the panic rising. But suddenly, just before it could take hold completely, Dean strode through the door, carrying a bright lantern that banished the dark. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to see him in spite of everything.

He moved to stand directly in front of her, almost exactly where he stood when he’d elected not to shoot her. She looked up at him and gave a slight smile, not knowing what else she could do. Then she thought to ask the question foremost on her mind.

“Can I see Emma? I'd like her to know I'm safe.”

“No.” He said, shooting down the request without hesitation. He moved over to a metal folding chair that sat at the end of one of the tables and pointed at it.

“I'm gonna sit right here, all night, not sleeping. And if you so much as twitch? I promise I'll put you down.”

Y/N still couldn't help but appreciate the light he'd brought in for her, and the fact that she was still breathing, so she gave another half smile. “Okey dokey.”

He looked briefly taken aback by her response before his scowl returned. He plunked himself down on the chair and folded his arms across his chest, sitting up ramrod straight. It didn't look very comfortable.

But then, her spot on the hard floor, chained to the table, wasn't all that comfy either. But she decided she was grateful that the length of the chain allowed her to comfortably move her arms around. That was something.

She leaned back against the wide metal leg of the table and tried to relax. But soon her active mind was wandering and she stole a glance at Dean, wondering about how very different he was now. Of course twelve years was a long time in the best of circumstances. Twelve years spent fighting monsters and battling through an apocalypse was bound to change a person. 

As she stared at him he turned his head and caught her at it outright. She blushed slightly and decided to cover with a question. “Can I see Emma tomorrow?”

“No.” Dean said before going back to staring at the far wall.

His outright refusal was frustrating. But she worried that arguing with him might be considered “twitching”, so she kept her mouth closed.

The silence stretched out again and made Y/N antsy. She was used to Emma’s little-girl-babbling, her singing, and just her general five-year-old noisiness. The camp was mostly silent on the other side of the wall as well, only the crickets could be heard, playing their creaky songs.

Her eyes once again settled on the only interesting thing in the room, Dean. She tried to be less obvious about staring this time, but realized she’d failed when he spoke harshly without looking in her direction.

“Why are you staring at me?” His voice was full of annoyance.

“I’m not.” She said quickly and unconvincingly.

He finally looked at her and his face was cold and angry. She remembered that he used to have a really bright, beautiful smile. 

“Why can’t I see Emma?” She asked, aware she was probably pushing buttons she shouldn't.

Dean ignored her and slowly looked away again. Y/N huffed out an angry puff of air and despite her worries about riling him, decided to argue. “She’s my daughter. I just want to make sure she’s okay, and let her know that I’m okay too.”

He remained silent and Y/N’s voice became desperate. “Please!”

Dean swung his head back to look at her angrily. “Look, I’m probably going to end up shooting you. When that happens, do you want her to have to go through all of it again? Or worse, have her sitting in the room when you turn and I have to take you out?”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, but she shook her head. “No.” She said softly.

Dean lifted his hand and then dropped it, looking away again. “So okay. Then shut up about it.”

Y/N was only a little offended and sighed slowly. After being quiet for a minute she spoke with another frustrated sigh. 

“Okay, but do we just have to sit here? This is boring.” Her eyes lit up slightly. “We could play twenty questions.”

Dean looked back at her and his expression was finally registering as something other than angry or blank. He obviously thought she was nuts. 

She shrugged. “Just to pass the time.” When he just continued to stare, she shook her head. “No? How ‘bout the alphabet game?”

Dean’s perplexed expression fell back into his usual scowl but Y/N trudged on anyway. “The alphabet game is where you pick a subject, like countries of the world, or 80s action movies or something, and then go back and forth, each having to come up with something that matches the next letter. Like if I said ‘Action Jackson’, you’d say…’Beverly Hills Cop’, then I’d say-”

“Shut. Up.” Dean said succinctly. His mossy green eyes were dark, and quiet frustration oozed out of him.

Y/N slumped back against the table leg. “Sorry. I talk when I'm nervous, and when I’m bored. So, it’s a double whammy here. Hence the motor mouth.”

“Go to sleep.” Dean said in a clipped tone.

“I have too much adrenaline for sleep. I WAS almost shot today, after all.”

Dean’s jaw clenched before he looked away from her again and leaned back slightly in the chair. “If you don’t shut up and go to sleep I may change my mind about the ‘almost’ part.” 

Y/N bit her lip trying to suppress a giggle as exhaustion and adrenaline combined with her twisted sense of humor. The result was a loud snort that had Dean once again looking at her like she was nuts.

She smiled at him, wishing he’d smile back, and shared the movie quote that was tickling her funny bone. 

“Good night, Westley. Good work, sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

When Dean just stared at her silently, she shook her head. “Princess Bride? No? It’s a classic.” 

She swore she saw his hand move towards the holster on his thigh and she raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll be quiet now.”

Dean stared a while longer at her and she wondered if he really was contemplating shooting her, until he finally looked away and settled himself more comfortably in the chair.

She sighed. It was gonna be a long night.

***

Y/N was floating down a river in a little canoe. Emma was sitting across from her and talking to her, though she was still a baby. 

“We’re lost, Mommy.” She said and Y/N shook her head. She had to keep her baby safe and that included keeping her safe from the truth.

“No we’re okay, baby.” Y/N said as the river got choppy and sharp rocks jutted out, waiting for them around every bend. They careened straight towards one, and Y/N could do nothing to steer the canoe around it; the one oar she had was mostly turning her in circles. They smashed into the rocks and the boat began filling with water.

“Mommy, the water is coming up.” Said Baby Emma. “We’re gonna drown.”

“No, we won’t baby. I won’t let us.”

Y/N tried to scoop the water out with her hands, but it was just too fast. They were sinking. Y/N grabbed for Emma but the baby began to float away. 

“Emma!” Y/N called out to her daughter as she floated farther and farther away. But even though she was almost a mile away, Y/N could still hear her little voice right in her ear.

“You lost me, mommy. I can’t come back, I’m lost.”

“No! I didn’t!” Y/N cried out, jerking awake.

The cabin had sunshine pouring in through the east-facing windows. It was morning, she was alive, and so was Emma, she reassured herself, she was just out somewhere in the camp. Her recurring nightmare could be left in the shadows. She took a deep breath and looked over at Dean. He was staring intensely at her. She raised her hands.

“Sorry, not ‘twitching’, just a bad dream.”

Dean still didn’t blink. It was unnerving. “Did you really not sleep at all?” Y/N asked.

“Said I wouldn’t.”

Y/N took in his posture in the chair, straight and alert; he’d barely moved an inch all night. It made her smile and shake her head.

“Huh.”

Dean’s scowl was firmly in place. “What?” He questioned.

Y/N shrugged. “No, nothing. It’s just good to see that things haven’t changed much, after all.”

Dean scoffed. “Woman, everything in the world has changed.” He looked away from her. “And it just keeps changing every day.”

“Maybe,” Y/N conceded. “But yet here you are, all these years later, and you’re still protecting people.” 

His head swung back towards her and he seemed offended. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Y/N lifted a manacled wrist and gestured beyond the cabin. “You sat up all night, in what I can only assume to be the world’s most uncomfortable chair, to make sure that everyone in the camp was safe from a potential monster.” She shrugged again. “Because you’re still protecting people.”

“That is not what this is.” Dean said angrily, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

“No.” Dean reiterated. “I am the leader of this camp, and leaders do their own dirty work. If you turn, I’m gonna be the one to shoot you.”

“To save your soldiers having to do it.” Y/N said with a nod. 

“No!” Dean barked. It surprised her that he was so angry about what she was saying. It was obvious to her. The hunter she’d known may have turned into a soldier, may have gotten a little harder, but from everything she’d seen, he was still Dean Winchester underneath.

His face was a snarl now, though. “Look, I don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of benevolent nursemaid here.” Dean tried to explain. “Everyone in camp has jobs, has their roles. It’s how we’ve all survived so far. My role is to keep the camp guarded. And I do that so everyone else can perform their roles. It’s simply a matter of survival. If you turn into a Croat and start killing folks, that lowers our numbers, makes us all more vulnerable. That’s all this is. So don’t go thinking I’m some kind of bleeding heart. When the time comes, I will take you down.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Okay.” She said calmly. She didn’t really believe a word of it. But she wouldn’t argue with his need to make her see him as deadly. 

“I mean it. I won’t hesitate.” Dean said coldly.

“But,” Y/N looked at him and gave a small smile, “you already did. Hesitate, I mean.”

Dean’s jaw ticked. “Are you taunting me?” His voice was low and very menacing. 

Y/N raised her hands, making the chains rattle. “No!” She denied vehemently. “I’m not taunting you, I’m thanking you. That hesitation saved my life.”

Dean’s glare was hot and angry. “Well, like I told you, things change real quick these days, so don’t tempt me.”

He turned away from her again and Y/N lowered her hands. His attitude was not what she’d expected. He honestly seemed insulted that she’d implied that he was a good man who made it his mission to keep people safe.

Silence descended again, until Y/N began shifting around, noisily rattling her chains. 

“Stay still.” Dean barked without looking at her.

“I can’t.” Y/N said, slightly embarrassed. “I…I have to…pee.”

Dean turned to look at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Go ahead.” 

Y/N’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew.” When Dean made no move to rectify the situation, she let out an annoyed huff. “Do you at least have a bucket?”

Dean continued to stare at her for a long time, before calling out. “Johnston!”

A thin man holding a rifle stepped in the door. He’d clearly been standing just outside. “Yes sir?”

“I need your help with the latrine.”

“Sir?” The young man’s face was confused and Y/N snorted out a laugh. 

Dean shot her a dirty look. “Shut up.” He ordered. She bit her lip to stifle her smile. 

He turned back to the soldier. “With her, Johnston.” He said, pointing at Y/N. “I need help taking her to the latrines. I’m gonna hold her chains, so I need you to keep a gun on her.”

“Oh!” The man was clearly very relieved. “Yes sir.”

Dean stood up and took a key from the inside pocket of his green canvas jacket, bending to unlock the padlock that kept Y/N attached to the table. He pulled her to her feet and she stumbled into him, her legs being slightly wobbly and asleep from her uncomfortable position.

“Sorry.” She said, suddenly shy as she stood so near him. She looked up into his face and was slightly mesmerized by his shining emerald eyes and the dusting of freckles on his cheeks. He really was remarkably beautiful, moreso today than when he’d come to save her all those years ago.

Dean just grunted and stepped back, holding her thick chains in his big hand easily. He took the lead, his long strides forcing her to jog along behind him or risk being dragged all the way.

The camp was still just waking up and she could smell coffee brewing around the campfires where people sat sleepily rubbing their eyes and then popping them wide open as the strange procession passed by them. She tried to smile at them, but the fear on their faces made her remember her bloodshot eyes, and she lowered her head. They probably thought their leader had gone crazy, dragging a Croat around on a leash.

After a few minutes of walking they reached a row of outhouses, plain but well built. Dean pointed to the one on the end of the row and Y/N went in. She stopped just inside the door, looking back at Dean.

“Are you going to let go of the chain?”

“No.”

She frowned and waved her hand at the wooden door. “I can’t close the door if the chain is in the way.”

Dean just shrugged in answer.

Y/N’s face was imploring. “Come on.”

Dean said nothing.

Y/N gritted her teeth. “Well could you at least look the other way?”

“No.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out a little growl of frustration. “For pete’s sake, I am in chains, and you’re holding on to them! Where the hell am I gonna go if you look away for a minute?”

Dean stared at her a moment longer before finally, begrudgingly, turning his head. 

“Thanks.” Y/N mumbled, trying to pull the door over as far as it would go with the chain stopping it. 

When she was finished, she came out with pink cheeks. There was no way both men hadn’t heard her peeing. There were definitely some real indignities involved in people thinking you were a monster.

When they got back to the cabin, Dean was locking Y/N back up to the table, crouched down beside her, when her stomach rumbled from hunger. He ignored it, double checking her manacles before walking out and leaving Johnston watching over her with his rifle.

A few minutes later though, a young girl, probably no more than thirteen, came in with a bowl of oatmeal and some canned oranges. She also had a cold glass of water on the tray and Y/N groaned out loud. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she saw it there. Her groan seemed to startle the girl who was approaching Y/N with considerable trepidation.

Y/N tried smiling again, knowing there was nothing she could do to change her bloodshot eyes, but hoping she could still show kindness in them. 

“Hi.” She said softly. “My name is Y/N, what’s yours?”

“Theresa.” The girl said, as she came a little closer. “Boss told mom to make you some breakfast and she sent me to bring it.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you so much. It smells delicious. Tell your mother I said thank you as well.”

Theresa nodded back and finally came up beside her to set the tray within reach on the floor. Then she scuttled away quickly and Y/N tucked into the food. The oatmeal was slightly stale and plain with nothing to go in it, but it was warm and filling and the oranges were sweet and juicy despite their slightly tinny taste. It was the best meal she’d had in well over a week and she was grateful to Dean, the man who didn’t care about anyone, for providing it for her.

She hoped Emma was eating well this morning too, and that she was somehow coping with everything. She closed her eyes and tried to send her daughter strength.

The next few days passed much in the same way. Dean would watch her every night, assuring her that he was watching for any signs she was turning. But a couple days in, she woke up in the night to see his head slumped onto his chest, exhaustion finally winning out over any remaining fears he had of her changing.

On her fifth morning, Dean was locking her back up to the table after a visit to the latrines (during which he now allowed her to take the chain in with her and shut the door), when he swore and grabbed onto her right hand. He pushed the manacle up further on her arm and examined her wrist where it had been rubbed raw on the underside.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Y/N shrugged. “Didn’t hurt that much, and I figured you wouldn’t care, you know, if you were still figuring on shooting me.” She said with a teasing smile.

Dean gave her his usual dirty look. “Yeah well, I wouldn’t want you to die of sepsis before I get the chance.”

He called to Patrick whose turn it was to guard the cabin for that morning. When the red-headed man stepped inside, Dean told him to bring a first aid kit from the medical tent. When Patrick left, Dean pulled another key from inside his jacket and unlocked the manacle on Y/N’s right hand.

Her arm felt strange without the extra weight of the manacle and chain. Dean checked her other wrist, satisfied that she only had the one wound. When Patrick returned with the first aid kit, Dean began cleaning the raw spot on Y/N’s grubby skin. 

As he worked, Theresa came in with Y/N’s breakfast. She pulled up short when she saw Dean there, since he was usually gone by the time she came in. Y/N tried to encourage her forward. 

“Thank you, Theresa. Don’t worry, your boss is just fixing up a scratch on my wrist. You can still bring breakfast over.”

The girl hesitated before moving over to Y/N and setting the tray on the floor. “Have you seen Emma today?” Y/N asked. 

Most of the time, she tried desperately not to think about what her daughter was going through. If she were to dwell on it too long it would drive her mad. As it was, the nightmare of watching Emma float away from her, was coming two or three times a night now.

The girl looked afraid to answer with Dean there and kept glancing over at him, clearly nervous. “It’s okay.” Y/N reassured her again. “Please, how is she?” Y/N asked, aware that desperation laced her voice.

Theresa looked up at Y/N, her big brown eyes far too wise for a thirteen year old girl.

“Sad.” She said simply before standing and scurrying out of the room.

Y/N felt like a knife was twisting in her gut. She closed her eyes and tried to stop her tears from falling, but simply couldn’t. Two fat tears fell down her cheeks as she stared into her lap. Without saying anything, Dean tied a bandage around her injured wrist before tying more gauze around her uninjured left wrist, protecting it from the rough metal.

He cleaned up the first aid kit and left without a word. It was a few minutes before Y/N realized he hadn’t re-manacled her right wrist.

All that day it felt as though a heavy stone sat in her stomach. She barely touched her breakfast (an egg and some sliced fried potatoes) and didn’t have a bite of lunch. She felt terrible wasting the food and insisted Patrick eat it. It tasted like ash to her and she simply couldn’t swallow. All she could think about was Emma and how she was hurting.

Her ability to compartmentalize her pain and fear was breaking down as worry and heartbreak took over everything. 

That evening, Dean showed up earlier than usual. He walked right up to her and, kneeling beside her, unlocked her other manacle so that she was free of the chains at last. She gave him a quizzical look.

“What are you doing?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s been nearly a week that you’ve been here and almost two weeks since you got bit.” His usual scowl was highlighted by confusion in his green gaze. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but it seems increasingly unlikely that you’re gonna start foaming at the mouth any time soon, so…”

He stood up and moved away, nodding to someone outside. Risa stepped through the door and behind her, holding her hand, was Emma.

Y/N gave out a loud cry of surprise, too many emotions flooding her at once to articulate any actual words. She tried to leap to her feet, but ended up stumbling back to her knees as Emma launched herself at her.

“Mommy!” Emma’s tears and sobs soon choked anymore words out of her as well. 

Y/N wrapped her daughter up tightly in her arms. “Oh, baby, baby!” She buried her face in her daughter's long hair, squeezing her too hard, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been so terrified she’d never get a chance to hold her again, so she savored the moment briefly before turning her head to where Dean was standing by the door.

Her throat was choked, but she pushed the words out. “Thank you. Thank you.” It was all she could say.

Dean didn’t respond and just walked out the door.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @deangirl96

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[sbdskate]

Laws of Attraction (Part 3) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, NSFW for a hot sec

Word Count: 2,604

A/N: It’s been a while! I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, work/life took over. Thank you everyone who read Parts 1 and 2, and thank you for your patience. I realize there is likely going to be a part 4, and given the ~significant~ break I apologize for the cliff hanger. Friendly reminder that this is still new to me, so I appreciate any and all feedback both positive and constructive. Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

You were thankful for the two-week break, again hoping the distance would subdue your growing crush. Much to your dismay, you had inceptioned yourself. The seed of physical attraction developed into more despite every attempt to nip it in the bud. To make matters worse, he texted you twice a day every day while you were away: one work related and one miscellaneous – a cute dog he saw cross the street, a yummy meal he had, a song he thought you might like, other general statements of opinion. Eventually the latter turned into plans for the U.S. grand prix. You didn’t quite understand his fascination with the whole cowboy americana aesthetic, perhaps because you grew up in the states so you were disillusioned to it. But it made him happy which you found endearing. He had asked for your input when he was undecided on which boots to get, and excitedly texted you pictures of an American flag bomber jacket and ostentatious belt buckles. You shot him with a few pleasant but short responses, whatever sparks joy or love that journey for you. Two days before press day though, you received a message that made you question your entire career path.  

DR: Can I bring a horse to press day? You blinked a few times at your phone.

Y/N: To clarify, you want me to research FiA rules to see if you can bring a horse to the paddock and I will get paid for that time?

DR: Yes [insert horse emoji]

You swore this would be your last celebrity client. You couldn’t believe you went to law school for this.

Y/N: Yes, you can bring a horse. It just needs a badge pass like any other guest which you would need to submit 24 hrs in advance.

DR: What if you don’t know the horse’s name?

Y/N: Press day is in two days and you don’t actually have a horse?

This was by far the strangest client interaction you had ever had. First you were in disbelief from the initial question, and now here you were less than an hour later incredulous that your client didn’t actually have a horse lined up for his arrival to the circuit in forty-eight hours. Oh how the turn tables.  

DR: Well I just thought of the idea, so no.

Y/N: It’s a horse, Daniel. I’m pretty sure you can just make up a name, it’s not like it’s going to perjure itself.

So when you got there for press day in your pink suit, prepared for meetings with other teams to discuss reserve seats, it took everything in your power to keep a straight face as Daniel strode in on Horsey McHorseface, with handler and country singer in tow. As a human being with a soul, it was objectively hilarious and you loved that he gave zero fucks, understanding that this very well may be his farewell tour. As his attorney though, you wished he had gone something for a little more subtle. He tipped his cowboy hat and winked as he passed you. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, but your body was on fire. The whole stunt was absurdly corny, it shouldn’t have done anything for you and yet you were undeniably turned on.

You went about your respective days, yours’ filled with back-to-back team meetings. You should have been laser focused, but you struggled to maintain your composure as you fought off visions of Daniel’s mustache adorned face between your legs. You reconnected at the end of the day so the two of you could debrief to discuss your findings. You kept your eyes on your notes in the hopes that avoiding his gaze would keep fantasies of you riding him like a show pony at bay. Flashbacks of the gentle roll of his hips on the horse threatened your demeanor, but you pushed through. Thankful to have made it through the exchange with your dignity mostly intact, you made your way towards the door when you thought the meeting had ended. However, you realized Daniel wasn’t moving.

You waited in the doorway, turning to face him. “Are you coming?”

He paused. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

You closed the door again, thinking he had more questions about Red Bull or Mercedes. “You can ask me anything. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath. “…Do you want to come to the race on Sunday?”

You chuckled, assuming he was simply nervous about the race. “You know I come to all your races, it’s good facetime with the other teams.” You gave him a reassuring smile. Could you sense nerves?

“I know! Which is great. But I meant… as a guest. I thought maybe you could leave the work at home for a day. Consider it a thank you for all your hard work.”

“Oh.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mind went through every worst case scenario, trying to think of an out. You drew a blank.

“Oh what the heck. Twist my arm, I suppose I could swing it.” You did your best to suppress your eagerness, despite feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He grinned, but not before your phone rang. “Ah shoot it’s Joe. I gotta go, but I’ll see you Sunday!”

You passed Lando on your way out who suggestively wriggled his eyebrows at you, seeing both you and Daniel with dumb smiles plastered on your faces. You jokingly flipped him off as you continued your conversation with your boss.

-

You decided to leave the suits at home since you technically weren’t in client meetings. The Texas heat was oppressive – you wanted to be comfortable but not scandalous. You didn’t think the denim short/cowboy boot combo would be appropriate, and it really wasn’t your thing anyways. Instead you settled on a flowy yellow midi sundress. You stared at your work tote longer than you should have. Rarely did you go anywhere without it, you were paid handsomely in part because you were available 24/7. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed a small crossbody bag instead.

You made your way over to Daniel when you arrived at the paddock. He looked concerned as his eyes traveled over the crowds.  

“Everything ok?”

“Oh, I was just looking for my lawyer, not sure if you’ve seen her. She’s about yay-tall, wearing a stuffy suit.”

You wrinkled your nose at his jab at your casual outfit, you lightly shoved him. “Very funny. I know it’s shocking but I do own and wear other clothes when I’m not working.”

“I wasn’t aware you didn’t work,” he jested.

“If we’re being technical about it…I can still get emails on my phone.”

In the midst of a comfortable chuckle, his hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked you to where you would be watching the race. You felt electricity course through you at the soft touch. You debated on whether to remove it, but decided it was an innocent enough gesture.

You both stopped when you got to Lando and his girlfriend. Realizing who you would be enjoying the day with, the optics of all of this began to dawn on you. It was too late to back out now.

“Well, this is where I leave you. You two behave yourselves.”

“No promises!” Luisinha called after the boys. You gave Daniel a small smile and wave as they walked away, your confidence shrinking. Luisinha, a literal model, was even more stunning in person. Internalized insecurities you thought you moved past long ago made themselves comfortable in your mind. You were proud of the person you had grown into, inside and out. You were all about women supporting women and you knew you shouldn’t compare yourself to her, nor did you have any reason to. All the same, you felt small and insignificant next to her. It also made you realize even if you were not his lawyer, there was no way in a million years you had a shot with The Daniel Riccardo, charming world renown Formula 1 driver who had his choice of any woman on the planet.  

It was a humbling realization, which ultimately boded well for you. In setting your delusions aside, you resolved to have a lovely day of racing with hopefully a new friend and nothing more. You felt a calm rush over you and relished in the freedom that came without the weight of expectations.

You turned to Luisinha with a warm grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

-

Unfortunately, the good company did not translate to a good race. You were happy for Lando who placed a strong 6th, but with all the hype leading up to it, Daniel had only finished 16th. You heart broke for him as you waited by while he gave his post race interviews, his signature smile notably absent. He excused himself after the last interview, and you silently followed him. When you caught up, you found him sitting on the floor in quiet corridor, his back against the wall and his head in his hands. Saying nothing, you sat down next to him. The two of you remained like that for a while, a quiet understanding silently exchanged.

Eventually you check the time. The beginning of the weekend had held the promise of potential, with big plans to hit the town to match. But in a death by a thousand cuts, today’s race delt a final blow to the driver’s confidence. You were sure at this point a party of any kind was the last thing Daniel wanted. You cautiously broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about the race. We don’t have to do anything you’re not up for.”

He briefly hesitated, but weakly smiled for the first time since that morning. “Are you joking? I’m not passing up a chance to go out in my favorite city. I can rally, promise.”

You gave him a knowing glance, understanding he was putting on a brave face. What for, you couldn’t tell.

“Well, you have six hours left of work-free y/n. I’m at your disposal.”

“What happens in six hours?”

“I turn into a pumpkin,” you quipped. You bumped shoulders and smiled. With that, he stood up first and offered his hand to pull you to your feet. Without letting go, he started walking.

“Excuse me, where are we going?”

He chimed back with a line you had heard before: “I know a place.”

-

You ended up in a dive bar with some of the other drivers and their significant others. It was the first time you had met a lot of the others aside from Lando. Perhaps it was because they weren’t your clients, but you found yourself somewhat starstruck. It’s not that you hadn’t seen them around the paddock, but it felt like the first time you were truly brushing elbows with them. You were sure Lewis couldn’t have such flawless skin up close, nor could Carlos’ hair be so voluptuous, yet there they were in the flesh right next to you. You needed a drink to loosen up, and the McLaren crew had had a rough day. Coming in hot, you ordered a round of pickle back shots.

Luisinha was equally fascinated and disgusted. “What is this again? And why are there two? And why is one… green?”

“First you do the shot of whiskey, and then you chase it with a shot of pickle juice. The pickle juice neutralizes the burn from the whiskey and it has electrolytes so it’s kind of healthy!” She hesitantly sniffed the pickle juice and grimaced. You laughed, “Don’t ask questions, just drink. You’ll love it!”

A few more shots and beers later, your inhibitions had dissipated and you were dancing sloppily with Luisinha, feeling the base from the live band through the soles of your shoes. Work, for the first time in months, was the furthest thing from your mind. As you twirled and jumped and sang off key to your heart’s content, you failed to notice the familiar presence of your client approaching.

“Is it ok if I join? I come bearing gifts,” Daniel asked as he shimmied his way into your circle, handing out another round of beers. You can’t help the ear-to-ear smile that makes its way to your face.

“Come dance with us!” you shout over the sound of the bar. Luisinha raises an eyebrow. You both got along swimmingly during the race, and in that time you had clearly conveyed to her that you were Daniel’s lawyer and nothing more. “I’d get on that if I were you,” she teased at the time. You had laughed it off and dismissed it immediately. But seeing the two of you now with your rosy cheeks and lazy smiles, she was fully invested in stirring the pot.

The night’s debauchery continued, Luisinha secretly observing your exchanges. So when Lando tried talking to Daniel about race things, she not-so-discreetly intercepted.

“Honey, why don’t we go grab some more drinks?” Lando, clearly confused, was not picking up what she was putting down.

“What? But I just got us another rou-“  

“Pleeeaaase, I’m so thirsty I need some water!” At this point she simply grabbed his wrist and dragged him away, but not before throwing a wink in your direction.

In your drunken stupor, you weren’t exactly picking up what she was putting down either. All you knew was that you were having a blast. So you decided to keep dancing with Daniel, ignorant to the fact that the crowd had begun to thin. It started with the two of you attempting and failing miserably at line dancing. Which led to you trying to teach him square dancing that you learned in the fifth grade. You lost track of how many times you stepped on each other’s feet and between fits of laughter, you didn’t realize how your hands were comfortably intertwined or the distance between your bodies decreasing.  

He spun you away and back in. As you twirled into him a final time, your chests crashed into each other and your hand landed on his shoulder while his found its way to your waist. It was only in that moment with your faces inches apart that you became suddenly aware of your proximity. Feeling his breath tickle your face, you felt like your heart was going to beat its way out of your chest. Your gaze lowers to his plump lips then back to his eyes, counting the freckles. Your laughter slowed, unsure of what was so funny a minute ago.

You broke eye contact to look at the hand resting on his shoulder. What happened next felt like an eternity, but likely only lasted a few seconds. In one moment, you were relishing the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch and the warmth emanating from him, taking note of the rise and fall of your chests in unison, your pulse extending to the furthest reaches of your fingertips. Then, in a quick turn for the worst, your eyes fell to your wrist. According to your watch, you should’ve turned into a pumpkin two hours ago. The haze of the day and the bar and the alcohol lifted, reality quickly setting back in. In a sobering moment, you met his eyes again desperately trying to telecommunicate what you couldn’t put into words. Was he aware of the delicate bubble you two had created for yourselves? Did he realize how fragile it was? Did he know it just burst?

You stepped away from him. “I’m sorry,” was all you could muster before you turned and left.   

[thelovelyruin]

𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖆 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : toji x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : you just got back from college and your dad’s old friend is looking extra hot.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering, edging.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 5.6K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from more than a woman by aaliyah.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it, if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Passion, instant…

“Man, when was the last time you changed the oil on this thing?”

“The last time I had a good whiskey.”

Now, when your dad hyped Toji up, you weren’t amused at all, considering your dad’s other friends are, well, not very attractive. But, this stranger was hot as hell, currently standing shirtless in your garage. His attention was on fixing up the vintage Chevy your dad had sitting for years. Something about it’ll be a new hobby of mine, something to distract me from my little girl going off to school, but despite the ambition, that damn Chevy was taking up space and collecting dust.

Sweat beads fill me; Cupid's shot me…

He and Toji both began laughing a bit, still tending to their work. It wasn’t until you sat your suitcase down that they noticed you. Your dad was the first to see you, immediately rolling out on the dolly that was supporting his back. He came up to suffocate embrace you with the tightest hug you think he’s ever given you. He pulled back to get a good look at you, smiling real wide and kissing you on the forehead.

“You’re home! I thought you weren’t gonna be back until next week!”

“Well, Jordan may or may not have had an accident with the van while we were at a rest stop. The rest of us thought it would be safer to fly home, so here I am!”

“I told you that knucklehead was bad news, getting into an accident with my daughter in the car. I outta give him a piece of my mind.”

“Dad, I’m fine, no scratches or dents, at least on me. Plus, I think you’ve already given Jordan “a piece of your mind”, or must I remind you of when I brought him back home for Thanksgiving last year?”

“Damn it, I hate it when you're right.”

Toji, hearing the conversation play out, finally looked up from the car's hood.

My heartbeat's racing…tempt me, drive me.

Now, Toji had been around and seen a lot of women, but you, you were an angel in disguise. Your hair was curled, a pretty pink gloss, and a pair of little diamond earrings. Your crop top and cut-off shorts left little to the imagination, tits almost falling out the front and the bottom of your ass peeking out. Those shorts led down to your legs, smooth and glowing, finishing with a pair of bubblegum pink sneakers. You were fucking hot.

When your dad noticed Toji walk around the car, his face lit up a bit, bringing you over. He looked damn good, sweat dripping off his chest, down to his abs, and into the waistline of his jeans. And, boy, he was cut. You assume that all those years in the service were to thank for his physique, but you can tell he still frequents the gym, although you wish he would frequent you. He walked to the bench to grab a shirt, presumably to be appropriate, but your thoughts were nothing close to appropriate.

Feels so exciting, thought of highly. It's yours entirely, I’ll be…

“Toji, this is my daughter. Baby girl, this is Toji.”

“Well, hi there. Your dad’s told me a lot about you. How was college?”

“Hey! Hopefully, all good things! School was good, way stressful, though, especially junior year. I’m just happy to finally be home.”

“Well, little lady, it was nice to meet you. I gotta finish up on the car before this evening.”

Toji gives you a warm smile, walking back with your father to the car. At this point, you dismissed yourself, needing to dial down all of the horny thoughts you had. You figured you could unpack your bags and watch TV, but much to your dismay, Toji was still on your mind. It was getting late; you could tell from the sunset coming through your curtains. Your phone read 6:32, and almost on cue, your stomach started rumbling. You leave your room and head to the living room, figuring your dad would’ve sat down for his beer and movie routine. But he wasn’t. Nervously, you open the door to the garage, your dad and his friend still working.

“Ahem.”

They both averted their attention to you. Toji closed the hood as your dad checked his watch and looked up at you nervously.

“Well, would you look at that? It’s time for dinner!”

“Uh, yeah! What are we eating?”

“Chinese?”

“That’s fine with me.”

Toji had walked around grabbing his things as the conversation between you and your dad played out. Until your dad laid a hand on Toji’s shoulder.

“We’ll get this car moving before the end of the week, that is if you’re not too busy.”

“Fortunately, I’m not. Just doing some renovations on the house I bought.”

“Sounds great!”

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

Now, you weren’t about to let this opportunity pass you by, not when you had such a good excuse to see Toji some more.

I'll be more than a lover…

“Well, Dad, Toji should join us for dinner! Gotta screen the guy who’s hanging around you, ya know.”

“Hm, that’s a great idea. Toji, wanna join us?”

You were practically bursting with anticipation, praying he’d catch on to your advance. A simple dinner can’t hurt, right? Toji looked a little confused at first, but then he saw your face and gave you a smirk.

“Well, who am I to deny your request? Let me shower and get all this oil off, then I’ll drive back over in time for us to eat.”

Your heart was doing backflips; you couldn’t believe that actually worked.

“Yeah, I should wash up too. Baby girl, order the food, and it should be here by the time we’re done.”

“Sure can do!”

It’s like the food couldn’t come fast enough. You were so excited that you were half tempted to get the order yourself, but you came to terms with the fact you needed some self-control. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and you jumped like a fish to water. You could still hear the shower running in your dad’s room as you walked by, and you couldn’t be happier. As you approach the door, you stop at the mirror in the entryway. You fix your shirt a bit, making your boobs pop, and check your lipgloss and hair to make sure you look not just good, but hot. You opened the door with a smile that dropped almost instantly. The ring was from the food delivery guy. While you were happy to eat, you hoped it would be the man you wanted to eat at the door. You grabbed the cash your dad left on the console table, and when you turned around to hand the delivery guy the money, you nearly jumped at the sight of Toji walking up the driveway. You quickly handed the delivery guy the cash, heart pounding like crazy.

“I’ll go ahead and take these, thanks.”

More than a woman…

Toji grabbed the bags, smiled at the guy, and closed the door behind him. You led him to the kitchen table, where he sat down the food. You got a good look at him now. His hair was still damp from his shower, and he wore a white t-shirt and a pair of…grey sweatpants. You tried to be coy about it, but damn, did he have a bulge. It was like it was calling out to you, pressed into the leg of his pants. When you looked back up at his face, his eyes were checking you out before making eye contact. Deciding to be a little playful, you adjusted your shirt a bit, acting like you were fixing the fabric, but in reality, you were showing a little more skin. And Toji was getting an eyeful.

“So, ready for dinner?”

You didn’t even hear your dad come down the stairs, jolting a bit at his presence. He walked up to you, wrapping a hand around your shoulder and smiling.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya!”

More than enough for you...

This dinner started pretty simply, you and Toji glancing at each other now and then; acting like he wasn’t just ogling your body in the kitchen. Your dad, deep in his plate, hadn’t even noticed, every now and then taking a swig of his beer. That was until your dad got talkative.

“So, Toji, how ya likin’ things? Know it’s been forever since you’ve been home.”

“It’s nice, real quiet, the way I like it. Feels nice to be around people I know a little better, ya know?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Same old folks, but we’ve had some new people come into town, wantin’ a break from the city.”

“Well, this is certainly the place to do it.”

“Lots of new women too; find any lookers?

You bit your inner lip at his question. It’s not like you expected Toji to be single, but you were back. So, he was as of now. You and Toji made eye contact before he answered his question, you looking up at Toji in curiosity and him giving you a smirk.

“I met someone, yeah. Not too sure about it, though.”

You chuckled at Toji’s answer, the table averting their eyes on you. Toji smiled smugly, your dad confused. Shit, you had to play it off fast.

“What’s with the question, Dad? Not like you’ve found any lookers. Well, except that lady that was definitely looking for you.”

Your dad was none the wiser, instantly went red and laughed.

“Toji gotta tell you about this one about a year ago; real hottie, real crazy too!”

I'll be more than a lover, more than a woman, even more under covers.

The rest of dinner went on smoothly; they caught up on old memories from high school, talked about Toji’s time in the service, and, of course, you. You’d long since gone to your room, leaving them to talk in the living room, but when you got out of the shower, you’d heard them talking about you. Now, you weren’t usually one to snoop, but it was a conversation about you. With Toji involved. You’d walked to the end of the hallway, behind the wall, as they sat in the living room drinking a couple of beers.

“I was real nervous about her out there by herself, especially when she met that boy. Know she likes him, but he’s bad news, can’t stay out of trouble.”

“Well, maybe now that she’s home, they’ll fall off. It’s different when they’re seeing each other every day.”

Toji was right. You hadn’t spoken to Jordan since you got home (which, to clarify, had nothing to do with Toji). After the whole van incident, you pretty much broke up with him. You guys had been fighting the whole trip, him insisting you should move with him to the city since school was over, but you weren’t interested in leaving your dad behind. The topic created distance between you; that flight back home signified the end of an era. But oh well, there’s a new one.

“I guess you’re right; there’s no pickins’ ‘round here, though. All of ‘em left for college or moved away. Don’t want her hanging out with me forever, but I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“Trust me, she’ll find someone. Who knows? She’s a catch, for sure, but I think any guy would be intimidated meeting a dad like you!”

“Nonsense, if she found a real man, I’d be no problem.”

I'll be more than a lover, more than a woman, more than enough for you.

You stumbled at his statement, tripping into the living room a bit, their attention now on you. Now, when you were getting ready, you hadn’t originally intended on seeing Toji again for the night. So, that’s why you were wearing the shortest pajama shorts you had, paired with a tank top that, for all intents and purposes, was almost see-through.

“Babygirl! How are ya?”

“Oh! I’m, uh, good!”

You had to think fast. Why would you have been coming to the living room?

“I was just checking on you to make sure you go to sleep at a good time! Don’t forget you have to, um, take me to Leanne’s for breakfast! You said you’d take me as soon as I got back!”

“You’re right, honey, I completely forgot! I should probably head to bed now; that way, I’ll have enough time to get over this hangover.”

He looked over at Toji, who was standing up from the couch.

“Hey man, you should probably crash here. Don’t feel too comfortable with you driving after how many beers we threw back. Take the spare bedroom, farthest down the hall.”

“Yeah, Toji! Just want you to stay safe!”

You interjected the conversation, giving your dad one of those saccharine smiles that he was completely naive to, Toji smug across the room.

“Well, if you guys insist.”

Midnight grindin', heartrate's climbin'.

You waved your dad good night as you and Toji took your respective rooms. You originally intended to just go to bed, listen to some music, and drift off. Your anticipation made that last about ten minutes. With a master plan, you grabbed some blankets out of the hallway closet, knocking on the door to Toji’s room. He’d answered the door, shirtless, presumably about to go to sleep. Giving you a little smile, he stood to the side to let you in, closing the door behind him.

“What’s up, hun?”

“Oh, I, um, just wanted to see if you wanted more blankets; gets drafty in here.”

“Sure, thanks.”

You sat the blankets on the bed, Toji sitting next to them. Smiling at him, you began to lay the blankets out, his hand stopping you before you could finish.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it, wouldn’t wanna be too warm.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

His hand on you made your body shiver, wishing that hand would’ve just thrown you on the bed and fucked you. But let’s not forget self-control.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll leave you to it!”

You walked to the door, blushing as you tried to calm yourself down. Just open it and walk out-

“Is that all you wanted?”

Toji had walked over to you and laid his hand above you on the door, inches away from you.

You go, I go, 'cause we share pillows.

This could go one of two ways. You could very easily say “yes” and walk back to your room. But your pussy started talking for you.

“Depends. Did you need something else?”

Toji looked you down, licking his lips on the way up. When he met your eyes again, you were smirking, catching him in the act. Not that he really cared. He brought a hand up to your thin top, playing with the hem, not breaking eye contact as he saw your nipples perk up, shirt barely covering them.

“A little inappropriate, huh? Probably be best to cover up.”

“Not if anyone’s looking.”

He gave you a little snort, getting a good look at how flustered you were.

“What if someone is looking?”

“Then, they should do something about it. Hate to walk around inappropriately, right?”

His hand stopped playing with the hem, instead pulling your top down slowly, stopping right before your nipple was exposed.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, unless they’re enjoying it, looking that is.”

He pulled it down a bit more, nipple fully exposed, his eyes watching it intently.

“Dontcha gotta be up early?”

“That would be right. Thought about staying up a little later, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Thought it’d be nice to have a little fun.”

He brought his hand up, finger lightly grazing your nipple, making your heart skip a beat.

“I might be able to help with that.”

“Yeah?”

Toji rubbed your nipple with one finger, teasing you.

“Yeah, I can…”

Chase me, leave me…

You brought your lips up to his before he stopped you, pulling your shirt back up and walking away from you. What. The. Fuck.

“But I probably shouldn’t. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on rest.”

You gave him an annoyed look, rolling your eyes, turning to leave the room. As you opened the door, you were met with your dad giving a surprised look to you and Toji. You started to panic, fuck, did he hear any of that? Surely not, he would instantly-

“Hey there! Wanted to let you know there were extra blankets and stuff in the hall closet.”

He looked past you and at the bed, smiling in contentment. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving one of those wide smiles he always does.

“Look, seems like my baby girl here was already on it! Great hospitality; thought you might’ve lost that when you left outta here.”

Yeah, great hospitality, alright. You were ready to give Toji the best damn stay of his life. You gave your dad a playful jab, walking past him as you two waved goodnight to Toji. When you went back to your room, your head kept spinning. Had he heard your dad coming? Is that why he stopped? Fuck, he’d played with your nipple and everything, if you could even call it that. 

Shit, at least you knew one thing: it was time to put your vibrator to good use.

I don't think you're ready for this thing…

Constant pleasures, no scale can measure. 

That whole thing was two days ago. Since then, you’d tried to avoid Toji altogether, too embarrassed to face him, always having something to do when he came to work on the car. That was until your dad intervened.

“Hey, sweetie. Can we talk about something?”

Fuck, this was it. He’d known this whole time and just waited to say something. You sat on your bed as he stood in the doorway, a look of concern on his face. You were too bugged out to say something, just nodded and waited for his response.

“Well, remember when I told you I’d have the pool in the back cleaned out and ready by the time you got home this summer?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Well, time got the best of me, so it’s not done, probably not til next month. But, Toji’s pool is in top shape! That is if you still wanna swim. I asked, and he said that’s perfectly fine.”

“That would be great, thanks, Dad!”

You just hit the fucking gold mine. Firstly, of course, you wanted to go the pool, but a reason to go over to Toji’s, half-naked? Oh, this was just what you needed. Once your dad left, you rummaged the room for materials for your scheme: cute swimsuit, sunscreen, towel, all the good stuff. Except your swimsuit was more of a bikini well, actually, it looked more like a thong and tiny bra. So, pretty damn hot.

Secret treasures, keeps on getting better.

“I’m gonna take the car, okay?”

“Okay, honey, drive safe!”

You’d got over to Toji’s somewhat fast, only about a ten-minute drive, but that ten minutes felt like forever. Especially to the one screaming at you through your bottoms. You’d knocked on the door, breathing in and out to prepare for him to come. Except he didn’t. You didn’t wanna be a weirdo or anything, but your dad did tell him you’d be coming and his car was in the driveway, so where the hell was he? Only one way to find out. You’d open the gate door on the side of the house, walking the pathway to the pool. There was no sign of him so you went ahead and put your stuff down, putting on your sunscreen and-

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Uh, hey!”

You nearly jumped out of your damn skin. Toji had crept up on you, presumably from the house, as the back door was open and he was holding a water bottle. He gave it to you, chuckling a bit at your surprised look.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya. Well, you have the pool. Feel free to stay as long as you’d like.”

Was he acting completely normal? Maybe you had overanalyzed the other night; maybe it wasn’t nearly as horny as it felt. Then again, he had made somewhat of a move on you; maybe you’d test to see if that feeling was still there.

“Hey, Toji, before you go, I can’t get the sunscreen on my back. Can you help with that?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Do you wanna roll with me?

Toji gave you a smirk, taking the sunscreen from you and turning around so he could apply it. His hands were a bit calloused and cold, but they were warming up your skin like fire. Every stroke of his hand got you wetter and wetter, almost melting into his touch as he rubbed the sunscreen into your skin. He’d been careful, stopping right before applying it to your ass, almost waiting for your clearance.

“Touch me.”

He chuckled a bit, bringing his hands down to your ass, massaging the skin there. Your body was working for you, slightly moving as he applied it, moan about to escape from your lips.

“All done, princess.”

With that, he slapped your ass and walked back into the house, leaving you sexually frustrated again. You sighed in exhaustion, you were more than hoping to get your rocks off, but that’d have to wait. Again. That wasn’t gonna stop you from teasing him; you’d play into this coy little game of his. You got into the pool now, swimming for a bit while you thought of what to do next. Part of you wanted to just go in there naked and tell him to fuck you, but that was a little too brave. Instead, you had a better idea.

“Hey, Toji?”

He walked out of the house, walking over to you at the pool. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that you were giving him those fuck me eyes.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I need some help, my swimsuit top broke!”

You brought your body out of the water a bit, straps floating as you held the fabric to your chest. Toji wiped his face down, smirking at your dedication to this bit.

“Accidents happen. Let’s go inside; I got a shirt you can wear.

We can go to foreign lands, your hand in my hand.

Before you entered Toji’s house, another idea hatched.

“I’d hate to get water all over your floor! I can wait here til you get it.”

With a confused look, he shrugged and walked in. After a couple of minutes, he returned with a shirt, definitely a bit bigger than your figure, along with a towel. You began drying yourself off, taking extra care to dry the places he was actively staring at.

“That should fit you. I can make you something to eat; I’m sure you’re hungry after all that swimming.”

“Thanks, here, hold this so I can put it on.”

You handed him your swim top, chest fully exposed, nipples hard from the change of temperature. His face went flustered as he held it, eyes glued to your tits. With a smile, you brought the shirt over your head, putting it on as he watched you.

“These are wet; should probably take these too.”

With that you brought your fingers to the hem of your bottoms, pulling them down and handing them to Toji, fully naked now except for his shirt. He was chuckling, almost red from the boldness you had. You walked past him into the house, waiting for him on the kitchen island as he closed the back door. You pretty much knew you had him, but you needed that thing to take him right over the edge. So, you did. Toji walked up to you now, leaning against the counter opposite of you, giving you an expectant look.

“So, what are we eating…hopefully me.”

That was enough. Toji cleared the distance between you, hand wrapping behind your neck as he brought you in to kiss you. The kiss was hungry and needy; all that pent-up sexual frustration finally getting handled. You let him lead, hand coming down to rub your pussy before slipping his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan from you.

“You know we shouldn’t be doing this, but you’re quite the naughty one.”

“I am and obviously so are you; if not you wouldn’t be fingering me.”

“Got a point there.”

He smiled a bit, tilting your head so he can suck the skin of your neck, kissing you in all the right places.

“If you want me so bad, why’d you stop? Hear my dad coming?”

“Coincidence, sweetheart. Didn’t hear him at all.”

“So, why not continue?”

He brought your legs up, sitting you on the counter as he brought his hand down to grip your ass.

“Cause I’d feel bad about fucking my friend's daughter in his house.”

“So, fuck me here.”

Do you wanna ride with me?

Toji picked you straight up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked to his room, you laughed as he brought you up the stairs. Once in his bedroom, he closed the door and sat you on the bed, undressing before taking you out of his shirt. In a swift motion, he laid you down, body coming over yours to kiss you again, pulling back slightly to get a good look at you.

“So, what about your little boyfriend?”

“What boyfriend?”

He laughed as he brought his fingers to you again, this time, rubbing your clit as you moaned underneath him. Moving down slowly, he caught one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and pulling at it with his tongue. It had you moaning, arching your back slightly as he brought his other hand up to play with your other nipple. The one that started it all. He’d found his way to your stomach licking a line straight down as he made eye contact with you, finally stopping when his tongue met your bud. Quickly, he flipped you two over, laying on his back as he sat you on his face. He didn’t give you time to prepare at all, arm pinning your legs down as his tongue worked wonders on your clit. Fuck, it was fantastic. Every lick had you gripping his headboard tighter, grinding against his face as you lost yourself in his mouth. He had you moaning near screaming, eyes on you as he worked his tongue underneath you. You couldn’t even look at him, too involved with your impending orgasm. You truly didn’t give a fuck, taking his mouth for yourself as you felt yourself about to cum. You’d thrown your head back now, Toji seeing you about to unfold and licked your clit even faster, arms bringing you so close he could suffocate. Then, it was bliss.

Your orgasm hit you hard, hand clenching on the headboard so hard you could swear you broke it. You rode it all the way out, moving your hips against his mouth as he lapped up your cum. He’d started loosening his grip on your thighs, holding you to prevent you from tipping over, and laid you on your back. You were on cloud nine, eyes still fluttering as you came down. Toji brought his face down to yours, kissing your cheek and then moving his lips to your ear.

“You did so good, taste fucking great too. You okay?”

“Fuck me.”

We can be like Bonnie and Clyde, me by your side.

Toji laughed at your bluntness as he opened your legs and sat them on either side of his hips.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

You were in fucking need. Cumming on his mouth was amazing, but you knew you didn’t wanna stop there, and neither did he. You opened your legs even wider for him, pulling him down by his neck to kiss him, bucking your hips into his waist as your sensitive bud brushed against his boxers. You could feel your wetness soaking into the fabric, making his dick harder than a brick. Swiftly, he fell back, making quick work to take off his boxers and climb back on top of you. Fuck, he had a big dick. His lips hovered over yours as you groaned in anticipation, feeling him rub against your lips, toying with you.

“Ready for me? Don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“Yes, sir.”

That lit a fire in him, hungrily bringing your hips towards him and then kissing your cheek. And just like that, he slipped in. He took his time, moving what felt like inch by inch to let you adjust to him. It did hurt a bit, but all that ended when he was all the way in, kissing you as he started moving his hips. It felt so fucking good. Toji stroked you slowly, being real careful with you as he exhaled on your shoulder, making you shudder under him. He’d pulled up and sat on his hands now, looking for that green light in your eyes for him to go faster, and once you gave it, he gave it to you exactly how you needed it.

I'll be more than a lover…

Toji had a steady pace, hands gripping your hips to steady you as he fucked into you. Your eyes had rolled back, whimpering as you gave your body to him. He knew exactly what to do with it, satisfying any craving you’d had up to that point. He fell in love with the way you moaned his name, fueling his thrusts to faster, making you moan it even louder.

“Toji…”

“Looks like those college boys haven’t been fucking you right, huh?”

“No, sir…”

“Don’t worry, ima take real good care of you.”

And that he did. He had you scratching his back, trying to get a grip as he fucked you. His hand had long since found your leg, pulling it up to your stomach to fuck you deeper. He was hitting everything inside you, felt like his dick was made for you. He was definitely right; the boys at school were shit in bed, either only fucking til they came in 3 minutes or not eating you out at all. None of them were ever as big as Toji either, especially not Jordan, he hadn’t fucked you nearly as good as this. Probably because of age, learned how to really please a woman after all these years, and fuck, you wanted it all to yourself.

More than a woman…

“Hold on tight, baby.”

Toji flipped you over so you were on top, hands gripping your ass as he slammed you on his dick. It was hard not to just scream his name over and over, wanting to be a little tame as he fucked you. But that was all over when he picked up his pace again. You could barely hold yourself up, hands gripping his shoulders as he guided you, giving it to you in that special spot that had you dying inside. Shamelessly, you threw your hips back on him as you screamed his name, him smiling below you.

“Looks like I found your sweet spot. Let me hear you baby, wanna know just how good I’m making you feel.”

“So fucking good, Toji…So good…”

He’d slapped your ass to say good girl, making you whimper every few thrusts when he did it. You finally reached a point where you could actually look at him; his face was sweating, hair sticking to it as he looked at you smugly like he was waiting to see your reaction to him taking you. He was fucking hot, something about the hungry look in his eyes had your pussy clenching around him, making him groan and bite that scar on his lip. You knew you weren’t gonna last very much longer, that fire rising inside you as he synced your bodies together.

“I see it, princess. Let me have it.”

You tried your best to hold in, wanting to hold off so you could get fucked longer, but it was just too good to hold back. Your fingers gripped his shoulders so hard you’d swear they’d bruise, screaming his name. He brought a hand up to your face, moving it so he could look at you as you came. You had been closing your eyes so hard your mascara smeared, lips plump from all the kissing, and face warm and flustered from how hard it was hitting you. He’d fucked you deep, wanting to feel your pussy spasm on every inch of him, sending him into overdrive. As you rode out your orgasm, he was chasing his, body turning to putty as he claimed your pussy as his. Toji was sexy as hell, groaning and moaning your name as he fucked his cum inside you.

Even more under covers.

You couldn’t keep it together anymore, so fucked out that you tipped over, Toji catching you as you fell. He laid you down gently, resting your head on the pillow as he pulled out of you. You were fucking done. You’d almost fallen asleep, head falling to the side as your body came to terms with just how much pleasure it had experienced.

“Hold on baby, let me take care of you first.”

Toji walked to his bathroom, wetting a washcloth and cleaning you up. You squirmed a bit at the overstimulation, too tired to even let out a moan. He’d pulled the covers over you, brushing your hair as you drifted to sleep. He’d gotten in bed next to you, lying down. Then the damn doorbell rang. Irritated, he got up and threw on some clothes, trying to be presentable enough to open the door. Fuck, whatever it was, it better be-

“Hey, Toji! Have ya seen her ‘round? She forgot her phone back at the house.”

I'll be more than a lover, more than a woman, more than enough for you.

♱ the song used in this story is more than a woman by aaliyah. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

[look-at-the-soul]

Ain’t she sweet

Tommy Shelby x reader

Master list

✨I had this idea for a while going around my mind, and even though I’m still in jail time, it was the perfect time to finally write this down. Actually this idea was meant to happen in The Photoshoot, but you know me… if I don’t use something in a story, I will make it fit into another one ☺️😉

Dear Val @notyour-valentine congratulations on your 1K celebration followers!!!!! I’m so happy you reached that goal and I’m still keeping some of your stories on my to-read list. 💖

🌙🌘I chose this incredible theme A forever memory

“How was school, Charlie?” You tried to make small talk with Tommy’s son, he had been very quiet, looking out the window. His attitude was screaming he rather walk back home than be with you inside the car.

After a loud sigh he answered; “Good.” You could even bet he was rolling his eyes at you so you decided to stop bothering him.

The trip back home was long and quiet, he got upset because you went to pick him up instead of his aunt Pol like she usually did. Tommy had asked you as a favor because his aunt wasn’t available that day, neither was Ada, so Charlie didn’t really have much choice there.

His cold attitude towards you wasn’t something new, ever since he found out his mother was killed because he accidentally heard his uncles Arthur and John talking about it. He refused to talk to anyone for days, and when he finally did, Charlie asked lots of questions no one could really answer, even Polly couldn’t reach to the boy. And then, he deliberately started to ignore you, he constantly interrupted while you were talking to Tommy, stormed into his room or office without knocking first -and almost caught the two of you making out twice-, he even told Polly once he wished it was you the one that got shot instead of his mum. You didn’t even know Tommy back then.

Tommy practically gave up on him, too busy with the family business and well the general danger surrounding him, he eventually got tired of explaining Charlie it wasn’t your fault his mother was killed. You even gave up to the little hope of the kid changing his mind about you, since in his mind, you were the enemy.

You tried several times to get close to him, and every single time, Charlie rejected any way of affection that came from you, any present was left unopened, when you tried to congratulate him, he turned his back at you… and the list could keep going.

But you wanted to keep trying for Tommy, and deep down, you adored Charlie, he was an incredible kid, you understood growing up without his mother wasn’t something easy, you actually wanted Tommy to be closer to his son, wanted them to have a relationship based on love and trust yet, you understood Tommy’s reasons to be strict, he even struggled himself for his late wife’s death. And he also suffered for being in the middle, between your love and his son’s.

You saw Frances opening the door as the car reached Arrow’s House entrance.

“I’m going out to play with my cars.” Charlie announced, probably to Frances and rushed past you.

Ruffling his hair, you gently suggested: “How about we have lunch first, then homework and later we can play outside?”

You never noticed Tommy coming out from his office just as Charlie yelled at you:

“You don’t get to tell me what to do! You’re not my mum!” He ran off upstairs, not even stopped to say hello to his dad.

A heavy silence filled the room as you felt the pain caused by his words like a hot, sharp knife, slicing through your heart.

“Charles Shelby, come back in this moment!” Tommy barked as the boy reached the last step to then disappear in the hall of the second floor. He tried to go after his son, but you stopped him.

“Leave it, please.” When you saw Tommy’s angry expression you pleaded again. “I don’t want you to start a war.” Frances discretely had left you alone. “Besides, he is right… I am not his mother.” You added in a low voice, your head down as you walked to the kitchen.

Tommy stayed there in the middle, between his fiancé in the kitchen and his son upstairs. Torn between comforting one or grounding the other.

Something shattering in the kitchen made him choose the first one.

The glass pan you used that morning to bake a cake was on the floor broken and mixed with the smashed cake. Frances saw it slipping from your hands.

Hands shaking, you were frozen in spot. Unable to keep holding the tears as you heard Charlie’s words over and over in your mind. No matter how hard you tried, he would never accept you. Picking up a piece of cake, Tommy rushed next to you as you were about to cut your hand.

“I got it love.” He moved you with a gently voice. But he felt your body shaking. “It’s alright, hey, listen to me.”

As he pulled you into his embrace, you started to shake your head against his chest.

“No, it’s not.” He heard the way your voice broke down and shot Frances a quick glance to leave the two of you alone.

He wasn’t usually very fond of showing his emotions or affective, but he also was aware how much Charlie’s contempt affected you. That’s why he decided to keep his arms around you, hands running up and down your back while he felt your sobs subsiding.

Tommy took his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the tears from your face.

“He’s going to have to get used to you once we get married.”

Taking a deep breath, your fingers touched nervously the engagement ring he gave you about a month ago, right before Charlie found out about what happened with Grace.

“Tommy… I think it’s best if we put our engagement on hold.” You decided to distract yourself smoothing the neck of his shirt, you couldn’t look him in the eyes, not with all the battles you were fighting at the moment.

“That’s nonsense Y/N.” His body tensed immediately and then he lifted your chin with his finger. “You can’t let a child control your life like that.”

“I’m not going to be in the middle between you and your son, I grew up without my father and-”

“Don’t do this to me, fuck this Y/N. Why are you taking the easy way out?”

“This is far from easy for me Tommy, I’m trying to avoid that one day he makes you choose between me and him.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

You took a step back, trying to put some distance between the two of you.

“That’s what happened with my father and he didn’t choose me… I can’t go through that again.”

You didn’t want to wait anymore to listen what he had to say, so you walked out of Arrow House.

Tommy’s hands were closed in a tight fist, the vein in his temple visible. Each footstep he took, echoed on the floor as he returned to his office.

“Frances! Get someone to clean this up and tell my son he’s grounded!” He closed the door with a loud bang only to open it again seconds later. “Indefinitely.” He added with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

***

As Tommy skipped lunch, and he pretty much was about to skip dinner as well, Frances decided to prepare him some tea. She had known Y/N since Mr. Shelby started dating her and she could recognize all the good things she had brought into his life.

“What am I doing wrong, Frances?” He asked the maid while his eyes were fixed on the papers in front of him.

Smoothing her apron, Frances looked at him, lines of worry across his forehead, tensed shoulders, rubbing his index finger against the thumb, the lost look in his eyes, she could read him like the palm of her hand.

“If I’m too strict, he’s going to run away, if I’m too soft he’s going to end up like Finn, there’s no in between.”

“Talk to him, Mr. Shelby, Charlie is a smart child he will understand.”

Leaning back on his chair, Tommy took the remains of the almost consumed cigarette to take a long puff.

“Will he?” With a groan he moved his arm to reach the cup of tea. “I’m scared one day he will look at me and ask why did his mum die instead of me.”

Frances felt her heart crushing inside her chest.

“He loves you Mr. Shelby and not long ago he was happy around Y/N. Give him some time, I found him crying earlier.”

How did his happiness could cause such sadness to his own kid?

“Soon we’ll be celebrating your nuptials and all of this will be forgotten.” She had so many things to do, and she knew that once Mr. Shelby stayed quiet, his mind started to overthink everything so she decided to excuse herself and left her boss alone.

Leaving his tea unfinished, Tommy walked upstairs to Charlie’s room, the lighted lamp and his breathing gave away his son wasn’t sleeping, he was just pretending to be asleep.

Sitting by the end of the bed, Tommy tucked his son in, just like when he was a little boy.

“When your mum was taken away from us, I swore I would never get married again.” His voice was soft, almost soothing. “And it’s actually a funneh story the way I met Y/N, the only time I’ve been late to a meeting in my life, was because of her.”

Tommy chuckled at the memory and leaned his palm over his thigh to rest his body forwards. He knew Charlie was awake because he saw him by the corner of his eye blinking, but he kept talking as if he was asleep.

“I was in a hurry, distracted, talking to myself like I always do. She was walking backwards you know, just coming out from the store carrying boxes of cupcakes and I swear I didn’t see her right away as I was taking my right on the corner… the cupcakes ended up flying everywhere and landed on the floor. I thought she would be so mad, but instead she looked at me with the biggest and kindest smile and after asking if I was alright, she offered me the only intact cupcake that wasn’t ruined.” She smelled like vanilla and frosting, too sweet and delicate he remembered. “And in that very moment I knew she had something that no one else had.” Licking his lips, he could still taste her there. “She was the sweetest little thing a grumpy man like me needed.”

He was now softer thanks to her, she constantly stormed inside his office or the betting shop with fresh baked cookies or cake to share and bright everyone’s day. “And I don’t tell her much this, but she makes me want to be better man, and she’s constantly pushing me to be a better father to you.”

A glimpse of sadness clouded his blue eyes. “You can’t even imagine how much your words have hurt her, because if there’s someone asking me about you, worried every time you get sick, staying up late to check on you or if you need anything, that’s Y/N.”

Tommy swallowed hard, thinking how grateful he actually felt for you.

“You’re right, she’s not your mother, she will never be, but apart from your aunts… Y/N is the closest to a mother you will ever have.”

The bed creaked when Tommy got up to walk out of his son’s room, wearing his heart on his sleeve, craving for you in that moment.

———

The following day, he knew you wouldn’t be home to have lunch that day like you usually did. You actually made him change that from his schedule, to spend more time with Charlie every day and he couldn’t lie to himself, he had loved making that little adjustment to be with you and his son instead of eating alone in his office.

“Mr. Shelby! I tried to reach you in your office all morning.” Frances appeared with a worried expression. Tommy saw by the corner of his eye Charlie in the middle of the stairs.

“What is it Frances?”

“It’s Y/N, she was run over by a delivery truck outside her business this morning.”

Tommy didn’t wait to hear the rest, he rushed back to his car to go to the hospital.

Trying to adjust yourself, you groaned from the pain.

“Do you want something?” Tommy’s voice asked you taking your hand.

“How many elephants were?”

Tommy chuckled at your humor. “One milk truck in reverse was all you needed to get knocked out.”

“Mmm, it felt like a stampede.” You finally opened your eyes to meet his. Tommy was all over you, kissing your face, moving away your hair.

“Doctor says you can leave today, but you will need someone looking after you.”

“Did you had to pull out your gun to make him say that?”

“It wasn’t necessary, says you’re strong as an oak.” He winked at you. “I’m taking you home, Y/N… and I don’t want to hear a single complain about it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, too tired to keep them open. “Wasn’t going to.”

“So, you’re really in a lot of pain.” You saw the corner of his lips moving upwards.

“I didn’t see the truck.” You admitted.

Tommy made a funny face. “Maybe you need glasses.”

Too tired to argue his sarcasm, you slapped his arm. “The truck driver was moving in reverse.”

After sleeping all the way to his house, he carried you upstairs in his arms as if you weighted nothing, straight into his bedroom, under the gossipy eyes of the maids.

You thanked Tommy for arraigning the pillows for you and the soup he announced Frances was making.

“I’ll be in my office doing some phone calls, but if you need anything you know where the bell is.” Tommy leaned down to kiss you softly on your forehead, but before he could break apart, you pulled him to your lips, tasting the smell of tobacco in him. “Don’t start something you won’t be able to carry out, Y/N.”

“Give me a couple of days and you’ll see.”

You felt like you needed at least ten painkillers to make you feel better, but you already had too many, looking around, there was just a dim light coming through the curtains so it was probably night by now and Tommy still hadn’t returned. Tilting your head to the side, you found the door open barely by a few inches and a spying eye looking through.

“You can come in Charlie.” As the little boy opened the door you realized he had been crying. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t want you to get hurt Y/N.” He stormed in and started crying inconsolable on your side.

“Take a deep breath Charlie… of course you didn’t, it’s not your fault.”

But he had a confession to make. “It is, I wished you went away or disappeared.”

“Well… I’m glad your wish failed, you have nothing to worry about.” Your fingers moved away the fringe from his face, he was starting to look so much like Tommy now.

“Dad said I made you cry... sorry.” He looked down.

“Don’t worry, we all say things we don’t want to say.”

“But I was so scared of something bad happening to you.”

Patting the empty spot on the bed, you smiled at him. “Just a little push, that’s all, you don’t have to worry now.”

As Charlie cuddled close to your body, you helped him climb under the covers.

“I like you Y/N, I just miss my Mum.”

You had to blink a couple of times to make sure you listened him correctly. “I’m sure she’s watching over you, Charlie. You know, your Dad works really hard to keep you safe, you’re his priority always.” You could feel him relaxing against you. “And I’m not here to take your Mum’s place, I’m here to make you and your Dad happy.”

You chuckled as Charlie yawned. Stroking his head, you felt his arm over your stomach, as if he was hugging you.

“When I feel better how about we bake something? A chocolate cake? Your favorite.”

“Can’t… I’m grounded until I’m twelve.”

Smiling, you couldn’t tell him his Dad would never do that.

“Maybe… I can help you reduce it to nine?”

“Deal.” He had completed melted in your arms, his eyelids closed now. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Is it true you and Dad are getting married?”

He must have heard someone in the house talking about it.

“Would you like that?” You saw the boy nodding eagerly to your question. “In that case, I can talk to your father about that too tomorrow. Have sweet dreams Charlie.”

Perhaps it was the heavy pain medication you were in, or the fact that Charlie went back to being the sweet kid he was in the beginning to you, but that night was a good one, despite the little incident with the truck. You could even see the moon shining up in the sky through the curtains.

Unbuttoning his vest, Tommy walked into the room the two of you shared when you stayed for the night, he was taken aback by the sight in front of him; Charlie sleeping in his bed, not only stealing his side of the bed, but his woman as well.

The image filled his heart, this was all he was hoping for, to have you in his life, his heart, his house, his bed. He wanted everything. The whole scene was something he would keep like a forever memory.

But also in Charlie’s life. He knew he had chosen the right woman to raise his son with, he just hoped Charlie could eventually see it too.

And judging by the heartwarming scene in front of him, it looked just like that.

Well, ain’t she sweet. He thought to himself with the hint of a smile decorating his lips as he climbed in the tight space free.

***

A/N: since I’m in jail time, I won’t be able to reply to your comments 💕 but you know I treasure each of them. If you decide to share and spread the word, I will be forever grateful ♥️ thank you for reading!!!

The usual tags will be from my side blog.

[bahrtofane]

Dialogue 15 and trope 19 with Kylian 💞 Your writing is so good!

thank u sm !! enjoy lovely <333

- "Can we start over, just you and me?" -  Second Chance

word count - 600+

watch it - kinda toxic relationship but its okay kinda happy ending hehe

In some parallel universe there's a version of you and kylian that haven't broken up and you're still in his home cozy in his expensive comforters without a care in the world as he pressed kisses to your cheeks. 

This is not your universe and the reality that you live is instead that you haven seen him in weeks and the last you did you stormed off screaming at dinner. Hey can you really blame yourself? 

Kylian has dragged you on a wild ride filled with so much drama you could actually kneel over and die just from thinking about it. 

And if you ask him, he'd say you were never together. The nerve. 

You hope he breaks a knee or something. That would shut him up. You think hes single handedly the most egotistical person you have ever had the misery of meeting. 

To him, he was untouchable. On and off the pitch. He was-is- Kylian Mbappe, what does anyone have to say to his face but praise? Nothing. 

Funny thing is you never meant to get involved this much. At the wrong moment at the wrong time. And boom you collided. Literally. At a friend's birthday dinner you got up to fix your dress, and here comes Mr hot shot not looking where he was going and slammed right into you. Sending you right into the table ribs first. That bruise was sore for ages. 

And the rest is history. A very miserable depressing history that leaves you with a pile of keepsakes under your bed. You have yet to find the heart to throw them out. 

And through all this you still let him come obver after practice to ‘talk.’ what the hell is there to talk about? The rumors that made you leave? The amount of times he never outright said you were together? God. 

He shows up soon enough. In all black and with flowers and a bag. You toss them into your kitchen table and guide him to your couch. 

“What is this about Kylian?” you sigh. 

He wrings his hands together, unable to look you in the eye. 

"Can we start over, just you and me?" soft. Gentle. 

“Kylain.” you warn. 

“I'm serious. I let talk and rumors get the best of me. I failed you in the process.”

“We start over and we what, do the same thing over and watch how you embarrass me?” you lash out. 

He winces,”no. I want you back and I want to treat you properly. I'm sorry for all I put you through. That's on me and always will be. But I can't just let you leave. I need you.”

"Fine," you relent, your tone laced with reluctance. "Let's start over. But this time, Kylian, we do it on my terms. No more games, no more lies. Just honesty, trust, and a genuine effort to make things work."

Kylian's expression softens, he's relieved. "I promise, this time will be different. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust and make things right."

You nod, though the doubts still linger in the back of your mind. "We'll see," you murmur, unwilling to fully let your guard down just yet. You know him well enough to know not to jump for joy. He needs to prove all this talk to you first. 

As Kylian reaches out to take your hand, you can't help but wonder if you're making a mistake, if you're setting yourself up for heartbreak once again. But amidst the uncertainty, there's a glimmer of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

Together, you take a tentative step forward, ready to give love another chance, praying that this time, it won't end in disappointment. Praying that you won't have to tear down every little thing that reminds you of him. That maybe Kylian has space for you in his life rather than just  haphazard room he's made on a whim from shoving things aside till they swallow you whole. 

Only time will tell. 

[rarityroo]

Hey there is there anyway where we could get a Jax x younger sibling reader. Perhaps he gets into a argument with them and they run off crying because of what he had said to them. Than something happens to the reader and than Jax feels absolutely terrible but the reader ends up being okay and Jax gives them a hug<3

Digital disharmony

(Jax x gn!younger sibling!reader)

I really love writing for tadc especially the platonic fics. Thank you for sending this in and I really hope you enjoy this!

You always admired Jax, you followed him around, you copied the way he acted, and you did everything he did, but he didn’t completely love it. In all honestly, he found you very annoying. He still cared for you though.

He tried to encourage you to be your own person albeit using less-than-kind methods. Jax would tease you and even at times yell at you whenever you were practically on his tail from following him so close.

You have been trying to get Jax's attention all day, following him around like a shadow, but Jax's patience was wearing thin.

"Hey. Kid, can you give me some space for once?" Jax snapped, his voice tight with frustration. "I'm trying to focus here." Turning back to whatever he was doing, probably something to use against Gaggle.

Your brows furrowed at the reprimand, their own patience wearing thin. "I just want to spend time with you, Jax," you replied, your voice tinged with hurt. "Is that too much to ask?" You asked sarcastically, Jax let out an annoyed sigh, running a hand down his face in frustration. "Look, I’m clearly busy right now, okay? I don't have time to babysit you."

Your eyes narrowed, what was his problem? “Babysit me?" You repeated in disbelief, your voice rising with anger. "I'm not a child, Jax." Jax's temper flared at the defiance in their tone. "Oh, really?" he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his classic sadistic smile planted on his face. "Because it sure doesn't seem like it. All you do is follow me around, trying to act like me. It's pathetic."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, "I just look up to you, Jax," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I really don’t care," Jax retorted, his voice growing with malice. "I'm sick of you following me around all the time kid. Just leave me alone.”

With that, you stormed out of the room, tears in your eyes, having heard enough, if he didn’t want you there then you’d leave.

After you stormed out of the room, Jax found himself looking at the door you left from, his anger slowly giving way to guilt. He knew he had gone too far with you, that his words had been much harsher than he had intended. But Jax felt he was too good to apologize, that’s what kept him from going back, kept him from admitting his mistake. He knew even if he really didn’t want to he would have to apologize sooner or later. He had to find you…

He did find you eventually, you sat just outside the tent of the digital circus, looking at the sky, or at least the pixel rendering of one. The tears in your eyes were still present but slowly drying as you tried to calm yourself.

Jax approached you slowly, the thoughts of what he said heavy in his head.

"Hey," Jax said softly, you turned to look at him, your eyes filled with sadness and resentment. You quickly wipe your tears, he didn’t need to see you cry. "What do you want, Jax?" You replied, bitterness lacing your voice. Jax swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to say. "I'm sorry," he said at last, his voice so quite you’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just... frustrated, and I took it out on you. That was…wrong. I'm sorry.”

You looked at Jax for a moment, your expression softening ever so slightly. "It still hurts, you know," you said quietly. "Your words, I mean."

Jax nodded, he did feel bad, genuinely he felt so bad. “I know," He replied. "And I know you don’t have to forgive me, but…." Jax gives you a childish smile, trying to make you laugh. Unfortunately for you, it worked

You let out a soft giggle "I forgive you, Jax," You said.

As they sat there together looking at the digital sky, the vibrant hues of the sunset casting an ethereal glow over them, a sense of calm descended upon them. It was a moment of quiet understanding, broken by you.

"I'm glad we talked," You said softly, "I was afraid you’d never talk to me." You said with a small laugh, despite the real fear behind that sentence.

Jax nodded, his gaze fixed on the view ahead. "Me too," he begrudgingly admitted. Jax reached out his hand and pulled you into a hug. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes especially to you knowing how Jax was averse to affection.

[sixpennydame]

Still I Wait

Levi x gn!reader

Content: Romantic angst, S4 Levi fighting his way back to you

A/N: This one shot is meant to read like a poem and was inspired by a one shot @humanitys-strongest-bamf wrote for me and the song below:

You and Levi both knew the rules: no falling in love..

Love was a liability. A privilege he couldn’t allow. You understood this and had agreed that your relationship merely filled the loneliness you both felt. It was a physical yearning, that was all.

You’d once fought alongside each other, but a severe injury before the Shiganshina expedition caused you to quit the Survey Corps in your prime; in the end, it saved you from dying with your comrades, but the remorse of being left behind was almost too much to bear.

Levi, your last surviving friend and comrade, understood your pain. You both found solace in each other’s company and eventually, in each other’s arms, with one stipulation:

We can’t fall in love.

He saw you when he could, bodies entwined as his lips and hands explored each gouge and scar on your skin. You learned the meaning of every deep breath and moan he took. Sometimes gentle, other times rough, but always passionate, as if you both were the key to each other’s lock. A year turned into two and by now the short afternoon trysts were one or two day encounters.

The world around you changed, shaking the very foundations you thought you both knew. You attempted to change with the times as well; the expansion of knowledge and innovation intrigued you, but Levi stayed the same: ever focused on avenging his comrades and taking down the Beast Titan.

The following year took Levi to Marley. He was gone for months, and you worried he might never return. You couldn’t stand to think of living in a world without Levi, and that’s when you knew: you’d broken the one rule you’d made.

You’d fallen in love.

While the Corps prepared for the raid on Liberio, you prepared your heart. You hadn’t told him how you felt, for fear that it would drive him away. You’d rather keep your feelings a secret than live without him. Days before his departure, he came to your door. These times, you craved them; as if he was the light illuminating your dark world. His body on top of yours, your head caged in by his arms, you couldn’t escape his gaze. Did he see the love in your eyes? Would he tell you if he did?

Levi, do you think of a life beyond this?

In the morning, he prepares to leave. ���I’ll see you when I return.”

Strong arms around you, head in the crook of his neck, you whisper, “And I’ll be waiting.”

A promise, sealed with a final kiss.

You waited, as he returned from Marley with Zeke in tow, heading directly for the forest of tall trees.

You watched in horror, as the walls crumbled and Titans marched across the land into the ocean. You ran for your life, but your faith in Levi never waivered.

You cling to hope when you hear of fighting across the sea. If anyone would still be fighting, it would be Levi.

The world upended and in chaos, you know deep in your heart he’s still alive.

And so you wait.

——

In the forest, Levi dreams of the last time he saw you. There was something lingering in the air that day, words left unsaid. He wonders if you’d felt that too.

He wishes you’d asked him to stay a little longer, had held the embrace a few moments more. But if you had, would he have complied?

You had been a beautiful distraction, a way for him to leave the worries of the world behind, though they were always waiting for him when he left your embrace.

His life had never been his own and he wore the weight of it all like an old coat. But you never asked anything of him, never expected more than his presence.

He’s never looked back, always pushed forward. But when this all stops, will you still be there? He wants you to be.

“…I’ll be waiting,” you’d said.

In a flash, it all came tumbling down.

An explosion, and he feels his body flying through the air.

Then nothing.

It’s true what they say, that when you’re dying your life flashes before your eyes. Levi sees it all, scenes of his life play on a loop, but of all the moments, the ones with you stand out amongst them . All his life, Levi has known what he had to do.

But love doesn’t follow the rules.

You are it. You are everything he’s ever wanted. When he returns, he’s going to tell you.

“Wait for me.”

How many days has it been now? How many stitches did Hange sew into his skin? Even with his body in tatters, he thinks of you. But you seem so far away now, a life with you merely an eager fantasy. He’s so tired of war, of hate, of struggle. Would you even recognize him if you saw him now?

For the first time in his life he feels powerless as he watches his comrades cut down their own. He wills his body to comply as he walks down the steps of the ship, clutching the handrail. He will not be a liability. He will finish what was started.

And when it’s all over, he’ll come back to you.

“Dedicate you heart,” he tells Hange. The sorrow overwhelms him; it’s an unwelcome guest in his heart, but it’s lived with him for so long, defined most of his life. When it leaves, what will be left of him?

Happiness, peace, love. All the things he’s yet to see, are waiting for him with you.

If he can just push through a little longer, fight one day more. When the sun sets, a new day will dawn, and this will all be over.

He’ll find you. He’ll drag his broken body across this broken world until he sees you again. So he can tell you he loves you. That he always has.

“Wait for me, just a little longer.”

———

Tagging my angst-loving babes: @mrsackxrman @mrsackermannx @littlerequiem @leviismybby

Join my tag list

[lost-between-letters]

Pet Names

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x vampire!Reader (she/her)

Requested by: @animealways

Warnings: canon typical levels of violent threats/insults

Word Count: 743

Summary: Wednesday was on a call with her family when her girlfriend decided to crash the conversation with her bubbly personality

A/N: that was so much fun to write! Requests for all our favourite Wednesday characters are still very much open :)

"Larissa is still as strict about your free time outside of Nevermore as the last time we visited I trust?" Morticia inquired with a wave of her hand.

Wednesday rolled her eyes at the memory of Prinicpal Weems' pathetic attempts at limiting her in her decision making. It was getting quite repetitive to have those conversations - for thinking of herself that highly, Principal Weems wasn't acting as much as the evil mastermind Wednesday had longed to meet.

"She told me to stay on the grounds for the foreseeable future and should I be caught, I'd be 'facing consequences you won't like Miss Addams'."

There wasn't a need to put up the gesture or air quotations as her voice dropped into the sickly sweet tone Wednesday only ever used when she was forced to talk about her principal.

"Ah my darling!" Gomez exclaimed delighted and clapped his hands, "getting threatened by a teacher? We told you, you'd love the school!"

"It has become-" Wednesday whipped her head around. Someone was in the room with her.

And not one of her summoned spirits.

The mirror on Enid's side reflected an empty room but Wednesday felt the cold presence nonetheless.

"I got you the pig's blood for the ceremony, my sweet angel of death!"

A moment later, Y/N was leaning over Wednesday's desk chair and planted a kiss on her cheek for good measure.

"I told you not to call me that." Wednesday turned and fixed her with her most terrifying glare.

But Y/N just grinned wide enough to show off her pointed teeth and held up the bags of blood. Nothing quite romantic as the idle threat of being mauled to death by your girlfriend. Wednesday knew why she chose her. "And I keep ignoring it."

"You're a menace, bloodsucker."

"Now now, what was that about pet names, ma fleur du mort?"

Someone cleared their throat behind them.

Both of their eyes shot back to the crystal ball where Gomez was clutching Morticia's hand, there faces filled with confusion and - happiness? Ugh.

Pugsley was doing his best to suppress the shit eating grin. "'My sweet angel of death' Wednesday? Really?"

"Make fun of Y/N and I will use your spinal chord as my new bow for my cello."

Y/N damn near choked on her own spit next to her. Not that Wednesday cared particularly - right now, she needed her family to stop being normal about her relationship.

Of course, she still reached for Y/N's hand and hooked her fingers around her wrist to drag her down next to her.

"Pig's blood for a ritual with her girlfriend? Cara mia, our little girl is growing up so fast!" Gomez clutched Morticia's hand between his and pressed it to his chest.

Her mother tilted her head just so and studied Y/N intently. Wednesday resorted to glaring at her in return. She could feel Y/N tense up under Morticia's gaze so Wednesday took the metaphorical bullet and spoke up.

"I am. In fact, we have to leave now or the moon will be too high in the sky for us."

"Very well my dear," her mother had stopped the x-ray stare and was smiling down at their interlocked hands. Then her eyes wandered up to meet Y/N's. "I hope you two are having fun."

"At least as much as your mother and I had when we were your age," Gomez added with a wink.

"We need to go now," Wednesday emphasised again and threw the black fabric across the crystal ball.

The connection cut off almost instantly. Though not fast enough not to hear Gomez delighted chuckling and Morticia's agreeable humming.

"Your parents are quite something else," Y/N remarked as she caught up to her girlfriend who was already halfway across the room to the window.

Wednesday merely opened a panel and looked at her unimpressed. "We really need to get going."

Y/N slipped out and wrapped her arm around Wednesday's shoulders to pull her into her side and brushed a kiss to her temple. The effect was instant - Wednesday ever so lightly relaxed and her lips quirked up just a little bit.

"And you really are a menace," she added but wound her own arm around Y/N's waist.

Unsurprisingly, Y/N wasn’t affected by the accusation in the slightest. Instead she laughed. "You wouldn't want it any other way."

Wednesday sighed. "Let's light those candles already, bloodsucker."

"Whatever you wish ma fleur du mort."

Join a Taglist!