#nothing like starting your kid out in life by reading a book that begins with their father trying to kill them

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - pilot

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: A little warmup chapter. Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[part 1]

“We would like to meet Oliver’s father. His biological father,” the principal clarified as he glanced over at your boyfriend. You’d been together for three years, he had been by your five-year-old’s side for over half his life, why wasn’t he enough?

But he insisted on meeting him, saying if he was dead and you could prove it, or if your boyfriend was your husband, they would move on with the enrollment, but you had confirmed that you weren’t married and the biological father was alive, so now they wanted to have a chat with him. He didn’t even care about the tiny little detail that said father had absolutely no idea he had a child. What a bunch of morons.

In the evening, while your son was reading a book about cars in his bed with your boyfriend, you sat by the dining table with your phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. This fancy private school was perfect, they knew how to handle intelligent kids like Oliver, and you wanted the best for him. You wanted to make sure he didn’t get bored, that he would get the kind of intellectual challenge in school that he needed.

At the age of five, he could read on his own just fine, he even learned some Spanish from your boyfriend, and he was a quick study in general. It was infuriating how he was a mini version of his father, from his intelligence to his looks, everything reminded you of him. And if you met F1 fans together, someone surely went, “He looks so much like Piastri at his age!” Sadly, that wasn’t a coincidence, and the poor kid picked up on the whole you-look-like-him thing and chose him as his favorite driver.

Sometimes you consider telling him. Oliver, not Oscar. God, there was no way you would ever tell him the truth. He had his own, certainly busy life and he probably didn’t need a child in it. Yes, you saw the photos, he was good with kids, but meeting one for a few minutes wasn’t the same as having your own. Your son on the other hand could find out when he got old enough to understand why you had left and went no contact with his father. That was over ten years away, of course, so you had time to figure out what to do. Until then, you made sure the few photos of you and Oscar were stored somewhere safe in case he wanted to see them when the time came.

Now you were cornered, your hand forced by that damn principal. You had no idea if he was still using that old social media profile of his, but you had to try. So, you took a deep breath and started a call, deep down hoping he wouldn’t answer. You weren’t ready to talk to him, not yet, but you had no choice. And then his face showed up on your screen, the sight bringing back memories you’d been trying to forget for years.

“Hey. Are you sure it’s me you wanted to call?” he asked, although there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Nodding, you let out a sigh. “Hi. Yeah, um… I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning?”

Silence followed his words, your brain in overdrive as it tried to find the best way to start. But maybe being straightforward was the right answer. “I have a son. He’s five,” you added, hoping the meaningful look you were sending his way could be seen over the screen.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, you could see the wheels turning in his head as he did some math. “Wait, five? We… That was a bit over five years ago. Could he…?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “He’s your son.”

His face was emotionless for a while as he tried to process the news, but this was nothing new, he was the king of hiding emotions. But then, just as you thought he would end the call, he let out a sigh. “Why now? What do you want from me? Money?” he asked, although you could tell he was unsure about this whole situation.

The fact he assumed you wanted money only made you angry. “It’s not your money I need. Hell, I don’t even want you to meet him,” you snapped. “The thing is, there’s this private school I want to send him to, and they have this stupid rule to have both parents present at a parental interview. Since my boyfriend and I never got married, they want to see the biological father. That’s all I want. A meeting with the principal.”

Oscar put up a finger as he bit on his lower lip, his eyes focusing on something behind his phone’s camera. “Let me get this straight. After all these years, you say I have a son, but I’m not allowed to meet him?” he then asked, looking back at you.

“Yeah.”

“One meeting,” he then stated, his voice serious. “You let me meet him once and I’ll talk to that principal.”

“Oscar, come on.”

“That’s the deal I can offer.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that. If he didn’t do it for Oliver, he would have to go to another school. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you nodded. “But we don’t tell him that you’re his father. He watches F1, and since he looks a lot like you, he decided that you’re his favorite driver. That’s all you’re gonna be, nothing more.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I,” Oscar began hesitantly, and you could see as he sat down on his couch and looked up at the ceiling. “You just told me I had a son. What do you want from me, to forget it? I want to meet him. I want him to know who I am.”

“He’s five. If he finds out, he’ll want to see you again. He will want you to be a part of his life. I don’t want that.”

You could see he was uncertain about this. He probably understood that becoming his father would mean he would have to regularly visit the two of you, and even if you all kept it a secret, there was still the risk of the truth slipping out and making it into the headlines. “Is he anything like me?” he suddenly asked, his eyes softening as he watched you. 

A smile crept on your lips as you thought about this, because it was so painfully obvious to you that you couldn’t deny it, no matter how badly you wanted to do that. “He’s a highly intelligent little smartass, just like you. And his looks… A mini you, no doubt.”

Oscar nodded. “Then I want to be a part of his life. Let me spend time with him,” he asked, seeming relaxed. 

“Two hours.”

“No, I’ll stay for a week, and I want to see him every day,” he was quick to clarify. “I can look out for him while you’re at work.”

Whatever happened to the idea of meeting Oliver once? That’s not what you had just discussed, and now he was changing his demands? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” was all you said in the end.

“You said it yourself, I’m his favorite driver,” he pointed out with a smug smile. “We’ll be fine.”

You were doing this only because of the school. You remembered what Oscar could be like; if he made up his mind about something, he definitely wasn’t about to let his plan go. Now he wanted a week with his son, and you knew that was the only way he would do what you needed from him. “All right. Can I send you the school’s number so you can make an appointment? I told them you travel a lot, so they’ll need to be flexible.”

“Sure, I’ll call them as soon as I can.” You thanked him, and were just about to say goodbye when he spoke up again. “Wait, can you send me a photo or a video?”

“Yeah, I have a few hundred of those,” you replied with a smile.

Oscar remained silent, but he let out a sigh and you knew something was on his mind, something he wanted to tell you. “I still have a hard time believing it, you know.”

“You seemed pretty confident when it came to getting to know him.”

“I wanted to use my chance to corner you,” he admitted. “But this? That I have a son? Hard to believe.”

“Well, he’s yours. You’ll understand it when you meet him,” you told him kindly. 

After you said goodbye, you went up to check on Oliver and your boyfriend, but by the time you got there, they were sleeping soundly with the open book resting on your son’s chest. With a smile, you took the book and leaned down to give both of them a soft kiss. You couldn’t help but wonder how your little family’s dynamics would change with Oscar’s presence. 

Well, it wasn’t really your son you were worried about, the main issue was your boyfriend. Oscar was a famous F1 driver, someone your son idolized, of course he felt threatened. You told him it would be okay, that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, but he didn’t seem convinced. Maybe if they met and he saw you were indifferent, he would finally trust you a lot more. One can hope, right?

[milkteahood]

texas heat

Thomas Hewitt x fem!reader

Warning: smut! minors dni!!!

Summary: basically a smut with a plot

Sweat broke on your forehead as you wiped it still half asleep. It was terribly hot to even rest. As your eyes opened and started to adjust to the darkness around you, thoughts about the whole situation were still fresh in your mind. How long has it been? You thought to yourself. A few months maybe? 4? 5?

You stopped counting the days after the first few weeks. What for anyway? It wasn’t like you were ever leaving.

***

“Come on boys! We are completely lost!” your friend spoke, gesturing with her hands.

“It’s fine! It’s all good. A little detour” the driver laughed without a care in the world.

“That’s right Sam! Stop being so difficult. Look, Y/N isn’t saying anything” the other guy talked from the passenger’s seat.

At the mention of your name, you looked up from your book, and then quickly got back to it. You weren’t actually reading, but they weren’t paying attention to that. If they did, they would’ve seen you didn’t turn any page in the last 5 minutes. Pretending was just a good excuse to be out of this circus of conversation.

You didn’t consider any of them your friends. And you were sure they didn’t think of you as that either. They were Sam’s friends. And Sam was your friend out of convenience, just as you were to her. You wanted to travel, and she didn’t want to be the only girl on the trip.

“Come on Y/N!” Sam started “whose side are you on?”

“Maybe we should stop and ask for directions” you finally raised a point.

“Yeah? And where the fuck would we stop for that?” the driver asked “there is nothing around here!”

A sigh escaped your lips and you finally put the book down, looking out the window. Then, suddenly, you pressed your finger on the window, gesturing in the distance “there, it looks like a house”.

Little did any of you know this was the beginning of a whole new chapter in your life.

***

Rubbing your eyes, you looked at the little clock on your nightstand. 11:30 pm it said. It wasn’t that late, yet you couldn’t remember when you fell asleep. Realistically, the only one still awake was Thomas. The thought of that made you freeze in place. Oh yes, you thought to yourself again the summer isn’t the only reason I can’t sleep.

Another sigh left your lips. You didn’t think you would end up in this situation. Spared by a bunch of cannibals for the sole reason you smacked the driver when he started insulting Thomas.

***

“Hello?” the driver’s friend… Jason? Jack? Jeremy? J something. You couldn’t remember. Your name memory was never your strongest suit.

“Hello?” J began knocking again. And a second time. Just before knocking for a 3rd time, a woman opened the door.

“Yes? Who are you?” she spoke.

“Oh hello ma’am!” Sam approached “we are completely lost. We were wondering if you could give us any directions”

Luda Mae looked all of you up and down before speaking “come inside. You will die of the heat before you get any directions”

The boys looked at each other and you looked at Sam. But ultimately decided to follow the lady inside.

***

The memories were still fresh and you were sure they would be for the rest of your life. As you lay on your back, looking around the room, you felt your heart skip a beat as another thought made itself apparent. Thomas. Or better said. Your crush on Thomas. In the past month or so, you tried your best to get close to him. You offered to help with everything and anything he needed. Yet, he did his best to avoid you. You weren’t dumb, you knew exactly why. He was absolutely terrified at the idea you’re just fucking around. Lying. Being nice to him so he wouldn’t kill you.

“For fucks sake Thomas. I was nice to you even before I knew you butchered people for a living” you whispered yelled alone, in your room.

***

“So kids, how did you end up here?” Luda Mae asked, trying to see if you would make a good addition to the Hewitt meat supply. Were you going somewhere? Was someone important waiting for you? What was the chance of people coming to look for you? Those were important questions that needed answers. They couldn’t risk killing someone that could potentially lead the police to them.

As the conversation was unfolding, the driver and J became more and more impatient to leave, and your head cocked when hearing some footsteps. Before you realized it, this massive man was sitting in the doorway, breathing heavily, not saying a word.

“Oh Tommy! Look! We have guests” Luda Mae said, looking at her son. Thomas was tall, a huge man, his apron covered in blood.

“Oh fuck! What the fuck is that? He looks like—” the driver said but didn’t get to finish whatever insults he was going to spew because you smacked him.

“Just shut up. For once. Not everything revolves around you and your daddy’s money. You can’t just speak this way to people” you said, while he looked you completely shocked. No one has ever dared speak to him that way. Let alone slap him.

And that was the moment Luda Mae decided you would be the only one left alive.

***

The floor was cooler than the bed. You stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was so dark you could barely see, only managing to make out your silhouette. You stood there for a while, thinking of what you should do.

You liked Thomas from the moment you saw him. You tried to befriend him but all he did was ignore you. On the occasions he actually had to interact with you, he looked so tense, like he was on the verge of exploding. You tried to give him space, but it wasn’t really helping. And now you were pacing around your room, unable to sleep because all you wanted was Thomas. The man who killed your “friends”.

What the fuck is wrong with me… he’s a murderer, his whole family is crazy.

Yes and so are you. I mean, you’re not running. You think he’s hot. This man could dismember you in a heartbeat and you think he is attractive. Talk about fucked up.

You frowned at your own thoughts. Thomas wasn’t a monster. He did what he had to. Yet what was your excuse? Falling for him?

Your heart started racing. Yes, you were falling for him.

After what seemed like an eternity, you went out of your room, down the stairs and into the living room. You stopped in front of the basement stairs and listened. Thomas was definitely still down there and it was now or never.

In the basement Thomas was still butchering some meat, not hearing you walk in over the sound of his cleaver. He didn’t like you coming there, he always thought you would judge him, mock him even.

“Thomas” you spoke, your voice making him stop with the cleaver still in the air. He lowered it and turned to you, not saying anything.

“It’s late Thomas. Maybe you should call it a day” you spoke softly, almost afraid to startle him.

You didn’t get a response. Then, he just turned around and continued what he was doing.

This made you frown and it hurt a little. Maybe he was not liking you as much as you liked him. Maybe he didn’t like you at all. However this couldn’t be further from the truth. He did like you. A lot. Which is why he was so scared to be around you.

You bit your lip, a little too hard, and decided to approach him. The second your hand touched his arm, Thomas completely froze. His body was incredibly tense and all he managed to do was look at you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” you tilted your head “you always seem to ignore me. I’m sorry if I upset you at all”.

Thomas’s wide widened. You were apologizing to him? What for? You thought he was mad at you? But how could he? He grunted back at you. In the beginning it was very difficult to understand him, but now you could make up the words he was saying. He said no.

“Well then what is it?” you pressed him, gently rubbing his arm. His eyes looked like they could come out of his head, immediately shifting his gaze away from you, almost shaking.

“Thomas, Tommy, oh no” you reached for his other hand which was still tight around the cleaver. Gesturing for him to let it go, you managed to turn him so he’d face you. “You’re ok. Everything is ok” you said, looking at him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. I’m sorry. I will go upstairs” you gave him a bit of a sad smile and turned to walk away. Yet, you didn’t get to take two steps before he stopped you. As you turned to him, he gave you another grunt. Stay. This one meant stay.

Both of you were blushing. Your brave girl facade paled the moment you felt his hand around your arm. Compared to him, you were incredibly tiny and for that, he treated you as if you were made of glass. Because to him, you were.

You stepped in front of him, both of you looking at each other. You learned to be gentle with him, maybe even more gentle than he was with you. Because unlike you, he never had people not be terrified of him.

Smiling, you cupped his face in your hands, which caught him off guard, but he didn’t stop you. For whatever reason, you were here, you didn’t try to run away, and you were kind to him. Before he knew it, he was leaning into your touch.

“Tommy?”

He opened his eyes, waiting for you to continue.

“I really like you, Thomas”

His now open eyes were widened, staring at you, almost looking through you, waiting to see any shred of dishonesty. But there was none. You were genuine. He then couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with you. How could you like him? No. He didn’t care. You liked him. And he was going to take it.

He didn’t realize some time passed without giving you an answer, which caused you to mumble another apology. He, however, didn’t let you finish. You soon found yourself in a hug. A very tight hug. Which you happily reciprocated.

After pulling away, you both looked at each other and without much of a second thought, you pulled the other into a kiss. It was reckless and full of built up frustrations on both parts. You were the first to pull away.

“Thomas.. it’s difficult to kiss you with that mask on”

He didn’t say anything and looked away. He didn’t want to show you. There was finally something he had and showing you his face might ruin it. He grunted a no.

“Please..” you pleaded while cupping his face again.

He damned himself for being so weak around you. You looked sad and a little disappointed. He let out a huge sigh and slowly took off his mask, letting it fall on the floor and completely avoiding your gaze. Whatever disgusted face you made, he didn’t want to see. Only if he looked to see it was not disgust but love.

“Fuck me you’re handsome” was all you said before pulling him in and kissing him again. He looked like a deer in headlights, but quickly melted into your kiss, picking you up and placing you on his workbench.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your hands pulling at his hair while he was tightly holding you by your waist. You felt his erection press against you, so you pushed yourself closer to him, which caused Thomas to grunt and moan into the kiss.

Thomas was the one to pull away this time, spending some time admiring you. Slowly, you started to unbutton his shirt “you can help me with mine if you want” you said a little flustered.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Once you felt his excitement, you knew Thomas was coming out of his shell. Soon enough yours and his shirts were thrown on the floor, and you were making out on the cold and hard workbench. You didn’t care, you also didn’t care that his grips wound leave bruises. You just wanted him. He cupped your breast, gently squeezing, earning himself a moan from you and the confirmation that he is doing it right.

“Please Tommy” you whined between kisses, tugging at his belt.

He wanted to so bad. But what if he hurt you? He had no what what he was doing. But how could he resist you? His whole body was shaking, you were begging him to have sex with you. Him. He pulled away from the kiss and quickly undid his belt and pants, making himself moan as he pulled his cock out. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Thomas naked in front of you. You look off your underwear and pull him into another kiss.

You didn’t think much before starting to palm his length, causing him to moan into your mouth. Thomas started thrusting as you were stroking him. He could cum just like that, but you wanted more. And he did too.

As your back rested on the cold table, Thomas climbed on top of you, neither daring to break the kiss. You couldn’t even wrap your legs around him, a detail he found really cute. He pulled away from the kiss only to look at your expression again. Was this really ok? Is this really what you wanted? You looked so beautiful and so turned on. Rubbing yourself against his erection was all the confirmation he needed before slowly starting to push his cock into you.

Feeling him inside you completely knocked the air out of you, immediately kissing him again, moaning into his mouth. Your figure, your voice, your shaking body were making Thomas go feral. His grunts on the other hand made your whole stomach feel hot. Thomas was thrusting into you, firmly holding your waist with one hand and supporting himself up with the other. Your arms were wrapped around his back, face buried into his neck, trying to muffle your moans.

He was hitting all the right spots, causing your mind to go blank and your nails to dig into his skin. Once his voice became shakier, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned and he responded by thrusting even harder. It was almost as if your every moan was making Thomas go more feral.

His rhythm was becoming more erratic, signaling that he was getting closer.

“It ok Tommy” you said between moans “I want you. Fill me up, please Tommy”.

Saying that was enough to push him over the edge. After a few more thrusts he came with a low, guttural moan, completely intoxicated by you.

You were both panting and looking at each other afterward. He couldn’t believe what just happened. Were you a dream? No. You were there, smiling at him. Did that mean you were his now? Yes. Most definitely.

He picked you up off of the table, squeezing you close to him. He was still panting and so were you, yet, both happy and finally content.

[familyvideostevie]

time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve. 

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure. 

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

__

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened. 

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease. 

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself. 

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. 

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

__

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says. 

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make. 

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do. 

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

[superstarcherrycolagirl]

i might as well be drunk in love

“slut!” by taylor swift

benny cross x fem!reader / 1.4k words

idea: you’re drunk, and benny takes care of you after a long night out

tw: drinking, swearing, so fluffy it’s sickening

notes: this is my first big piece that I’ve wrote and omg it took FOREVER !! i haven’t been able to stop thinking about “the bikeriders” she literally consumes my every waking thought AHH !! anyway i hope you guys enjoy reading this:))

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

it’s just about 4 in the morning and you and benny just made it back home to your place. you’d been so busy this week due to picking up more shifts at the library so you would be able to pay off the rent by the end of the month, groceries, and afford to buy a little more thread to stitch up a pair of your jeans and the large tear on bennys jacket. not only was that stressful, but throughout the week you had to deal with some grouchy elderly women, preverted college boys (‘pinkos’ as zipco would call them), and multiple groups of chaotic elementary school students who were checking out their books for the semester, and only to have a slice of toast, scorching hot coffee with no milk OR sugar, and fucking prayer holding you together. so yes, this night out was a well deserved one. but who’s kidding? you needed that shit! now here you are, barely getting up the stairs to your apartment as benny holds onto you for dear life.

as you both stood outside of your apartment door, benny began digging for his copy of keys in his pocket while leaning you up against his side and adjusting his hold on your hip. he draped his jacket over you before you hopped onto his bike to head home, leaving him in his tattered sleeveless black shirt against the cold chicago air.

“sorry baby, turns out the key were in the other po-“ “y’arms are so pretty honey.. like-i like how they feel ‘round me” you cut him off with slurred words as you drunkenly gazed up at him.

“can’t believe i get to see them all t’time, for m’self, a-and nobody else gets ta have ‘em but me.. a’like when they hold me when it’s real cold..o-or hot.. or ‘round the pillows or the flowers ya get me.. or when ya’ cuddlin’ lula.. oh i hope she’s not t’cold, v’missed her so much.. she’s probably sad that her mama and daddy were gone all night-“ at this point benny could only chuckle as his girl jumped from talking about his arms to their sweet black cat lula, it made his heart swell.

once he got you into your apartment he began walking you straight towards your bed, as your giggles and drunk thoughts echoed down the hallway “no b-benny i don’t wanna t’sleep yet, i wanna watch t’bakin’ show on channel 6, they be makin some.. some of them valen..tines treats a-and i wanna try” you began to whine as benny sat you down at the edge of your bed, kneeling in front of you as he begins unbuckling the straps of your red kitten heels “yeah we can watch some baby, d’worry, jus’ wanna getcha out of these ‘nd this dress” “thought ‘ya liked me in this dress? grabbed these heels to match with em’” you said sadly, your eyes starting to droop.

benny looked up at you and could see the slight pout on your face, so he moved his left hand to caress your thigh “oh y’know i love this dress, but that tiny little nightie a’yours, that pretty pink flower in the middle that barely covers you up, takes the cake for me” he says as he moves closer to you “re-eally?” “yeah baby, she’s m’favorite” his voice gets muffled as he places some kisses on the tops of your thighs, still looking right back up at your sleepy eyes “but i love everythin’ that you wear.. especially when you wear nothing” he says with a smirk on his face, and had stopped your whining and shut you up instantly.

after getting your heels off benny helps you stand up to start taking off your clothes. the jacket was first to go, as he tossed it on top of your vanity chair. he then pushed the straps of your red gingham dress down which slowly began to fall to the floor. you were left in the dainty lingerie set you’d picked out for the night; the blush pink fabric with the lacy details matching the drunken flush on your face. benny takes his time to get a look at you, rubbing his callused hands up and down your sides. he knows that all the shifts you’ve picked up and the deadlines of payments have been making you stressed, so he just wants to take care of you tonight, although it won’t come close to repay you for all the sacrifices you make for him.

after benny unclasped your bra, he swiftly moved to your side of the bed and grabbed your linen night gown “arms up for me baby” you obliged, sleepily raising your arms above your head you momentarily close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric against your skin. but you felt something else. something running along your legs. was that fuzz? you didn’t wear socks with your heels tonight and benny already tossed your dress into the laundry bin. you were stumped until you heard a rumbling sound from beneath you. purring.

“oh lula! l-look honey s’lula! she’s purring up ‘gainst me!!” you gleamed to benny, as he too was receiving affection from lula. “she’s happy that her mama and daddy are back home, right honey? home?” benny ever so slightly teased, but out of love of his girls’ adorable rambles. “yeah. home” you said with a smile. now after changing benny walks you over to your side of the bed. he sat you down facing him, but paused briefly as he realized he forgot to take some of your jewelry off.

“one second mama, forgot to get this necklace and these hoops off, i know you sleepy but i’ll be quick” he said, quickly and gently taking them off “i told ya’ i ain’t sleepy.. gotta.. we gotta still watch our show ‘member?” “y’right baby, our show” a chuckle left his mouth; of course he remembered, but he wanted you to take the credit for remembering about it as you were fighting to stay awake. “what would i do without you baby? hmm?” “d’know ben-baby, but don’t worry, y.. ya’ have me” “and you have me baby. m’sweet baby” benny’s words became muffled as he held your jaw and kissed you deeply before placing your jewlery down on the nightstand. you were finally lying down after benny got you comfortable. he then quickly stripped down to his boxers and swapped his black shirt for a white wifebeater before joining you in bed.

just by looking at you he could tell that you were barely awake, but sticking to his word, he turned the tv onto channel 6, as clips of a dessert with chocolate and some kind of fruit in it come across the screen. strawberries? or raspberries? hell, cherries? he could not tell.

as the sounds of the baking show filled the room benny shifted you closer to him, so you could rest on his chest. “did you have a good time tonight baby? i know you’ve been excited about this meeting all week” he asked you softly. you let yourself finally close your eyes, knowing that it was okay to rest now “s’so fun.. ears are ringin’ a lil.. but had so fun with t’girls, and t’club,” benny notices that your sentences are making less sense as you are just moments away from knocking out, but he was able to make out one coherent sentence of yours before that “but i had t’most fun with ya’ tonight.. ya’ lit up m’whole night honey” seconds away from slipping into your own dream land, he had to admit, you saying that so effortlessly made his breath hitch in his throat. he didn’t have a care for anything outside the club until he met you, and you have completely flipped his life upside down because of it. it gave him meaning to ride home late at night knowing he was coming back home to you. it gave him purpose to always come back to you, regardless of what’s going on through his mind. you are there for him, you are there to care for him, laugh with him, cry with him, and to just love him for the person he is. you are there for him. you are it for him “and you light up my life baby, my light”

he reaches his hand over to turn off the little lamp on his side of the bed and when he turned his head back to look at you, you were fast asleep; soft snores leaving your mouth. he could only smile, knowing that you can get the deserved rest you’ve needed “love you so much sweet girl, with my whole heart” he kisses the top of your head as lula leaps onto the bed to join her mama and daddy for cuddles.

peace and quiet at last.

[ja3yun]

Can i make a request?

Y/n saw this post and rant about bf!jake about this, only to be pounded by him as peace offering (breeding kink, talks about marriage, overstimulation) 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

https://twitter.com/asterjwon/status/1762378305490338241?t=yDIAkzHkDVx87C4_6BjXJg&s=19

hi! I don't normally take requests but this one was too good. the video has plagued me since i saw it 😩 when will it be me? hope this what you're looking for!

warnings: smut (mdni), breeding kink, overstimulation, cream pie, tummy bulge, mentions of jealousy and pregnancy, not proofread, anything else lmk!

w.c: 1.2k

-----

“I can’t believe you,” you scoff, folding your arms to mimic the disgruntledness within your body.

Jake stares at you bewildered, “Seriously? Because I put a ring on a fan's finger?” you’re usually so understanding about these things. Typically, you never bother being jealous, he’s always been flirty with others, his fanservice on another level compared to others.

So why is this one bothering you so much?

“You don’t get it, Jake. Just forget it,” your voice is wavering but you hide it behind a deep breath.”

He walks towards you, cupping your cheek with his hand, “Are you really gonna act like this?” his words are harsh but he’s only trying to coax an explination from you, “It’s my job, Y/N.”

“I know it’s part of your job, Jake, I’m not stupid,” you bite back, pushing him away slightly.

Jake stands there, not used to this cold side of you, it makes him think if this has just beem bottling up inside you since you both started dating.

Sighing, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration, “I know you”re not stupid, but fuck Y/N, I can’t read your mind,” his voice raises slightly but he’s trying to keep his composure.

“You’re so quick to accept marraige proposals, get fake married at fansigns, and speak all day like about your future wife on lives but as soon as I want to talk about us and our future, you cower away!” you let it all out, the tension in your shoulders lifting slightly from all the pent up anger.

You’ve been holding it in for months but placing a ring on another woman’s finger, fan or not, has tipped you over the edge. Jake has avoided any talk regarding marriage or kids, opting to make a quick lighthearted joke or changing the subject, however, there is only so many ‘we can start practising’ and ‘did you see that book you like is beng made into a movie’ you can take.

After you’ve ranted about your troubles, you hear the unthinkable - he laughs. Not like a hearty laugh but a snicker which somehow is even worse.

“Are you seriously laughing about this right now?” you glare at him, hoping you just heard wrong, yet there he is, smiling his head off.

He glides towards you, placing his hands on your hips, “Baby, no, I’m not laughing,” he said through chuckles which obviously doesn’t help his case, “You’re just so cute when you’re jealous.”

Brushing your hair away from your neck, he begins to scatter kisses all over the base, working his way up. His lips linger, tongue flicking on your skin ever so slightly just to tease you.

Losing focus, you stutter, “I-I’m not jealous.”

“But you are, baby,” his grip tightens a little on your hips as he presses himself against you, eliciting a moan from you, “You know you have nothing to be jealous of.”

He trails his fingers from your waist to the bottom of your tummy, playing with the waistband of your trousers. His sudden provocative touch making you crumble, forgetting what you’re even angry about.

“You’re the only one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with,” he whispers into your ear, the tips of his fingers crawling into your trousers and placing themselves teasingly at your entrance, “And you’re certainly the only one I’m fucking and filling up with my cum,” two of his fingers enter you suddenly, you grip onto his shoulders.

His thumb attaches itself to your clit, rubbing it roughly as his fingrr curl into you. Jake’s lips are ghosting over yours as he smirks, feeling your ragged breath, “You like that idea hmm? For me to make you mine and marry you? Fuck my kids into you?” his spare hand sneaks under your t-shirt and rubs over your stomach tenderly, “What if I fill you up until you’re so full there’s no choice but to get pregnant?”

You’ve never been more turned on in your life, the mix of his words with the way his fingers are moving inside your pussy so deliciously has you purring.

But before you can get too comfortable, he pushes you onto the bed and yanks your bottoms down, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

Once he discards you and him of all your clothes, he crawls onto you, his hand resuming his previous activities, except this time with more vigour. His cock throbs as it sits on your inner thigh, only making you ache more for him.

Jake focuses on rubbing your sensitive nub, feeling how close you are already, “Who did you think I meant when I spoke about my future wife?” he smooches along the mounts of your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth as he passes them.

Your head is cloudy, too lost in the feeling of his lips on you and his fingers working you open, your clit throbbing on his thumb. The mewls that are falling from your mouth hit him straight to his cock, making it jump slightly.

“Cmon, Y/N, who did you think I was talking about?” he asks again, picking up the speed of his digits.

“M-me,” you breathe out after mustering up the words that are tangled in your pleasure.

“So why the jealousy, hmm?” his voice is too calm, a stark opposite to your writhing body and busy mind. He can feel your walls clamping down and your slick dripping down his hand, indicating how close you are, “You’re so silly, baby,” he mocks you slightly but only because he can’t imagine why you would take his fanservice to heart like that.

You feel the familiar heat rising in your stomach as you tense, feeling your climax wash over you, “Fuck, Jake!,” you cry out his name while you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

The sensation of you coming undone only serves to fuel his desires even more, his dick longing to be the one you’re squeezing around. Swiftly, he removes his hand from your heat, leaving you empty but not for long.

Quickly, he lines up at your entrance and pushes inside you, your hole still contracting and tight from your orgasm. He isn’t giving you a moment to breathe, to recover from your climax.

Jake’s thrusts drive into you at great speed, the way your walls are hugging him tightly is driving him to pound into you deeper.

“You feel so fucking incredible,” he huskily whispers, his thumb back on the attack of your bud.

Your pussy is being overstimulated, each thrust of his hips and rub from his thumb has you thrashing around under him, a mix of pain and pleasure, “Jake, s’too much,” you groan as your hands weakly try to hold his hips still.

But he is too far gone, lost inside you, “You want me to stop?” he asks cheekily, a smirk splayed over his face, “Isn’t this what you want? For me to fill you up?”

Your clit is burning, your hole is being stretched beyond belief and you really don’t want him to stop, not your mind anyway, yet your body is trying to fight him, the overstimulation all a bit too much.

It feels so fucking good though.

Jake is getting close, you can tell when his hips faulter slightly and his jaw tenses. You want him to cum soon, if not to give your pussy a break, to give you what you desperately crave.

Reaching down, you clasp your hand around his wrist and remove his thumb from your nub - relief instantly washing over you - and place it on your stomach, his cock bulging with each buck of his hips.

He looks down and feels it, the tip of his cock poking out just under your belly button, “Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna look so cute carrying our kid,” he says whistfully, voice full of love and adoration.

Kissing your lips hungrily, you feel another orgasm flushing through your body, that coil snapping once again as you clench his length, legs wrapping around him to hold him still as you ride it out.

Jake spurts ropes of his seed deep into you, making good of his promise to fill you up. The pulse of his dick adds even more gratification to you, the feeling of it jumping inside you makes you shake.

The room is filled with echoes of your shared pants and profanities, Jake's body falling on top of you once he’s rode out his high.

Looking up at you, his head laid on your chest, he smiles, “You’re unreal.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, you nod in agreement, “You too, baby,” you lean down to kiss his forehead lovingly.

“You know, I can’t wait to marry you,” he begins to speak, tracing shapes into your side, “I just want it to be at a time in our lives where I can actually be there for you. Once we’re settled and I’m not touring twenty-four seven. I want you to have a husband that’s always there when you need him, to help raise our family.”

His confession throws you off a little but your heart soars at the realisation that he has thought about your future together just as much as you have.

“And I promise, I won’t place rings on anyone’s fingers unless it’s yours,” he beams up at you, meaning every single word.

-----

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

I Think I Like This Little Life

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: fluff and angst

Summary: You’re getting too comfortable in the life you’ve built for yourself that you make a terrible mistake, one that might make you leave it sooner than you plan to. Three rules. That’s it. Now, you’ve broken one.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: eye color for @mfbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Then

The citizens of Yacleira walk around the town’s square either buying food for their families or clothing for their children. Kids run around in laughter without a care as to who they might be bothering. Families roam about and you lean against the balcony railing with a sigh. Oh, how you wish to have what they have. Couples seem so in love with each other, content to live their lives with the love of their life and children.

You wish that could be you but you know that as long as you stay Princess of Yacleira, you can’t ever have that. You’re destined to marry a prince you don’t even love. He’s nice and kind to his people but there is no spark there. You want a love so passionate and consuming that it takes over your entire life. You want someone to love you because they want to, not because they have to. You want to be someone’s first choice. You want to feel a sense of adventure because you don’t get it here.

You’re stuck in this castle all day and night and if you leave, you have to have an array of bodyguards at your side. Grass isn’t always greener on the other side, but you’d rather take the life of a commoner than the life of a Princess. Someone points to you from the town square and waves enthusiastically, and you wave back politely.

“So, this is where you disappeared to.”

You don’t have to turn to know who is behind you.

“I needed to get away. All those people telling me how great I am gets exhausting.” You turn to face Benjamin, your trusted bodyguard. “Mother doesn’t understand.”

“I understand. I can see how this entire thing is stressing you out when it shouldn’t.” He joins your side by the railing and you both look at the town’s square below. “I see how you look at them. You want to be them.”

“Tell me what I should do. I do not want this. I do not love Henry. I care about my country and I want what is best for it but not at the expense of my happiness.”

“I might be able to help with that.”

“How?”

“I have watched over you since you were born. I want nothing more than to help you become as happy as you can be. I can get you out.”

“What do you mean? Out of Yacleira?”

“Yes. I have a trusted friend in the United States, Don Stockwell, who will watch over you. He’ll take care of you and keep you safe so you may live a normal life.”

“What about you? Surely Mother and Father will find out about this. You’ll get hanged for your crimes.”

He steps closer to you and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Do not worry about me. I cannot stand to see you this way.”

You pull Benjamin into a tight hug.

“I truly do not deserve you.”

“You have three things to remember. No trouble, stay out of the news, and no pictures. You don’t want to ruin things before you can truly start living your life.”

“Okay,” you nod.

Now

Back in Yacleira, you spent a lot of time in the library where you took pride in reading to children every week--children who didn’t have a lot of education to begin with. To see their smiles brought you so much joy and you want to spread that joy to Spencer. He told you his love for books without going into too much detail so you’re at the local library picking out books you think he might enjoy.

“Interested in historical fiction, I see.” You look to your right and see a young man with dark brown hair and baggy clothes. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. It’s for my… it’s for someone I know.” You’re not sure what to call Spencer yet. You’ve been on two dates, and you don’t know if that qualifies you two as boyfriend and girlfriend. “Do you like historical fiction?”

“Yeah, I’m more into non-fiction but there are some good fiction books out there.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I was sitting over there doing some work when I noticed you over here and I have to say I think you’re really pretty.”

“Thank you. I gotta go but it was nice meeting you.”

You take the books you picked out and leave the stranger’s side. Once you purchase them, you walk to the BAU which is only a few blocks from where the library is. After signing in at the front desk, you take the elevator up to the bullpen. You’re not going to be here for long but you wanted to see the look on Spencer’s face when you give him the books.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you doing here?”

JJ walks to you from the break room.

“I’m here to see Spencer. I know you guys are busy so I won’t stay long. Plus, I have to go to work soon.”

“Head to his desk and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

You walk to his desk and set the books on it while you wait. Spencer doesn’t keep you waiting long and joins your side.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer pauses, having heard what that might have sounded like. “I mean, I’m glad to see you, don’t get me wrong.”

“I wanted to give you some of these books. I hope you like the. You said you wanted to start reading more historical fiction, and I have read all of these. They’re really good.”

“No way, that’s so nice. Thank you.” He picks up two of them and smiles widely. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Well, you took my mini-golfing last week which was so much fun.” You look around and see half his team watching you as if you’re a TV drama. They quickly look away and pretend to be busy and you shake your head with a smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me tonight at seven. It’s my turn to take you out.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. Where?”

“It’s a surprise but dress nicely.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I have to go to work but I’ll see you tonight. Is it possible to have you drive? I still don’t have a car.”

“Yeah.”

“Great,” you blush.

You kiss his cheek but he turns his head so you get his lips instead. The kiss only lasts five seconds but it’s the best five seconds of your day today. You leave the BAU and start to walk back to work. You’re looking at the pictures you took on your phone from your time at the mini-golf course when you crash into another person.

“Shit!”

You look up to see the same man you met at the library. He is carrying a coffee in his hand that goes everywhere, mostly on him.

“I am so sorry,” you gasp. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine but my shirt isn’t,” he chuckles. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I work at a coffee shop. Let me make you a new coffee, completely free.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m Jacob.”

“Y/N.”

You bring him into your room and have him stay by the counter while you make his coffee order. You’ve been getting good at making coffee which is something you’re proud of. You’ve been learning a lot about not only how to work in this coffee shop but about people who work hard for a living. Sure, you have a whole inheritance to fall back on but you never cared about the money. You’d rather struggle with the rest of them if you had true love.

“Sorry if I seemed like I was in such a rush. I was on my way to my mother’s since she’s sick. I don’t know what I’m going to do because I want to help her but it costs everything I have. I don’t have much to begin with and I have to try and put food on my table for my kids.”

The empathetic side of you completely falls for his sob story. Whether it’s true or not, it’s working for you. Ben has always told you to be cautious in helping people because of who you are. However, no one in the United States knows who you are. They wouldn’t know that you have hundreds of billions on your back. 

You’re safe here. No one is out to get you.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean to dump this on you. It’s just hard, you know?”

“Let me help you.”

“I appreciate that, Y/N, but what can you do that I can’t?”

“I have some money. I can give you some.”

You reach into your pocket but he tries to stop you with his words. You take out your wallet regardless of what he says.

“No, I can’t take that from you.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do.” You hand him his coffee and also a few hundred bills from your wallet. “This will help put food on your table.”

“This is so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Again, it’s the least I can do. Plus, I love helping people.”

“Thank you.”

Jacob leaves shortly after and you finish your shift with no other distractions. Spencer is scheduled to come pick you up at seven and you get off work at six. You rush home so you have as much time as you can to get ready. You immediately head to your room and pick out one of your princess dresses you managed to smuggle into the US. It’s a floor-length golden dress with sparkles all over it. The sleeves are two thin spaghetti straps that cross over in the back, and it has a deep V in the front that shows off your cleavege elegantly. There are frills coming off the side of it starting from your waist but there are only a few slabs of fabric so it’s not overwhelming. It’s elegant for dinner and it’s a piece of your old life that Spencer won’t know any better about. You’re curling parts of your hair when Don walks into your room.

“You gave someone money?”

“How did you know about that?”

“It’s my job to know everything you do.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal. I spilled his coffee, and his mother is sick. He’s having trouble putting food on the table for his family.”

“Do you know how dangerous it is to be giving money to people you don’t know? Someone could find out who you are and then this will all be for nothing.”

You finish curling your hair and set the curler down with a sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry might be good enough next time. Now, I have to make sure you didn’t ruin anything.”

You’ve never seen Don act this angry before. Granted, you’ve only been with Don for a few months but he’s always been calm and collected. Seeing him angry like this is jarring.

“Don, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Don leaves the house and you finish getting ready. You go to the secret stash of money that Don has that you’re almost certain he knows you know about. Still, you take a few hundred dollars for dinner. You don’t want to come up short and embarrass yourself. Spencer shows up right on the dot wearing a nice suit, looking as handsome as ever. He smiles when he sees you, and he takes your hand when you reach the bottom step.

“You look stunning,” he smiles.

“Thank you. You look very handsome.”

You tell him where to go and direct him to one of the high-end restaurants in the area, the Sky Dome. There is a huge sky dome in the middle of the restaurant that opens at night so you can look at the night sky while enjoying dinner. This place is on the fancier side of things, and it’s something you’re familiar with. It reminds you of home and you’re kind of feeling homesick.

You miss your parents and Benjamin but you know you can’t go home now.

After the hostess check your reservation, she takes you to the table underneath the dome that’s already open.

“Wow, this place is very fancy. I would never have pegged you to be this way.”

“Like what?”

“So fancy. You work at a coffee shop.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“I appreciate it. I’ve never been here before.” You want to be happy about being here with Spencer but you can’t get Don’s words out of your head. Now, I have to make sure you didn’t ruin anything. What did he mean by that? You’ve been very careful not to reveal anything to Spencer or anyone else you know. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… I had a fight with my uncle. He’s a very private person and he found out I helped someone today.”

“What do you mean?”

“After giving you the books, I was on my way to work and I ran into someone causing their coffee to spill everywhere. I gave them a free one and he told me about how his mother was sick and how he was struggling to put food on the table. I gave him a few hundred dollars to help out. When my uncle found out, he was pissed. He just worries about me. I’m always too kind and he's worried that will get me in trouble one day.”

“I think being nice is the best thing someone can be. I wouldn’t let what he says determine that.”

“I won’t,” you grin. There aren’t clouds to obscure the moonlight so the light shines through the large window and down onto the patrons below. Spencer looks at you above his menu, his brown eyes shining. “You have such pretty eyes. I’m a sucker for brown eyes.”

Spencer blushes but doesn’t say anything about it.

The waitress comes over to grab your drink orders and while you’re looking over the wine list, the front doors open. Immediate loud chatter come from outside as a couple walk in. Flashes come from cameras so that makes you think that someone important walked in.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Oh, Angelina Jolie and Leonardo DiCaprio are doing a movie here. They told us they were coming.”

“Oh.”

After you put in your orders, you keep looking at the sea of paparazzi waiting outside. No trouble, stay out of the news, and no pictures. No pictures. If you end up on the front page of a magazine, your parents will for sure find you. You’ll be taken back to Yacleira and live out the rest of your life as a numb wife next to an equally numb King.

You try not to let this sour your good mood throughout the dinner. Maybe they might be gone before you and Spencer get done. When you do get done, the paparazzi is still there but it looks like Angelina and Leo are leaving at the same time. If you hang back, maybe you might stall enough to not catch the cameras.

“Come on,” Spencer says.

He guides you along with him just as the two celebrities are leaving. You can’t tell him no because then that will raise suspicions and he’d ask questions you can’t answer. You just have to keep your head down and hope your face isn’t caught by the cameras. The cameras go off even before the two celebrities get to the door, and you try and hide behind Spencer. He sees you’re uncomfortable by the amount of cameras so he does his best to keep you hidden. He gets to the car as fast as possible but you know the damage is already done.

You just hope this isn’t what makes you found out. You’re starting to like it here and you’d hate to leave it so soon.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[obsessive-valentine]

Just suddenly thought of it, but I'm imagining your Yan!Fae wants to increase the love between them and their lover (the lover will probably be colder after the kidnapping) and he started thinking of a way, What would it be like for a lover who wants to read books but the books in the library are written in a language they cannot read (I think every race or country would have their own form of writing). I think he will take advantage of that to get closer, like teaching them the words and then praising them (he intentionally kisses their cheeks).

Yandere!Childhood-Friend-Fae x Kidnapped-GN!Reader

Fae 100% have their own language and many variations so it can be difficult for a human to grasp, love this idea. He just wants closeness and to recreate the love he had from reader in his childhood but went about it the wrong way lol -let him try win your favour again ❤️

You wanted to hate him but you knew the person he used to be was still in there, you grew up with those eyes and that smile and a part of you missed him.

But his voice is different and hes dauntingly tall, he’s colder even if it’s unintentionally he’s not as relaxed and innocent as he used to be. You can’t bring yourself to think of him like you used to, he’s now your kidnapper who slightly resembles your beloved childhood friend.

Stuck in the limbo of not hating but not liking his presence, a indifference badly masking your fear and mourning for your old life. He could tell you were troubled and expected it from such a fragile human, you always were so empathetic and emotional as a kid.

Before he could begin recounting those memories he snapped himself out of it. “Not getting any damn work done” he huffed to himself before standing up from his desk making the dark wood chair scrape against the floors and closing the ink pot for his pen before leaving the room.

He found you sitting comfortably in one of the various lounge rooms of the house, this one you’d taken to most. The sofas were plush and the room wasn’t to big, the carpet and fireplace made it somewhat homely. He lingered in the door way watching you with amusement as you sprawled out on the sofa dramatically, staring at the carved details on the ceiling.

He wondered what you were thinking, you hardly talked to him anymore and tried to slip away from his company any chance you’d get. “Hello love” he started with his knuckles grazing gently on the door like a quiet knock in an attempt to not spook you. Your head tilted awkwardly to look at him with an expecting face “what are you doing in here?” He continues while inviting himself in.

“Nothing, there’s nothing to do. I can’t go outside without you, no sane person to talk to nor books to read” you ranted turning away from him once again, he let the jab about his sanity slide “Ive got a whole library” he replied plainly. You sent him a nasty glare but he stood unmoving just now with a slight grin sneaking on his face.

The smile made it blantantly obvious he was messing with you, you huffed and went back to looking at the ceiling. “Yes I know you can’t read those books but what I’m suggesting is I teach you” you didn’t bother look at him this time instead answering with silent rejection, you rather not be stuck in a room with your captor for hours.

“Suit yourself” his hand gently ran over your hair “I’ll be downstairs if you change your mind” he mentioned rather softly before taking his hand back and leaving the room.

...

That offer was sounding really nice after another boring hour passed, every evening he’d take you for a walk around his gardens but that was hours away and it felt weird and lonely that he was bothering you much less than usual. You knew deep down that he was playing yet another game with your head, making you come to him but you stopped caring about your dignity when the silence became deafening.

Slowly you tiptoed down the lush carpeted stairs and peaked over the banister during a moment of doubt, ultimately you decide to walk to the door. You didn’t knock, you became to nervous, instead you stood and peered into the crack of the door. Before you could turn around “you okay out there love?”

You pushed the door open fully, the book he occupied himself with was already closed in his lap and he sat expectingly. “Come here” he demanded calmly, when you were close enough he gently pulled you down into his lap “change your mind?”

“I’ll go mad if I can’t read” you replied bluntly. You are glad he didn’t push further, instead he sat back comfortably dragging you with him “The books I read are more academic, probably bore you to death”

He reached over to another book laying on the side table “-this book is probably easier to read, a fantasy” there were no other books in the room, you realised that he’d picked that out for you and was waiting for you to come to him. He’d predicted this and it made heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, it was frustrating that he’s always right and knows it.

He pulled it in front of you and began teaching you letter by letter and word by word. The whole time not letting you off his lap, it had been maybe 2 hours of repeating sentences after him, but it went by fast. You were so focused and quite comfortable.

So focused you you wouldn’t question it when his hands began wandering down your sides, or tracing your thighs followed by hums of approval. And it would only get worse as days went on quicks kisses on your shoulders then your nape, cheek and eventually grabbing you cheeks to kiss you on the lips.

That night after a walk and dinner he took you to pick out your own book from the library, and instead of going to bed and read his own book as you drift to sleep you both slowly read the first chapter together at candle light. He even rummaged through his draws to find a delicate metal book mark once you both decide to get to sleep.

...

At some point you’d gotten the hang of reading, but he wouldn’t stop there. No, he enjoyed having you in his lap while he taught you what each word meant or correcting your speech. Instead, one morning he calls you into his study and pulls you into his lap.

“You’re getting much better at reading, you’re going to learn to write it now” he left no room argument and handed you the expensive looking dip pen. He liked this activity much more because he had yet another excuse to touch you, for most of it his hand gently hovered over yours, correcting any mistakes. He would lean close over your shoulder so he could read what you were writing but really he’s just pressing himself gains you as close as he can.

You signed up for more than you realised.

[joonipertree]

Pretty Summer Dress, Makes Your Heart Melt

Tags: Bonten! Mikey × AFAB reader. hurt/comfort. Insecure reader in pretty dress. fluff to smut. rough mikey. Dom Mikey. fucking you in a dress. Touch starved Mikey and Reader. Closed off Mikey

Manjiro hadn't been the same for years, you had accepted that. His blank stares and minimal talking had been rectified with his protective arm in front of you or how he shares his food. Maybe you missed when you two were kids and he drowned you in affection or talked your ear off. But you were content simply from the fact that he was a part of your life and you were a part of his

You two did your own thing, in the same space and because that had been how it has been for years.....it became comfortable. Of course, the lack of physical touch got to you but it's not like he never touched you, just that he never seemed to make much of a show with it.

But okay, fine, you would get off on his thigh once in a while and cling to him while he kissed you chastely. He would curl up in your arms to sleep or lean against you when his bones were tired. He let you burrow yourself into his body and it was enough because your definition of a relationship had changed along with the two of you.

But sometimes, you're standing in front of the mirror, wearing the prettiest floral dress you've ever worn and you want your boyfriend to fawn over you. It flowed down to your ankles, hugged your chest and when you twirled, the fabric rippled around you. You were pretty, you were beautiful and Manjiro was fucking lucky to have you.

But all he did was give you a once over and nodded. Nodding was the most he did sometimes, eyes bleary eyed and dead. And you could just accept that maybe that's what came with years of being together, that you two weren't in your honeymoon phase anymore.

That you didn't need his validation.

And you didn't.

But you worked hard on your gentle makeup and wind swept hair. You saw the dress of your dreams, tried it on and danced because it felt like you. You looked like a fucking cottagecore fairy that graced everyone with your presence. You wanted to go in a field of flowers and feel like their princess.

So you did, you invited Mikey but he was busy. You went alone with a basket full of food and a blanlet; a tripod and camera. You ate well, read a book, listened to music and took the prettiest pictures ever because self care.

You came home and uploaded them everywhere before your insecurities could nitpick everything out. Before your brain decided to interfere and say that you were ugly. You weren't.

The comments were nice, many and full of exclamation marks. You were showered in praise like you deserved. But it didn't matter to you when the one person you wanted a compliment from, said nothing at all.

That dead eyed, ice cold motherfucker.

You stomped towards him, hair messy and lipstick off with your eye make up smudged. The dress still flowed around you, you felt the silk caress your bare legs. You were still the powerful fairy that made the world fall in love with them, but this time your lips were set in a cold hard line and you were beginning to wonder if the guy you loved even loved you anymore.

He looked up when you loomed over him, eyes peering as he stayed in a perpetual state between dream and reality. He looked paler, eyebags even more prominent. The white hair didn't do anything to make him look livelier. Manjiro laid there and stared at you.

"What do you think of my dress?" You whispered, fight leaving your body.

"Pretty." His cracked, dry voice murmured out.

It shouldn't have but it warmed you.

"Am I pretty?"

"Very."

The tears started and didn't stop, rolling down your cheeks in clusters with a quivering lip and barely opened eyes. Manjiro sat up immediately, eyes widening ever so slightly that only you could've picked it up.

"Do you still love me?"

You've never seen him move as fast as he did in years. His hands grappling for your wrists and pulling you into his lap. It was familiar yet not lived in. Your thighs squeezed him tight as whimpers left your lips. He didn't hesitate to wipe every tear away.

"You are the only person in this world that I am selfish for."

You held him tight and you cried more because even before you asked you knew he loved you. Sano Manjiro wasn't the type to stop loving so easily. And even with the scarcity of affection, he always held your safety and love to the highest regard.

"I know you dont- hic like showing emotions but I just don't know what to believe. Do you not feel any-anything for me anymore?" You sobbed into his shoulder.

"Baby, whatever the fuck is left in me is all you. I've been-" You can feel his breath shudder, "waiting for you to leave me. You never do. I've been waiting for you to show you're miserable but you always- how do you look like you still adore me?"

"I do adore you," You cried even more, "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

"You'd be happier without---"

"Shut the fuck up, we aren't arguing about this again. I just want you to stay with me. Please, please, please just stay."

"You could die," he whispered, "I dunno how I keep you around. But you know, people always die around me."

"I don't wanna grieve you, I know I will if you leave." You murmured back.

"Living is better for you."

"I'd be miserable. You'd be miserable. You already---"

"You'd get over me." He didn't mention himself. He wasn't gonna say shit about him getting over you.

"You're lying to yourself."

"I wanna keep you."

"Keep me."

His hands made it under your dress, over your hip and scratching along your spine. You mewled, clinging to him and rutting yourself against him.

Needy, you were so needy.

"I won't be gentle."

"Fuck gentle, ruin me." You gasped out.

Your underwear was ripped in an instant, dress flourishing around the two of you like a halo untouched.

He fucked you with your tits hanging out and cock stuffed till it was almost impossible to breathe. He fucked you with his mouth biting and bruising your chest and hands groping your ass. He did all the work, rammed into you hard as his only driving force were your moans. He fucked you and even when you came, he didn't stop and you cried pretty for him.

This was him trying, apologising in the kisses he peppered on every inch of your skin. Turned you around so he can go along your spine, lips sticky and causing you to moan even more.

He fucked you and he could feel the edge of the dark impulse coming forward, only stopping because the warmth of your hands were like the sun that kept the darkness away. It came around his sidesx in his harsher thrusts and biting mouth but fuck, you felt safe and good and loved.

All in a pretty dress he saw and adored the first time he laid his eyes on it.

[crazycurly-77]

Alone with Gibbs

“Nononono! You can't be serious. You can't do this to me!” you pleaded with Tim and Kate, who were both going on vacation for the next two weeks. 

“I don't even have Tony as support and fellow sufferer, because he had to go on an undercover mission” you explained to them desperately. 

At least Tim looked a little guilty, but didn't say anything. Kate smiled warmly at you realizing that you were starting to panic and tried to comfort you “come on, he isn't so bad at all. I'm sure it will be hard, but you'll survive.”

“You condemn me to two weeks working alone with Gibbs. One of us won't survive this!” 

“Who won't survive what?” you heard the deep voice from your boss directly in your ear. 

“He's standing right behind me, isn't he” you stated and Tim and Kate nodded. 

You prepared for the upcoming head-slap, but it never came. Instead he was walking to his desk, grabbed the keys to the car and said “We have a missing navy Lieutenant. Come on.”

Oh,oh. It's starting right away. 

You rolled your eyes and wished them a wonderful time wholeheartedly. All the while running after him to the elevator. 

Arriving at the car you got in and he drove like hell to Norfolk.

“My goodness, he's bad shit crazy!” Luckily and miraculously you really survived the drive. You exited the car and ran after him to the ship on which the missing soldier did his duty. 

“You only observe. I'm doing the questioning” Gibbs ordered and you nodded. So you two boarded the ship, interrogated the crew, searched the belongings of Ted Fuller in the hope of a hint where he had gone to, but you found none. 

Because of that you drove back to the office to check the files. Again Gibbs was driving like a madman. “Is he only insane, does he try to get killed or did he want to be a racer when he was a kid?” you wondered silently as there was no conversation and you were holding on to the door handle for your dear life. 

Arriving at the office he got out of the car and ordered “park the car and get me a coffee.” You just stared at him open mouthed “what?! Are you serious?” 

He turned to you “you heard me. Why are you still here?” Then he walked into the building and left you seething with anger. 

You sighed and did as you were told. You parked the car, then grabbed coffee for Gibbs and you and went back to the office. Walking up in front of his desk you put down his cup of coffee and wanted to walk over to your own desk. 

But he looked up from the file he was reading and asked “where were you?” 

You looked at him and answered “I did as you told me.”

“And why did it take so long?” 

You only sent him a murderous gaze, turned, finally walked to your desk and sat down. 

Just at this moment you were ordered “find out who he had last spoken to on the phone.” With that he stood up and went to the MTAC. 

You did the needed research and then laid back and began to read your new book “100 ways to kill your boss”. It was really funny and you were totally absorbed in it. 

Suddenly you got a soft head-slap which absolutely startled you, so you let it fall to the ground. Gibbs picked it up, read the title and threw it into the trash can. 

Walking to his desk he said “I'll tell you number 101: Giving me a heart attack if you actually do your work.”

You huffed, stared at him and then snapped “I DID my work. The last call was at a bar on the naval base.”

At first he did nothing, but stared silently at you. Then he smiled. He Smiled!!! Can you imagine??!! Then the second miracle happened as he said “good! Let's head to the bar. You are driving.”

Proud as you were you ran to the car, got in, startet the car and immediately moved off as Gibbs took his seat, too. 

You drove even 10 mph over the limit and that was quite fast for you. 

You drove nearly 10 minutes in silence and just as you wanted to begin a conversation he said slightly impatiently, “Number 102…driving so slow that I will be dead until we arrive.”

What??!! You couldn't believe it and were for a moment absolutely speechless. Then you replied with a mischievous grin “no worries, god and the devil surely doesn't want you and send you back to torture us further.”

You waited for the upcoming reprimand, but the only sound that your boss made was that he was surprisingly laughing. 

The rest of the drive was silent as ever. Arriving at the bar you searched the whole place and yes, you found the missing navy lieutenant. He was sitting on the loo sleeping deeply and snoring soundly. 

Gibbs called you to the bathroom were he had found him and while your boss was shaking his head you had to stop yourself from laughing out loud. “Bring me a bucket” he ordered you. 

You went to the kitchen, found one and went back to the bathroom. There Gibbs filled the bucket and poured all the water over the soldier so that he woke. 

The poor man didn't know where he was at first, but Gibbs enlightened him, yelling at him at the top of his lungs. Then he dragged him to the car and drove at maximum speed to the ship. Thankfully you all survived the ride, so you could hand over the soldier to his superior. 

Back at the bullpen you both sat down to do your reports. Shortly into writing them Gibbs went out of coffee and grabbed yours. He drank from it and immediately spit it out saying annoyed “Number 103…poisoning me with that dishwater.”

“You do realize that that was MY coffee you were drinking?” you answered, looking at him murderously. 

“You're working for me, so YOUR coffee is MY coffee. And that's NO coffee, I tell you.”

Oh, that was bad. “Just because you want to have a heart attack from the more than strong coffee you drink, doesn't mean I have to drink that same bad coffee as you.”

You were both staring at each other, saying nothing. Then he turned and left. After a few minutes he came back with two cups of coffee in his hands and gave one to you. You first looked suspiciously at the mug and then at him. He just nodded, so you slowly tastet it…and were totally surprised, because that was not his kind of coffee, but exactly the kind of it which you liked the most - coffee with a lot of milk. Not really knowing what to say you just whispered “thank you” to which he only nodded again. 

After finishing your reports you headed home. The rest of the two weeks alone no other case showed up, so you did a lot of research. 

On the best Monday morning ever Kate and Tim were back and you were never so grateful in your life. Now you were a survivor and you were sooo proud of it. But working alone with Gibbs hadn't to happen again any time soon in your opinion. 

“Tim! Kate! You're back! How wonderful!!” you screamed and threw yourself into their arms. The three of you laughed and cheered with Kate praising you and smiling proudly at you “I see you have survived, I'm proud of you. As I said, you'll make it.”

“Yeah. I'm very proud of myself, too. He gave me a hard time, but I tried to give it back to him as best as possible,” you grinned. 

As a matter of fact you thought that one can learn a lot from Gibbs and when you know how you had to react to him, he could be a good and friendly human being and a good teacher - but unfortunately only then. And that was pretty hard to guess. 

Gibbs’ welcome for the both of them was not a big hug as you gave them, but “good you're back, there's work to do.”

You all only shook your head, because that was so him. 

After welcoming them back, he gave you a thick file and said “you are standing up to me and that's good, despite the fact that it annoys me sometimes. So I’m making you my new partner, here's a file you have to read. Meeting at MTAC in 30 minutes.”

Wow, that was definitely unexpected, but you were undoubtedly happy to be able to observe and learn from the best.

The End

-------------------------------------------

Here you will find the other stories I've written to date.

-------------------------------------------

Tags: @hobby27

-------------------------------------------

[ch3rryb0mb3rr]

Tldr; please put warnings on smut and have it below the cut and stop sexualizing minors in media. Especially if they just came out of middle school thats weird. Write what you want but tag and put warnings when needed.

--

I get so pissed when im going to read something about my favorite character, and it's smut WITH ZERO WARNING.

No 18+, no NSFW, no MDNI and it isnt even in the fucking tags. I dont wanna read that shit. Put the damned warnings there for the love of all that is green on this earth it takes two seconds. maybe a bit more, but if you could pump out 3.4k words of pure porn, I think you can handle a couple of tags and warnings

I am a minor, and i use those warnings, so I dont read straight-up porn!! I also dont need to read about incest accidentally because there was NO warning, and it was NOT in the tags!!

(And for those of you who do put warnings, i thank you and wish the best in life!)

(I am also well aware that a lot of people dont listen to dnis like that, but it's helpful for the people trying to avoid reading stuff like that)

Also, while im on the subject, let's not sexualize minors in media. Yeah their hot, i can see that. But i dont want to see the start of an NSFW alphabet for a 15/16 year old. Aged up my ass. Just put the beginning below the cut?? And not after the first four letters??

I do NOT need to know a fav characters preferred body part is the tits thank you very much. I definitely do not need to accidentally read that they wanna suck on it like a damned bottle.

--

'This character as your friend is soo perverted he wants to steal ur panties hehehe' NO HE DOESNT. HE'S A TEENAGER AND LIKES CATS. TF?? theres adults in the majority of the show that are reasonably attractive. Write that shit about them.

'Oh, they have this list of kinks,' and its shit only someone who has read hardcore smut would have. They are 16 and most probably haven't had sex because the creator cant give them a fucking break from trauma.

'He would be soooo toxic and blahblahblah [insert romanticised assault and abuse and trauma]' NO. that boy is my age and is a nerd. Motherfucker wants to study at princeton and has absolutely no flirting ability. You're only saying that because he's black, most of that shit reeks of racism.

--

These characters are kids, CHILDREN, and you as an adult (if you are one) should not be writing smut about them, aged up or not. You should not be thirsting over a sophmore when theres PLENTY of good looking adults that you can be.

Theres a difference in growing up liking a character and having a crush on them and growing out of it when you're an adult. And being an adult thirsting over a teenage boy. It's not cute. it's not 'oh, it's fine because he/she's not real'.

Its really fucking gross actually.

--

At the end of the day just tag your stuff correctly. That way its easier for everyone else to find EXACTLY what they wanna read. Because at this point im just gonna start reporting fics with no warnings at the beginning.

Someome younger than me with no parents looking through their devices could stumble on that, and not know what it means, read it, and be scarred for life.

I was reading that stuff way way way too earlier and its fucked up my mental state a bit so if we collectively start putting in the effort to help prevent this from happening to another 11 year old or younger than we should do so.

--

Start gatekeeping fandoms like creepypasta from young kids, start tagging shit correctly

Another child does not need to end up somewhat hypersexul with very violent intrusive thoughts by the time they hit high school because their parents wouldn't look out for them, and the fandom did NOTHING to try to prevent it.

Its not your job to parent the kid, and to look over their should. Thats not what im saying.

It IS your job to, again, tag shit correctly, put warnings for gore, bluring violent images, saying outright that a certain game/book/story/etc your recommending is NOT for kids due to its violent nature/sexual content/etc. Reporting accounts of children under the age limit for social media (i.e., a 10 year old with discord or instagram) (it is breaking the T.O.S)

Act like that one lgbtq+ chat room website I was on for a couple weeks where all the adults kinda looked out for me a bit. And supported me figuring out who I was and collectively riped a guy to shreds after I blasted him at a failed attempt to groom me. (And told me I had done exactly the right thing in this situation. Also, hi, if you know who I am from there!!!) (Story time if ya'll want I look back and think its the funniest thing ever how I dealt with him 💀)

[everythingblackblack]

Hakuba should propose to Kaito then the white imagery would fit his civilian identity too via giving him his surname. Plus Kaito keeping people in the dark and operating in the shadows (black) and Hakuba recognising the good in him and being determined to bring everything about Kid into the light (white), also the Kuroba or clover on the black hat accessory reference in Kaitou 1412's original costume as well as the black feathers (translation of Kaito's family name) being used by Corbeau while he traumatised Kaito with his father's appearance. It just has lots of satisfying symbolism of Kaito finally being able to part of with the weight of his family's tragedy and his father's legacy. Because Kuroba-kun and Kid are just means of getting to know Kaito, Hakuba has no investment in Kid or the Kurobas beyond Kaito himself. Kaito isn't a generic civilian identity that's just another fabrication to hide the criminal secrets or the punniest name for a Japanese phantom thief (because he was literally born and raised for this purpose even with his parents' absences they, including Jii, only enter Kaito's life to help him be Kid for his mother and father's mistakes or lie/escape into another life via Vegas or Poker Face) it's the name of the person Saguru loves and he's his and no matter what name he goes by or what he lies about and hides Saguru will love him, figure it out and find the truth. He'll always ask Kaito for his honest answers and give him Real options to be Himself in it's realest form.

A funny thing happened to me while I was reading your question, I happened to have my playlist on shuffle and "Good Luck, Babe!" started playing, so if you see me rambling a lot, attribute it to that funny coincidence.

You made me think of an arranged/convenient marriage. Not exactly though.

Kaito, who feels hurt and lost after finding out his father was alive and mom knew about it, doesn't want to talk to Jii at all because he can't stand the thought of him taking his father's side (he's not sure if he will or not, so he just chooses not to deal with it), can't ask Aoko or her father for help, doesn't feel worthy of their help.

So he desperately and insecurely chooses Hakuba. He wants something that feels close.

Hakuba is probably having a cup of tea while enjoying a book, hears knocking on the window in his room, and is surprised to meet Kaito.

"You still want to know my reason?" Kaito doesn't mention KID, he doesn't need to, Hakuba has a bad feeling, something very serious must have happened for someone like KID to even consider revealing his reasons for stealing, he rushes to let him in, offers him tea, but Kaito rejects it.

They both sit in silence.

"I don't know how to start, it's a mess, actually, my life is a mess."

After a couple of minutes, Kaito begins to tell Saguru about his love for magic and his father, the history of KID, and everything else.

The word that Saguru thinks fits well in this situation is “Sad,” and of course, he is so upset.

“Marry me.” The words are out of his mouth before he can process them, it’s not an unfounded request, but it was a proposal made by his emotions.

“What?”

“I’m sorry if I was so abrupt, still, I mean what I said, I definitely need to think it over better, but I can’t just leave you like this.”

"But how would getting married help?"

"First, because you could adopt a Western name if you wanted, and because it seems very cruel to me that they named you like that… as if your destiny was sealed from the day you were born and you couldn't change it."

"But we're not in love."

"I am."

"Oh."

"You can think about it, meditate on it if you want, I would never force you to do something you don't want, even if you don't accept me that way, I will watch over you, and I won't let you get hurt again. Take my name, my contacts, and whatever you need to get back on your feet."

Kaito thinks Hakuba is being kind, he doesn't want him to be a second choice or receive a half-hearted love. He has nothing to gain by accepting, instead, Kaito would be the only one to benefit.

[webslingingslasher]

TLDR; too long, didn't read

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluffy, minor angst

Word Count: 10K

Summary: you're dyslexic and it runs your entire life. peter's just trying to help, but sometimes it's a bit too much.

this was requested, thank you, thank you.

“Here, read this and tell me what you think.” 

You let out a breathy sigh, like you’ve been here, done that, and heard that a million times before. Actually, it's because you have. And not just by Peter, everyone in your life. Teachers, parents, even friends that just tried their best to help. It just never worked. 

It never, ever clicked in your brain. 

“Peter, we’ve been over this. I can’t read.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, “Chill with the dramatics, you can read. I know you can read, did it last night for me.” 

He’s right. The last few weeks since you’ve been extra struggling in English Lit he’s asked you to read to him every night, over the phone or in person. 

You hate it. 

Not reading to Peter, it’s just embarrassing for you. The pauses in sentences you have to take to clearly read the line, or the stuttering, or worse when Peter can guess what word you’re trying to say so he says the word slowly and calmly almost as if he’s sounding it out for you. 

You know he does it with nothing but love, but sometimes you just feel dumb and ashamed, and it’s nothing you can solve. 

“No, like, I really can’t read at all.” 

Peter pokes at your arm with a pencil, “You just need a little extra time, it’s no big deal. You even crushed our short story last week, you only slipped up on three words!” 

Your brain is fighting against you because you have visual dyslexia. Meaning that letters jumbled around in your brain and on the page. You’ve struggled since you were a kid, it’s gotten easier through the years. Lots of intervention, reading and writing has helped you slow down and sound out the words softly and slowly until you know it’s right. 

“If I ask you something will you be totally honest?”

Peter is a fucking genius, it makes you distressed when he helps you with this. He is solving grad school equations and helping you sound out kindergarten words for fun, it doesn’t make sense. 

“I don’t like the way that sounds so I’m withholding until I hear it.” He taps his chin with his pencil eraser. 

You don’t know why you haven’t asked yet. 

“Why are you dating me?” 

Record scratch, Peter looks offended. 

“Huh?” The pencil is slack in his grasp. 

You backtrack a little, you know why he’s dating you but you don’t understand it. You can’t help but feel inferior to him booksmart wise. 

“Well, I mean, you know.” You wince and shug with one arm, you divert your eyes to the page and start to slowly read out to him. 

“Jill went over to George’s for tea and cakes, when the doorbell-” 

Peter cut you off with his hand on your shoulder, you peered at him from the side. 

“No, I don’t know. I’d like you to explain that question to me, please.” Where the hell was this coming from? 

You huff and push the book away, “You’re smart and I’m not. Do you ever think to yourself, ‘God, I wish I had known she was an idiot before I tapped that’? It’s not your fault but I feel so below you and I can’t ever be you so like, what’s the fucking point.” 

Peter doesn’t know where to begin. 

You’re not an idiot, you’re not below him and he’s so glad you’re not him. He also doesn’t like that ‘tapped it’ comment.

“Is that how you always feel?” Has he done a bad job of lifting you up? 

You shrug, then nod. 

“Jesus, Y/N.” 

“I’m dating you because you’re lovely, you’re funny and despite what you believe, smart. You crush vocab like no other cause even if you get tripped up by the words you always know what they mean. You’re a knowledge god in history and the best chemistry lab partner, I have never thought you were dumb, ever.” 

You roll your eyes, it’s his job to tell you that you’re smart, it’s in the boyfriend duties journal. 

“I’m sure if you knew I was dyslexic before we started to date you wouldn't have.” 

Pause, Peter did know. You didn’t know he knew, he’s kept that from you. He didn’t want it to seem like he dated you out of pity or because he knew you needed extra help. He dated you because he was absolutely in love with you and needing a little extra reading comprehension skills wouldn’t ruin that. 

“I did know.” 

You raise your hand as he’s proven your point, “Exactly! I always knew-” 

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “Did you just say you knew?” 

Peter nods with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

“Wait, I’m being serious right now, Peter. You knew I was dyslexic?” 

He breathes in deeply, “Well, I mean, I had an idea. I knew you had trouble reading sometimes and when you started leaving class during tests I knew.” 

You poke your cheek with your tongue, “Interesting.” 

“I only knew because I knew a kid named Ben in elementary who was dyslexic, and he would go to a different room during tests and they would ask him the questions out loud so he could understand it a bit better.” 

“And you never said anything?” 

“Because it didn’t matter to me, baby. I love you no matter what, this isn’t a big deal at all, really.” 

And there it is, that’s the fallback line for him. 

‘It doesn't matter, it isn’t a big deal.’ 

Except it was, and it really did fucking matter to you. Peter would never understand it unless he dealt with it, and he didn’t. And it’s not his fault at all, cause you know if the situation was flipped you would most likely say the same things. But this is a real disability you struggle with everyday all the time, it’s not like you had a problem with math that could be avoided until you had to do it again. 

This was every text, every written page, every passage you read. Every street sign, absolutely everywhere you looked, it followed. 

It controlled your life, and he would never understand that. 

“It doesn’t matter to you, you mean.” You correct his wording, he doesn’t get it. 

“Of course it doesn’t matter to me, you’re my genius girl, no matter what.” He winks then points at the page again, “Okay, so Jill and George?” 

You felt defeated inside, what was the point of trying anymore? It would stick and stay no matter what and no matter how hard you tried to keep it under wraps, everyone would know. 

—------------

“Alright, hot stuff. I got this book at the library and I think we should read it together. I heard it was good from Tiktok.” 

You took the book from Peter’s hand and turned it over, the words jumbled immediately and you recoiled inside from the size of the book alone. It was massive, it would take you weeks if not months to read it through. 

“Yeah, about that,” You trail, Peter sets his bag down and sits on your bed with a pillow in his lap. 

“About what?” He pats the pillow, he’s calling for your head to rest there. 

“The reading thing, I was thinking, do you think we could take turns?” You bit your lip and leaned back, his fingers tracing in your hair. 

“Take turns what, reading?” 

You nod, you also feel where you made a knot in the back of your hair from rubbing the fabric. 

“Yeah, it would be like the sisterhood of the traveling book. I would read and then you would, it doesn’t have to be chapter by chapter but then it’s even.” 

Peter untangles some knots gently, “We could, but I really love hearing you read to me.” 

“Yeah, but you never read to me, and I love your voice.” 

Peter laughs airily, “Yeah, but I don’t-” 

He stopped, he caught himself. 

Not good enough, you know what he meant. 

You tilt your chin up to look at his face upside down, you narrow your eyes.

“Go on, say it.” 

He shakes his head. 

“No, really, Peter. I want you to say it.” 

“It’s nothing, baby.” 

You push yourself up and face him, you huff. 

“I’m serious, I want you to say it to my face, right now.” You feel your face get warm, you were right when you brought this up last week, he does think you’re stupid. 

Peter breathes out hard through his mouth, he knows he’s fucked up, and this was going to brew into a fight no matter how hard he tried to settle it right now. If he ignored you he would make it worse. 

“Yeah, but I don’t need help like you do.” 

You wince and hiss in through your teeth. 

“Ouch. That hurt.” 

You sit back in silence and pick up the book he brought over, you look it over once more. Even reading slowly things still got a little jumbled, you felt like you were out of place. 

“Baby, look at me.” 

You shake your head, “It’s okay, Peter.” 

He grabs your arm, “No it’s not.” 

You shake him off, “No, really. It’s okay.” 

He sighs, “I didn’t-” 

You cut him off, “You didn’t mean it like that, and you don’t think I’m dumb and I’m amazing and talented elsewhere, and needing extra reading time is fine and normal and you were just talking without thinking and you didn’t mean it.” 

Peter gave you a small smile, “I feel like it would be better coming from my mouth, since I’m the one that said it, but yeah, you hit the nail on the head.” 

You give the same smile back and pretend it’s fine. 

But it’s not fine, it’s actually so far from fine you cried yourself to sleep. You cried all night looking at the numbered book spine from the library copy your boyfriend brought to you, the same book spine that let you know Peter did notice how slow and difficult things were. You started at the title until it was burned into your mind, everytime you blinked it was etched into the backs of your eyelids. 

You stared at the book and cried and cried and cried until you decided you hated the book. You hated it so much you wanted to rip out its pages one by one until it ceased to exist. You wanted to flush it down the toilet and you wanted to drop it in a bucket of wet paint, you wanted it to be used as first pitch at the start of the baseball season, you wanted it to be banned from every corner of the world, you wanted Peter to take it back. 

Peter said the worst thing he could’ve said, and it came with no effort. Like he thinks it all the time, you made up your mind right then you wouldn’t ever read to or with him again. 

—----------------

You were getting more and more frustrated with Peter by the second, he wouldn’t shut the fuck up for twelve seconds. He just keeps going on, and on, and on about reading this and how “he’s thinking about how we could split up the pages and make it more fair, cause he does understand how it can seem unfair reading all alone to someone else, not to mention-” 

You rub at your temples, “Are you my boyfriend or my tutor?” 

Peter stops, “What?” 

You keep rubbing to stop the oncoming headache, “Are you my boyfriend or my tutor?” 

He looks confused, “Boyfriend, right?” 

You laugh dryly, “Could have fooled me, professor.” 

Peter doesn’t know what to say, he’s just trying to help, is he coming on too strong? 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to throw this all on you. How do you feel about this, you read the first thirty pages and I’ll read the next fifty?” 

You shove the book Peter placed in your hand into his chest, “I’m not reading the fucking book, Peter. If you want to read it so badly, do it yourself.” 

Peter is genuinely speechless, he doesn’t think you’ve ever snapped at him like this. 

All he can come up with is, “Huh?” 

“You heard me,” You double down, “I’m not reading the damn thing, it’s your book, you read it.” 

He shakes his head one more time, he’s thinking he’s got a concussion. 

“What? Why?” 

Because you vowed to never read to him again.  

“Because I don’t want to.” 

“Okay, that’s fair. I should’ve asked you, we can go to the library and you can pick out anything you want. Daddy will put it on his card.” He winks. 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” 

He pulls his head back and sets the book down, “If you don’t want to read today it’s fine, we can go get lunch, I know you’ve been begging me to take you to the new diner on 54th.” 

You narrow your eyes and look him up and down, “Just lunch?” 

He nods, “Unless you want to do something else, didn’t you say you wanted to see a movie?” 

You grimace, “Next month.” 

He grins, “Perfect, I’ll mark it on the calendar.” 

—---------------

You frown looking at the menu, usually it was pretty easy guessing what things were off a quick glance from the pictures but this menu had no images. 

It’s small accessibility things like that, that most people don’t think of, that make a world of a difference for someone that needs it. 

You peer up at Peter across from you, his forehead and right eye are lit up from the sun peering in from the window, he’s sitting facing the door, like always. You asked him one time after he physically moved you when you tried to sit towards it, “I always want to see who’s coming in.” He claimed it was a safety thing, you didn’t mind. As long as you didn’t sit on the same side and you always got the booth side at a booth table combo table, you couldn’t care who sat where. 

He has his lip pulled into his mouth, softly nibbling at the area. You wanted to pull it out because it always left an odd texture when you make out, you wanna ask him about the menu, to be sure. You also don’t want him to dote on you, make him read out the entire menu, just help fill in some words. 

“Petey?” Start soft, he loves that name. 

He flicks his eyes up and drops his lip from his teeth, “Yes, baby?” 

You point to where you’re looking, he leans over the table to get a better look. 

“Is that third word lettuce?” 

Peter hums, “Correct.” 

You grin, “Okay, thanks.” 

Peter nods and goes back to looking, he’s already figured out what he wants but he knows it makes you flustered when he sits there while you're still trying to figure out what the first page says, so instead when you ask, “What are you getting?” He can say, “Hmm, I don’t know yet, I’m still looking,” You can let out a breath of release and not feel rushed to make a choice. 

You make your way down the list, getting caught at one word. You read it slowly, even mouthing the word, you don’t think you’ve ever heard it before. 

“Peter, under sandwiches, number 3, what the fuck is that last word? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.” 

He lets out a soft laugh, “It says arugula, baby.” 

You squint and hold the plastic closer, “That’s how you spell it?” 

“How did you think it was spelled?” 

“Not like that.” You pull the menu away and continue the search. 

“It’s a tricky one, you’re not wrong.” Peter looks over his choice a few more times, he feels like his mouth is watering. 

“It’s a hate crime, actually.” 

He chuckles and sets his menu down, “I chose, got any ideas?” 

You scan over the menu quickly, if all else fails you trust Peter, you’ll have what he’s having. 

“What are you getting?” 

He raises his hands above his head and stretches, “Classic number seven.” 

You waver the option in your head, “That does sound pretty good, actually.” 

“Damn, I was betting on you getting seventeen.” 

“I was thinking about that one, swear to god!” 

Peter leans in like he’s making a great deal, for no one else to hear. 

“Get it and we spit?” 

You think, “Okay, you get half mine and I get half your fries.” 

He holds out his hand to solidify the business deal. 

“And maybe a bite or three of your burger.” 

You stick your hand in his and shake it before he can process what you said and groans, not that he minds, you are giving him half your waffles. 

When the plates are brought out Peter immediately hands you his burger, he will always allow the lady the first bite. Also because he will eat the entire thing in two. You take a bite and set it down, you pass your plate to him and he starts the trade. 

He slides two waffles on his plate, and scoops more than half the fries on yours, then drizzles half the syrup but leaves all the butter for you, he also doesn’t touch the whipped cream even though you know he wants it more than you do, you reach over and take a strawberry off the side and dip it in the cream, you bite down and push it back. You’re telling him to take it, he grins with squinted eyes to show his appreciation. 

You pick his meal up and bite again, working on swallowing you pass it back. Peter eyes it as you work through chewing, “You sure?” You nod, just as he goes to take it you say, “Actually, sorry,” Then take one more, you almost regret not going with his. Until you take a bite of the waffles and you melt, they are the best damn things you’ve ever had. 

—-----------

“I swear you aren’t even trying anymore!” 

Peter was defeated, you didn’t care. He has tried everything to get you to work with him this past week, especially since you bombed an English quiz. You have done nothing, you absolutely refused to read to him, to do any practice work, to read to yourself, to study, nothing to do with reading in the slightest. 

You were caught, and maybe a tiny glad he noticed. It just felt pointless, you would always struggle and no matter what Peter told you, feel like a burden. Like everyone had to help you with everything, it wasn’t Peter’s job to make sure you were reading and passing vocab and working on letter recognition, it was your job and you just didn’t care for it anymore. 

You just shrug carelessly back, you have to look away. His stare of disappointment is making self guilt rise quickly. 

Peter pulls back a little, he sounds lost. His voice is calm, “Hey, you didn’t give up did you?” 

You shake your leg, why do you feel like crying right now? 

Peter squats to get eye level with you, he places his hand on your knee to steady it. 

He shakes his head like he can’t understand where you’re coming from at all. 

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t do this, don’t do this to yourself. You worked too hard to just give up, you’ve gotten yourself here, right?” 

You nod trying to keep from crying, it doesn’t work. Your lower lip trembles and Peter immediately scoops you into his chest and pats your hair as you sob into him. He’s right, you’re hurting no one but yourself but it’s impossible to feel like it’s a never ending process. It feels like you’re walking in quicksand, you’re pacing yourself but it feels like nothing is changing. 

“I’m sorry,” You repeat into his shirt over and over, he shushes you, “You have no reason to be sorry.” 

When you calm you pull away, he presses a kiss to your forehead and wipes away any stray tears. 

“Wanna tell me what’s up?” 

“I just, I’m done, Peter. I am so fucking done, this is so stupid and it makes me feel stupid. And I know it’s not my fault but it is because my brain fucked me over so hard. I am always playing catch-up and it never, ever ends. I am constantly working towards something that will never get fixed. I keep telling myself if I pass this test, or if I read half a chapter with no struggles it’s gone, but I know it's a lie. It’s such a lie because I’ll be like this forever.” 

You start to cry again but stop yourself with a few deep breaths, “It will never get better, so why am I trying?” 

Peter nods, he’s not agreeing, he’s listening. He understands what you mean, he understands the frustration. He wants to tell you it’s not dumb, and it’s not for nothing but he needs to focus on you being okay first. 

“Okay, okay.” He pulls you in tightly and rests his chin on your head. 

“It sounds like you need a break, baby. You’ve been working yourself too hard, and I probably haven’t been helping that. Let’s take a week off, huh? No reading, no questions, no studying, nothing. Just call it quits on words this week, that sound good to you?” 

You nod into his chest and rub your nose against his shirt, an entire week with nothing about dyslexia sounds like just the break you needed. 

“Good, now let me see your pretty face.” You pull from him and grin, he smiles brightly at you, “There’s my girl,” He cups your face and brings you in for a kiss, you lean into it and raise on your toes a little bit to get closer. 

When Peter breaks away he rubs his thumb on your cheek until your eyes flutter open. 

“I love you, you know that, right?” He whispers the words, delicate between you two. 

You nod and lean up for a peck, “I love you too, and I appreciate you a lot.” 

He winks, “As long as you acknowledge it.” 

You groan as he moves away, he smacks your butt and points to his bed. You bounce down and watch as he grabs the book he checked out from the library, it hasn’t even been opened yet. You wait until he sits next to you and gets comfortable, he pats his chest to let you know it’s ready for you to rest your head. 

“Petey, you just said no reading for a week.” 

He nods, “I did. I said you wouldn’t read. You also said I never read to you, so, I think we can swap roles, what do you say?” 

You grin and settle down next to him and rub your cheek into his chest, “Love it, genius idea from my genius boy!” 

Peter kisses the top of your head and cracks the book open to the first page. 

“Chapter one, Jenna is going to die. Well, actually, everyone dies, but Jenna is going to die first, then Sara, then Amberlynn, and finally Jesse. The boy Jesse, not the girl, she doesn’t die, not yet anyways.” 

—---------------

You squint one eye open and bring the pillow over your ears trying to drown out the noise from the kitchen. Your boyfriend is going absolutely ham, singing from his entire being he has drowned out all the noise from the apartment. 

You focus on the music and his wailing, you concentrate and the song clicks. You look around the room and mutter to yourself, “Is he singing fucking Cher?” 

It didn’t end there, the rest of the week he was constantly playing Cher. You didn’t even know he liked her like that, and he’s been acting odd all week. 

He asked you to watch almost every Robin Williams movie with him, and then begged you to watch The View with him, the entertainment news, because Whoopi Goldburg was awesome. You questioned him but gave in, it was odd sure but so was he, so you reckon nothing was terribly out of the ordinary. 

Last night he turned off a Cher cd to turn on the TV, he watched the screen like a hawk. You blinked and looked around, “Why are we watching Anderson Cooper in Al Qaeda?” Peter threw his head back at you, “Why aren’t we watching Anderson Cooper in Al- Qaeda?” 

You hummed in response, “Tushe.” 

It all made sense today, the weird antics he’s put you through the past week. 

“Babe, what do you think of Cher?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, I’m not a huge fan but I like her stuff a whole lot more when you sing it.” 

“Aw, thanks. How do you feel about Robin Williams?” 

“Actor god, one of the best from our lifetime. Every line he has is delivered perfectly.” 

“Anderson Cooper?” 

“He looks weird, like he has the same energy as an albino elephant. But he’s a damn good journalist, so no complaints.” 

“Whoopi Goldberg?” 

“Comedic genius. What’s with the questions?” 

He ignores you, “Picasso?” 

“A great artist.” 

“Octavia Spencer?” 

You gasp, “I love her.” 

He tries for one more, “Albert Einstein?” 

“A genius. Smartest man in the world, smartest man to exist. With the exception of ancient Greece.” 

Peter hummed, content with all your answers. 

“You know what you have in common with all of those people?” 

You snort, “No, what?” 

He looks at you, “They’re all dyslexic.” 

You drop your jaw, “No?” 

He nods, “Cher struggled growing up, her’s were numbers. Robin Williams got words mixed up, he used to day “Trick or Trout” as a kid. Anderson Cooper struggled his entire life until he spoke up about it, with reading specialists and intervention he got through high school, then went to Yale. Whoopi Goldberg says her advantage is that she can see things differently, and it’s more interesting than how other people see it, and that she really hated growing up that no one saw her as smart, she was. She just saw everything differently.” 

You were speechless, you just looked at the ground and blinked, these great, amazing people all struggled with what you did. Celebrities, they're just like you! 

“I’m not done. Picasso would flip things around, make art of how his brain saw things. Octavia Spencer struggled with reading out loud, but she was smarter in other places. She would crush mazes and had incredible deductive reasoning. She even wrote two books all by herself, with dyslexia. And Einstein? They thought he was a dumb boy and nothing more because he was so bad with reading and writing, and claimed that words or language, as they are written or spoken don’t play a role in his mechanism of thought. He said that imagination means more than knowledge. Knowledge is limited, imagination encircles the world.”

 “It’s possible, Y/N. It’s okay to get frustrated, it’s okay to take a break but you also have to push through. And it’s not fair, and I don’t know what it’s like for you everyday. But, it’s possible to move on and get a good job, and go to a good college, and struggle less and less along the way. It’s always going to be there, and if I could take that from you sweetheart, I would. But it’s a part of you, and I love that part of you.” 

“You do?” You whisper.

“Of course I do! You’re my girl, and if we have kids and you pass it along then it’s no biggie. Cause they’ll look at their mom and see her living a kick ass life with a disability. It’s all about how you let it define you, I know you see this as never ending but it gets better and easier, it just takes time. I know you hated it, but when you read to me every night I could see you change, you got more confident the more you did it, because you were recognizing words and didn’t freeze over them.” 

“I did?” 

“Yes! Remember how excited you were when I told you that you went three pages without questioning a word? We set that as a new record, when we first started you would barely make it through a paragraph.” 

“Will you do it with me?” 

If you needed to believe in yourself then you needed Peter, because he always believed in you even when you couldn’t understand why. 

“Do what?” 

“Be there for me, let me read to you and help me with word recognition and help me figure out where I’m smart for a boost of confidence.” 

“I’m here for you, baby. No matter what, alright? I would love to help you figure this out, we’re life partners, right?” 

“Right.” You grin at him and he exclaims, “Oh, I got one! Puzzles!” He crouches to pull a box from under the coffee table, “You’re great at puzzles, we can do one together and I’ll cry when you piece it together in an hour.” 

You take the box and hold it against your chest, “Actually, can I read you a chapter of that book? I kinda want to see how Amberlynn dies.” 

“At the rate you read it’ll really build the suspense.” 

You narrow your eyes, “Thin ice, Parker. Thin ice.” 

He raises his hands up in surrender and you grab the book and point for him to sit down, you sit next to him and clear your throat. You take a deep breath and open to the page with a bookmark poking out, you hesitate but ignore your thoughts and start reading, and you go until you can’t stand it anymore. 

You turn to see Peter looking at you with the biggest smile you’ve seen from him. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, “Not one, Y/N. Not one slip up.” 

[denaliwrites]

Pickin' Up the Pieces of the Mess You Made

Aziraphale x GN!Reader

Catch and Release Prompt: "Abandon"

Summary: Aziraphale takes you in because he's kind and soft, but the work that follows is not what he anticipated.

Soundtrack: All You Had To Do Was Stay by Taylor Swift

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Abandonment and associated trauma.

He'd found you behind the bookshop on a rainy afternoon.

He'd apparently heard crying and come out to investigate, only to find you leaned against the wall, sobbing your heart out. His hands had been gentle as he carefully peeled you from the wall and guided you inside.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you worried about the chair he'd sat you down in, but almost as if he'd read your mind, he told you not to concern yourself over it.

But you continued to worry, even as he bustled about, bringing you tea and snacks that seemed suspiciously fresh, a blanket, books that he'd somehow guessed were just the kind you liked. Anything to stop the tears.

Yet they continued to pour, though after a point it was because you were drowning in his kindness. Whatever you'd been crying about before was blessedly forgotten for the time being.

When the man asked you why you were crying (before he'd found you, he made sure to specify), you'd had difficulty explaining. It wasn't that you necessarily thought he wouldn't understand? It was just that...

Well, you kind of thought he wouldn't understand.

You weren't really sure why. He was (supposedly) human, after all, and many human experiences were universal. It was just, when you looked into his eyes, well... he seemed a little too... pure? Innocent? Untainted by the horrors of the world?

"It's nothing," you'd told him with a sniffle. "Relationship problems."

"Oh, dear," he'd responded, scooting his own chair closer to yours.

His knees were touching yours. Instinctively you'd withdrawn, pulling your legs up so that they were curled up to your chest. You'd pretended not to see the hurt in his eyes.

The rest of the day had gone by much like that.

He'd gone back to work, but had checked in on you regularly, and you'd sat in silence alternating between staring out the window and trying to read, with occasional sips of tea and nibbles of treats.

And when he'd closed the shop, you'd retreated off into the night without a word.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

You could see the surprise in his eyes when you ducked into the shop a few weeks later.

He quickly hid it behind a warm smile, though, and walked over to greet you. "My dear," he started, beckoning you deeper inside the shop, "what a pleasant surprise. Please, stay for a spell?"

You wanted to say no -- you weren't even sure why you were here -- but you found it weirdly hard to say no to him. Something in his eyes just... glued you to the spot, in a way.

"I... yeah. All right."

He led you over to the chair you'd sat in that first day, and pulled up the same chair he'd sat in, too. When you sat, you made sure that your legs were curled up underneath you.

He saw it -- you know he did. But he said nothing, and his eyes were quick to trail away.

"What brings you back, my dear?" he asked casually.

Oh.

"I don't really know," you answered honestly.

"That's all right. You don't always need a reason to do things!"

He was way too chipper. Definitely had not experienced even a single terrible thing in his life.

You found yourself thinking good for him rather unironically.

The rest of the day was passed mostly in silence, though he did, somehow, manage to coax you into speaking a few times (other than the occasional "thank you" when he brought you things).

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Aziraphale knew from the very beginning that he had to handle you with “kid gloves,” as he’d heard people say.

You weren't very forthcoming with information about yourself, nor did you make any kind of effort to learn any information about others (you'd visited several times over the course of a few months and still hadn't asked for his name or offered your own, for example). You refused to be touched. You'd leave if he asked a question he could only guess was too personal for you.

Overall, getting close to you was a struggle.

But you kept coming back, so clearly you were getting something from him that you needed -- or, perhaps, you wanted to let him in and just weren't sure how. He wanted to help, whatever the case turned out to be, but he was having a hard time figuring out what exactly it was you wanted or needed from him.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

You finally told him your name.

Six months of you visiting the shop, and you finally told him your name.

He was quite surprised by it, honestly. It had rather come from nowhere. One moment you were curled up on the chair -- your chair, now -- and the next you were beside him, handing him a piece of paper.

He read your name aloud and looked up to see your eyes light up -- before you dashed away and out of the shop like a frightened animal.

Well, it's progress, at least, he thought.

And you made more progress the next time you visited, by (again, to Aziraphale's surprise) asking for his name.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The next few months were an exercise in patience and moderation, as he had to learn how much information was too much to ask for. The good news, at least, was that you no longer fled the moment a question that was too personal was posed. You shut down and didn't answer, but that was still better than you leaving altogether.

Bit by bit, he started to learn more about you. And he really didn't like the image that was starting to form.

It had nothing to do with you, really. Moreso what had been done to you. Friends and family and partners leaving. Always leaving. No wonder you'd refused to get close for so long. Why you were still taking your time.

He realized now how many tests he had to have been given -- and how many he had to have passed -- to have gotten to this point. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a little proud.

But you were the important part of all this -- the most important part.

Now that he understood, he knew -- generally speaking -- what kind of help you needed, but not necessarily how to help you.

Luckily, you found the answer all on your own.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

You'd been hanging around the bookshop for about a year. By then, Aziraphale (you still couldn't get over what an odd name that was) knew most of the pieces that you were made up of. And you knew he wished he could help more, but neither of you were really sure how.

And then you found Ralph.

Ralph was a tiny, sickly kitten that you found one day, curled up in the same spot Aziraphale had found you in that first time you'd met.

It was like fate, or maybe a miracle.

Especially as he warmed up to you rather quickly. Desperately, even. How could you even think of saying no to a tiny kitten in need? A sick one, at that. And he was all white, just like Aziraphale's hair.

Speaking of...

You wondered how he'd take to the kitten.

"Oh, dear," he said the moment you walked into the shop with the little thing held in your arms. "What did you find out there?"

"His name is Ralph," you told him, eyes glued to the kitten.

You didn't realize that Aziraphale's friend Crowley was there until you heard his voice saying, "That looks to me like a cat, angel."

"Yes, Crowley, I can see it's a cat," Aziraphale answered with a sigh.

"His name is Ralph," you repeated, finally looking up. Your eyes met with Aziraphale's, and he instantly melted.

"... Does Ralph need a place to stay?" he asked, and you beamed.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

With your care and Aziraphale's help (some of it unbeknownst to you), Ralph grew quickly. He got over whatever illness he had within a week of living in the bookshop, and from there everything was smooth sailing.

You visited more often, now that you had something to care for living in the shop. You talked more, having something nearby that relaxed you -- that wouldn't leave you. You loved that little kitten.

And Aziraphale was grateful for how the kitten helped you. He'd even go so far as to say he loved it, too.

And, well, it didn't take him long to find that he loved you, too, once you allowed him to get close enough to do so. He worried a bit, at first, that you didn't love him back, or maybe that you did but wouldn't allow yourself to admit you'd gotten close enough to someone for those kinds of feelings to develop.

But then one day, Ralph padded up to him with a friendly chirrup and when he looked down, Aziraphale saw a note sticking out of the cat's collar.

This wasn't unusual -- you'd bought a little parcel holder for Ralph specifically for just that purpose.

What was unusual, however, was that the note was asking him out to dinner -- and when he looked up to find you in the shop, you were, with great effort, making a point to look everywhere but at him.

So he wrote a note and stuck it into Ralph's little carrier, and off the cat went to deliver his message.

A few moments later, you called out from somewhere in the shop, "Seven sounds great!"

[soft4gguk]

please give us recommendations of your favorite books and your comfort fics! xoxoxo

omg fun!!! yessss, I would love to!!! recs under the cut :)

okay so let's start with books. please, don't let the summer end without reading Bonjour Tristesse by François Sagan. I read this book when I was like... sixteen or something. I was probably too young to be reading it lol. but it's SO GOOD, I'd almost forgotten how good it is!! I recently picked it back up at the beginning of the summer and it like, reseted my entire way of interpreting literature. that's how much I love this book lol. also Just Kids by Patti Smith is such an amazing book, I cannot stress it enough. it's genuinely my comfort read whenever I'm feeling a little lost, specially in my artistic journey (what a pretentious way of putting it lol!). Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto is also such a comfort read for me. albeit a bit sad at times, it somehow feels like a hug as you read!! Normal People by Sally Rooney was a summer re-read for me and I loved it, although at times I was like... wtf. lol. but yeah, it's a good book. anything, and I mean, ANYTHING! by Toni Morisson (I've read her whole repertoire this summer) will have you LEVITATING. her way of threading words is actually insane. she's definitely one of my favourite authors, if not my favourite author lol. she's so amazing. it literally feels like she's in front of you and telling you the whole story in one sitting (hence why I devoured it). also, anything by Annie Ernaux will have you highly entertained. it's not light, but it's entertaining. she's an amazing writer, too. so easy to want to keep reading. and as for the oldies and classics I've been back in my Fitzgerald kick (I will forever love The Great Gatsby) and anything James Baldwin!!! (Giovanni's Room has been my most recent read by him).

as for fics!!! okay so anything by stella @venusiangguk but specifically realizations concerning real life relations. ooooh. I still don't know how she did it. it's genuinely the best thing I've ever read on this app lol. and it's my comfort fic even though it's devastating 😩. a still day or a hurricane by mimi @ahundredtimesover definitely reseted my entire being. aligned my chakras. nothing has ever hit the way that fic did lol. if you're an OG, you probably remember my elaborate reviews of each chapter hehe. I LOVE THIS FIC OK!! it's so good ugh. also, bad influence by @noteguk never ever fails to HIT. like it HIIIIIIIIITS. whenever I need to feel something, that's where I end up at lol. and last but certainly not least, my favourite jk EVER is at the hands of @bratkook in concrete king!!! go check all of these out, trust me I have put my non-army friends into some of these stories just to prove my point and point proven INDEED.

[imthefemalemonster]

Hiii

Can u Yandere!Daemon Targaryen x reader

He kind of force her to marry him after he arrive in pentos (he didn’t marry leana) time pass and she just love him and they have lots os kids. They go to leana funeral but daemon don’t left her side, when people tried to talk to him alone he says that his wife stays. The one second that she left his side to attend one of their kids Rhaenyra came to his side and asks if he love reader and he barely look at her before saying that she’s his moon end stars (Khal Drogo vibes) ❤️❤️❤️

Hello beautiful! Of course I can, I loved the ideas and I tried to develop a bit more the start of the relationship, I hope you like it. ♡

***

⸻We'll Meet Again

Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader (Fluff/Mature themes)

⸻ Summary: Love grows mysterious way; you soon find out when Prince Daemon Targaryen seeks your hand and even the Gods themselves wouldn't dare refuse him.

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Dubcon, (at the beginning), Obsessed/Overprotective Daemon, Forced Marriage, Innocence Kink, Age Difference, (age not specified but reader is ~20), Fluff, Kisses, Hugs, Mention of Sex, No Use of Y/N, No beta feminism left my body when I wrote this

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: Requested by anon, I hope you like it. ♡

There’s mention of some sex/virginity loss/first time but nothing too bad, not really smutty more fluffly with Daemon being obsessed ((manipulative)) and overprotective with you. ~

Warning for dubcon at the beginning.

Tumblr for ideas/requests: @imthefemalemonster

Smut & fluff prompts: here & here

⸻ Words: 4934

The afternoon sun hit your skin as you walked down the streets. Busy and noisy, you wandered with ease in the crowd, in the city you knew all too well. You had to meet friends at the port, the one Pentos was most known for. You had proposed to meet in the beautiful gardens close to your home, but the air of the sea suited your friends more. As you arrived near, you looked around, only finding goods, people and boats. The familiarity of the place reassured you, the smell of the water like a mother’s embrace. But as you walked down the gardens, into the city and to the port, for some time now, you had felt eyes on you, two orbits you saw too much to be a mere coincidence.

Daughter of a public figure of the city, your father made rich from the trades of spice, you were accustomed to interested men gravitating around you. But youthful as you were, or rather innocent and unbothered. You had never really thought about the next big steps in your life, you preferred living in the instant. What pleased you were long walks, books that told a hundred stories, and the little voices in the walls who recounted the tales of love and betrayal of the people of the city, of the lands, and past the sea. You listened with much care, learning about the things you would maybe never see. Seated next to your friends facing the sea, you heard songs and stories, your noses in books as you all laughed and speculated on how the other people outside the city must live. You had a few friends over there, girls you met times ago, their letters would crack under your curious fingers, drowning into the words of another world. As you listened to the story of your friend and flying lizards, which you longed to see one day, you noticed the presence back not far away from you. You couldn’t quite catch the sight for long, everytime your eyes met, the figure would disappear soon after. You had never paid much attention to it, you were used to being looked at. But something deep inside you knew that this was different. Turning your head back to your friends, you soon forgot the blonde locks and lilac stare, until the next time you meet.

It happened in the garden the second time you really paid attention to it, you won a tender smile. The third time a voice, a low, deep one who sounded both like a threat and honey, like a blade would tenderly brush your skin, each second menacing to pierce your body and see the blood flow out of it. The fourth time, you couldn’t remember, was it at the port again? Near your home? As the day passed, it felt like everyday. Everyday a shadow behind you, eyes on your figure. Hands that grazed your back, fingers brushing your neck, smiles exchanged. Curiosity got the better of you when you approached, naive as you were. The gardens were full of people, talking, laughing. Digits touched slightly as the words flowed in your ears, lips sweet against your skin. He had a name and a title you would not forget. Once again the orbs left you alone, your hands gripping the silk of your dress, lips parted as you wanted to call him back. Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon had rarely held this much restraint. What he desired, he always got, whatever it cost. So when it came to you, he observed, he stalked, he learnt. You were much younger, walking around the city with an innocence to match his insolence. Your laugh was honey to his ears, your face as enchanting as the sun, your voice a bliss he could beg to hear singing, as you did once in your home’s garden as he was resting near. The first time he noticed you, you never left his mind. It was similar to poison, but one he would drink day after days after day even if it consummated him to the bones. Without your knowledge, he followed you in the city, he watched your fingers turn the pages of a book, the details of your joints engraved in his mind as they moved gracefully. He observed your lips moving as you talked, laughed, called to your friends or spoke words he drowned into. Daemon desired you all over his body, and desired him all over yours. At first it was soft, discreet caresses. When he got tired of just following you around, he craved to touch. He lost his hands behind your exposed back, digits tracing your spine. He observed you shiver at the touch, trying to meet the eyes of the culprit of these unwanted caresses. Daemon would smile at your visible distress mixed with curiosity, his arousal growing stronger with each touch. He grazed your neck, arms, hands. He wanted to possess you whole.

When he noticed people, especially men talking to you, he would fixate on them until they couldn’t hold his lilac stare anymore and they would leave. Rejoicing in the newfound power he had, as much as his reputation gave him, he observed you walking alone, shadowing you like he was your dark reflection caused by the sun. After you really interacted for the first time, to his delight, exchanging names and smiles, he was even more present at your sides. He never thought you really appreciated it, he never cared, in time you would, he would make you love it. So you walked together, talked all afternoons long, spend evenings together. He would randomly show up at your door, surprised but touched by the attention, you obliged him. When he walked all the way to you, he would grab your wrists, his figure broad and impressive, you felt small, a kitten held in gigantic arms. You couldn’t quite tell if you appreciated it, all the attention, all the time, but your life had become his. Everytime he met you eyes, Daemon used all his strength, everything he didn’t know the Gods could give him not to press you onto him and devour you whole like he dreamed for weeks now.

That night, Daemon had invited you to a sort of feast organized nearby. You weren’t sure what was celebrated, but you accepted as you loved to hang out. Maybe you could find your friends there, some you hadn’t seen for some time now since you spent most of your time with Daemon now. You felt some relief at the idea, the city was noisy with music and voices, busy with lights and fire at every corner, you rejoiced at the atmosphere. When you stepped out of your house, he was already here. The Rogue Prince, standing fiercely, eyes stripping you from your thin dress as he looked at you from toes to head.

“You smell really nice.”, he whispered as he stalked toward you, hands resting on your waist as his head leaned into your neck.

The contacts had become so much more intimate the past few days. You only thought it was gentle and attentionate. Sometimes you couldn’t quite decipher the smirk on his lips as he looked at you. To you it was kindness, to him it was hunger. He reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the skin, his digits trapping your own as he guided you toward the exit, down the streets, into a grand and beautiful house decorated with magnificent mosaics. There he placed his arm around your waist, locking you against him. Inside, you walked like a couple you were not, to you, not to him.

Daemon had hoped you would stick with him, now that you had learned the lesson. Maybe he had not worked hard enough, or maybe you were really this naive. When you immediately left his arms, the heat of your body leaving with you, he groaned in discontentment. Stalking behind you as you wandered and talked to people you knew, he observed each of the faces, each he would remember so they never talked to you again. His digits found your neck, your arms, your back, but everytime you escaped his control. You went around laughing, sometimes turning back to smile at him and invite him near. He drowned in these moments you would look at him, and him only. That all of you were focused on him. He could grab you, lift you above the crowd and claim you as his. After hours of talking and laughing, music buzzing in your ears, your feet and body were exhausted. You were still in the middle of everyone, you sighed ready to leave as you felt a harsh grip on your waist. You recognized the touch immediately, Daemon’s chest pressing in your back, his lips brushing the overheated skin of your neck.

“Give me your attention.”

The words left his mouth so fast, cold as ice, it felt more like an order than an invitation.

“I’m sorry?”, you mumbled, eyes filled with confusion.

“I haven’t received any.”

You choked on the words. His voice wasn’t low and soft like it used to. It was guttural and scary, like it was coming from a part deep inside him you never wanted to meet with. You heard the stories, you would rather not finish impaled on a sword or fed to a dragon.

“All night.”, he continued, spinning you around with no care for your tired body, his eyes staring into yours, intimidating.

“All-”, you paused, uncertain of his intentions, “I’ve been with you all night.”

He scoffed at the words, a hand on your neck, squeezing it slightly. Smirk on his lips, more vile than kind. He pressed his broad body onto yours, you felt crushed, by him, and by all the people around you.

“You have not paid attention to me all night”, he repeated, the sentence like a blade ripping your throat open, “Apart from glancing at me and laughing with other… men.”

The last word was accentuated like an insult. You swallowed, his thumb pressing on your neck as he felt it. You felt both angry and sorry. Maybe you could indulge in more time with him, but you already did everyday. You sighed. One last time then.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes sparkled at the words, lips moving into a soft smile. You had found the right words, you thought. He nodded, a hand cupping your cheek. A gentle and reassuring move, to you. To him, he could mold you to every of his desires because you were so easy to frighten.

“It’s all fine.”

You smiled as he lowered his hand to your wrist, brushing it gently, digits closing around it as his body started to move back, taking you with him

“You can give me this attention now, I promise to use it well”, he murmured against your face, flushed at the hot air hitting your skin. “How about we finish the night elsewhere?”

Unsure what the words meant, you simply nodded, letting him guide you outside. You walked past people and houses, down the street to the port, where you loved to rest during the day. It was dark, deep in the night as you sat facing the sea. You felt reassured, it was just another gentle evening at his side, maybe he had gotten overwhelmed by the people, and you wanted to reassure him that your friendship was still intact. Legs slightly brushing one another, he fixed at you. His face had changed, you couldn’t quite decipher it. He was smiling, but it didn’t feel gentle. You wanted to ask a thousand questions.

Daemon was lost in his thoughts. He was so close to both his goal and climax. Your naive, flushed face turned toward him, he could have lost it in seconds. He dreamed of your scent and naked body, to have you scream his name on the very floor. But he doubted you had the same idea in mind even if he wished you did. Forcing the act was considered but he didn’t go with it, he would rather avoid a diplomatic incident. He was surprised by his own restraint. He would win this war with words and touches, like he did for weeks now. You would yield.

“I’ve never felt stronger than when you’re with me.”

Your eyes widened at the words, knowing him, it meant much. Blushing you lowered your head to your hands, shyly intertwining your fingers as they danced on your dress.

“How strong?”, you laughed. He focused on your hands, his eyes lost on the motions as he dreamed of having them all over his scared body.

“Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”

You obeyed, raising a hand toward him, unsure what he would do with it. He softly grabbed it with his own, he paused for a second, observing every detail on your beautiful skin, before softly kissing the top of it. You shivered at the touch, cheeks red and eyes escaping the intimate sight.

“Daemon-”, you chuckled. You had heard and read a thousand love stories. This is how they started and you smiled at the nice intention. You tried to withdraw your hand, ready to ask him to take you home, your tired body starting to hurt. But when you moved your arm, he only squeezed your hand harder, pulling it to him. You frowned your eyebrows, raising your head to look at him, confused. Everything sane had left him, his eyes were as dark as the night and as savage as the sea.

“You are my love.”

Waves crashed near you. You wished they would have swallowed you whole with the words just spoken. You had understood Daemon’s intentions a while ago, you weren't a stranger to the flattering of men. But you had never shown interest back, you thought. And if you ever did, you wished for it to take the time it needed, the one you needed. Maybe love wasn’t the word yet, you had sincere feelings for the man, gratitude to his kindness and attention.

“I don’t-”

You couldn’t speak. What could be said?

“You don’t love me?”

Eyes closed, your hand still trapped in his, you felt it tense, squeezing your harder. It felt like a warning, not like concern.

“I-”, you searched for the right words again, “That’s not what I mean no. I truly appreciate you…”

“Then what?”, his eyes pierced right through your heart, it bled like rain falling from the saddened skies.

“I’m not- I’m not ready Daemon”, you spoke, voice trembling.

“You don’t need to be”, he rasped, “You never truly are.”

You shook your head at the words, it didn’t make sense.

“I don’t want it.”

His digits dug in your palm, his breaths heavy. You wondered if it was going to be the sword or the dragon that would end you.

“You don’t”, he whispered, he had not moved a bit, like he was turned into a statue, his face similar to stone, “Then what of the touches? The smiles? The laughs? The time spent together?”

“Simple kindness!”. You let go of the words, wondering if you would regret them, “You were nice, and I appreciated it, so I was nice too. That’s it.”

“But that’s not love to you?”, he scoffed, “Oh you truly are that innocent.”

“I never said it wasn’t, I only said I didn’t know yet.”, you whined, “Maybe with more time.”

“I don’t want more time.”, Daemon grumbled, “I know what I want.”

You raised your eyes to meet his stare, as time had passed, you had both moved closer, you got lost in his eyes and him in yours.

"I want you.”

Your heart stopped beating, it felt like void, no noise was to be heard but the whispers of the sea. May she deliver you. Silence loomed for minutes.

“B-but my family”, it was merely an excuse, you didn’t really care. You only wanted to get out of here, out of his manipulative grasp.

“They didn’t deserve you.” His thumb brushed your hand softly, he almost had you. “I’ll treat you well. I’ll love you. I already do.”

Eyes tearing up you closed your eyes, focusing on your heart racing again. Your digits intertwined like real lovers.

“Love…”, he whispered. The words had you tensing. It felt good, yet menacing. Did you even have a choice? Accept and it was done, but refuse? It would probably be worse. You heard the stories, you knew the stories. You felt his presence lean closer to you, his nose brushing yours.

“F-fine.” You gave up. Maybe you only needed time. He drank your words like the best wine, his smile malicious, victorious.

Thoughts and prayers were taken away from you like air in your lungs when his hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your lips to his. The distance was closed in a wet contact, much more gentle and loving than you imagined. And to the first kiss followed the first night.

Your father was quick to accept. You never really thought about his opinion on it, but considering his status there was nothing more he could wish than having you bed a Prince. You felt a sort of abandon when they agreed so fast. To be tossed around wasn’t your greatest joy. You still had to process the last night and the gravity of Daemon words. Your father wasn’t necessarily overjoyed, everything was business to him. If the business was good, then he rolled with it. Within the day it was done. Now Daemon didn’t have any sort of restraint concerning you anymore. He stayed at your house and came when he wanted. At first it was a grand annoyance to you, you felt like liberties had been taken away. But as the days passed, the word ‘husband’ slinging on your tongue started to please you, as you were met with ‘wife’, even if you preferred ‘my love’. You couldn’t quite explain it, something felt right.

You sensed something different in Daemon, like his chains had been taken off. He was still terribly overprotective, especially after claiming before all as his wife and to his words, ‘his greatest love’. You experienced everything of a wife, and more to the fact that you were the Rogue Prince’s. Now Daemon was not shy to threaten anyone who would look down on you or wouldn’t treat you well enough to his taste. The men walked toward you eyes on the floor, the women envied you as you told the thousand kind attentions Daemon had toward you everyday. He wanted you both to experience everything of love and more.

The first time was… strange. You remember his own excitement and your confusion. You had… read things. But you still rested there on the bed, inexperienced and exposed to his expert hands. Freezing and tense, your heart beat to a never ending race. When he crawled above you, you braced yourself for the pain you have been told about. But to your great surprise, you were drowned in praises and kisses, exchanging smiles and laughs. You remember the feeling, it was painful, but it was accompanied by your loving husband's willing hands and mouth. For the few seconds of pain you had, he granted you hours of pleasure. And it never ended, each night back at it. You kissed and kissed, whispering words, your bodies enlaced, full of him as he melted into your tender embrace, worshiping your body like the Gods.

The first kick happened at night. You couldn’t sleep well as the month went by and your belly grew larger. When you felt it move your eyes widened. It didn’t hurt, it just felt weird to feel the little babe growing inside you manifesting itself. Smiling, you brushed your skin hoping it felt it too. You leaned closer to Daemon, fingers tapping his chest. Sleeping was much easier for him as he was glued to your body, legs intertwined, arm under your head and breath heavy against your sensitive skin. He emerged when you kept pinching his cheek, trying to get his attention. He turned to you, face half awake, worry in his eyes. Since the start of your pregnancy he had been more than overprotective. You struggled to thought it was possible. But he followed you everywhere, never leaving you alone. He ensured you always had maidens around in case anything happened. You took naps together, bathed together. He spend hours head resting next to your growing belly, peppering kisses all over it. He whispered soft and loving words to the babe. You watched him, brushing his hair while he felt asleep on your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?”, he spoke, sitting up, his hand brushing your shoulders, thumb circling the skin in a reassuring manner.

You smiled at him, gently guiding his hand toward your baby bump.

“It keeps moving”, you mumbled, falsely vexed as you closed your eyes to melt into his touch. His digits grazing the skin, slowly tracing your rounded belly. He laid back on the bed, face next to yours as you exchanged loving kisses, the baby’s kicks reminding you of its presence. “They are going to love you.”

“They?”

“I want many of them.”, you smiled against his lips. He laughed into your mouth as he planted kisses on it.

Entering into labor was probably the scariest thing that happened to you. You had heard much about giving birth, but all the words Daemon would whisper in your ears couldn’t calm you down when the first contractions happened. It felt like tearing your body apart. You groaned and used words nobody thought could come out of your mouth. You ripped the fabric open in your hand, cried to whoever would hear you. As always, Daemon was at your side. You screamed and begged him to never leave you. He promised it and he never left you. The only time you allowed him to was when he stood up fiercely, your son in his arms as he cradled it, walking back to you. Dropping the little whining babe in your arms, he sat next to you, brushing the sweat off your face. He laid next to you, arms over your body and the little one. I love you. The sun set and the moon rose, the years passed and he was here for your second son, and still here for your little girl.

“I’m not leaving your side.”

Daemon looked after your two little boys like the most precious things he had. They looked very much like him. Fearless, brave, insolent. They ran around the house, escaping your sermons when Daemon laughed them off. They looked up to him with such admiration, he walked them to the port, trained them with the sword, and rode Caraxes with them. He had all eyes on your two little Princes. He praised them, kissed them, hugged them, loved them more than you could ever hope. You watched them grow in his arms. After their birth, waiting for your third child who happened to be a girl you wondered if he would treat her any different. Worries bubbled in your belly as she grew. She was very much like him too, which Daemon adored. He cherished her with everything he had, he taught your boys to love her as much. Barely walking, held between her older brothers, she walked with them to the port, into the gardens, her eyes sparkling like her father, fire into her veins. The girl was very talkative, even if her babbling didn’t make sense to others, Daemon listened to it for hours as she sat on the bed with her small hand moving in the air. He was so attentive, so focused, he answered back and their connection grew stronger each day.

“You were right here all along.”, you whispered.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at the words, unsure of what they meant. You were both laying in the grass, the afternoon sun cradling you both as your children were running around amongst the flowers in the garden. You heard their little yells and laughs as they were chasing butterflies under Daemon’s attentive gaze.

“You do love me.”

“You thought I lied?”, he murmured. There was no anger in his voice, but you could decipher a hint of sadness.

“No”, you reassured, cupping his cheek gently as you smiled at him, “But I like that it showed through the years.”, you paused, “By other means than grabbing my hand and kissing it.”

A shy laugh left him as he kissed your temple. You felt a small presence at your side as you turned, meeting with your lovely daughter, still struggling to hold onto her feet.

“Love you”, she babbled, resting her chin on your shoulders. You pinched her round cheeks and she laughed, head wiggling to escape your teasing touches.

“And me?”, pouted Daemon, falsely looking annoyed. The little girl raised her eyes to meet his, their lilac orbits clashing. There was as much insolence in her as there was in him, he loved and encouraged it each day.

“Love you too.”, she finally spoke, tongue escaping her tiny lips in defiance. A smile tore through Daemon’s face as he scoffed, twiddling the mess of her hair.

Leaving Pentos for the first time in your life was a huge step forward for you, you only wished it wasn’t because a close friend passed away. For years you exchanged letters with Laena, she was sweet and caring, strong and loved. Daemon was obviously saddened at the news, he apprehended going back there with you and the children. Having you around all the people, some he hated, made him only grow more annoyed and anxious as you embarked for the Driftmark. He hid it but after years together you knew how to interpret each of his moods.

“Never, ever, leave my side”, he ordered before you arrived.

“Didn’t we promise that to each other?”

He smirked at your answer, you had learnt your lesson well years ago. None of you was leaving each other's sides. Never.

As you met with more and more people, family and distant friends, you were asked everywhere. Faces unknown to you, gripping at your children as you held them onto you. You smiled and pretended, but Daemon wasn’t. Apart from his close family, which were his brother, sister and niece, and a few selected friends, he was cold to everyone else, especially those who looked down upon you. You were a woman of a distant land, some treated you like an exotic good to be handled and looked at. You greeted people with politeness, speaking a few words of your land. You felt your husband's grip tighten around your waist. Digits intertwined with his, you tried to reassure him, soft smile on your lips.

During the day, Daemon was asked more than once. Everytime the men looked at you with nonchalance as you accompanied him. He walked fiercely at your side, holding you like his most loved and precious prize. But you were much more to him than that. Anyone who dared to ask you to leave you meet with the famous Dark Sister, and probably regret it.

“She stays with me.”, he husked everytime the men wanted you to leave him. Nobody dared to contest the Rogue Prince’s decision.

Gentle smile on your face, you would rather avoid a slaughter. Each time Daemon started to threaten the people that treated you too badly to his taste, you would brush his face, his shoulders, desperately trying to soothe him before he lost it. Still you were reassured he never wanted you to leave his side, this new land was making you so anxious, looking after your kids as they ran away with others, scared to lose everything you had built for years.

Later that day, your little girl couldn’t stop pulling on your dress, whining that she wanted to go and see the pets, as she called the dragons. You had seen them too, beautiful, impressive, you wanted to take her closer to them, but Daemon was lost in an important conversation. Softly you whispered to him, his eyes traveled to you and his daughter as you pointed to them. For a second he hesitated, squeezing your hand harder, but he couldn’t refuse anything his children asked. He nodded, worry in his eyes as he watched you both walk away from him, already missing your presence. His eyes never left you, smirk on his lips as his boys jumped, hands in the air to get the wyrms’ attention. He heard their laughs and yells when the impressive dragons moved around, observing your figure, bent over to hold your little girl.

“They are beautiful, Uncle.”

Daemon recognized the voice, nodding at the words. Rhaenyra moved to his side, her magnificent eyes staring in your direction.

“They are”, he murmured, eyes still fixated on you and your children, a hand on the hilt of his blade, the other empty, missing your loving warmth.

“You love her do you?”, she questioned, asking like she knew the answer.

“I love them”, Daemon corrected, smirking, “Our relationship is the most important thing in my life.”

He paused for a second, eyes closed. He hoped the wind could carry his words across the lands and seas.

“I am but a starless sky without her. Empty. Lost. Each time they shine it reminds me of her laugh, her smile, her warmth. She'll always be the spark to my void.”

[i-love-oldermen]

|The Winchester|

A/n: Angsty so im kinda just writing, should I make a part 2?? Trust big plot twist

Summary: It’s been years since you’ve seen Dean, you left him but he was the love of your life.

Warnings: Some Language also not edited yet.

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, you were on a hunt by yourself. You left your family of hunters due to the fact they were to overbearing and thought you would get hurt all the time. You left 5 years ago and you hadn’t seen them since the big argument. No one has seen you, you made sure you never ran into someone that may have known you. Still finding cases in towns and making sure to change your name with every case although now you needed help so you went to one of the best hunters you know. Bobby Singer.

You had been hunting the nest for what felt like eternity

Contemplating your decisions you pull up to Bobby’s house. Parking your cherry red 1968 Chevelle, you turn off the roaring engine. That’s when you see Bobby coming out with a shotgun. You get out of your car, shutting the door behind you, you put your hands up and stand right next to your car while holding your side.

“Who the hell are you” Bobby doesn’t put down his shotgun. He looks you over noticing the blood on your shirt.

“Please I need your help Bobby, I’m a hunter too” he puts his gun down but puts it back up once you take a step towards him. “You know my father Bobby”

“What’s your name kid”

“Y/n. Y/n Harvelle”

Bobby lowers his gun. He has a sad look on his face, you don’t know why though. Yes your father did die a year after you left but you’re more careful then he was hunting.

“I know Bobby”

“You went MIA you had everyone looking for you” He gives you a look of disbelief.

“I’m good at hiding plus I didn’t wanna be found” you shrug it off as you follow Bobby inside his house.

————————————————————————

After a while you tell Bobby about the hunt you’re on basic vamp nest but you can’t seem to find the nests location. You both start going over the lore just double checking anything you could have missed. Your thinking is cut silent by a knocking at the door.

“You just stay here okay kiddo” you shake your head and stay in your spot at Bobby’s desk.

He opens the door calling whoever is on the other side idjits. You continue reading the book you have opened on the desk, when you hear his voice. Dean Winchester. You saw him a year after you left your family, the day your father passed. You were crying in his arms while he held you tell you fell asleep. When he finally woke up the morning after you were gone, you found out he had called your mother, Hellen while you were asleep so you disappeared and never talked to him again. Now though he was here at Bobby’s it was to late to run out the back door as Bobby led him and Sam to the living room where you were sitting.

Dean is speaking to Bobby “we just need some books for-“ when his eyes land on you he stops talking, as if he was frozen in place.

Bobby calls out to you “Y/n the Winchester boys are here”

You quickly get up from your spot standing up, biting the inside of your cheek. You look into Deans eyes hes just as beautiful as the day you left him.

Dean speaks first his eyes cold at first “I saw that Chevelle and prayed to god i didńt have to see you”

Bobby looks at Dean with a disappointed look “What is the matter with you Dean”

Dean looks at you again with nothing but rage “She knows what she did Bobby”

You feel your eyes begin to water, so you turn to Sam instead.

“Hey Sammy” you look at him with a sweet melancholy smile, before he slowly starts walking over to you and hugging you tightly. You can hear Sam’s voice begin to quiver “I thought you died”

You pull away from him holding his face in your hands “I can take care of my self Sam”

Bobby interrupts “Im guessing you guys were close”

“Yeah not anymore” Dean says full of anger or sadness you cant tell. He starts to storm out of Bobbys house so you follow him as he goes to the impala. He gets in his car before starting it and driving away so you do the same racing after him. You grab your phone, trying to call him but he doesn’t answer at all sending you straight to voicemail every time. He starts going faster taking turns to try to lose you but you stay close on his tail. He pulls over when he gets to a motel probably where him and Sam were staying. You pull up right next to him jumping out of your car as he does. Before he can make it to his room, you yell his name. You grab him by his hand as he yanks it away before turning to you.

“Please Dean wait” you look in his eyes to see anger layered on his face.

“No so stop acting like you care y/n”

“I do care”

“You dont get to say you care you left Y/n and you didnt come back, I didnt know if you were dead or alive” he took a step closer to you.

“You don’t get it Dean” you practically whispered.

He yelled back “I dont get what, you didnt want to be with me or the fact you couldn’t love me how i loved you”

As tears threaten to spill you yelled back “I did love you Dean that’s why I had to leave, I couldn’t lose you too”

Truth was on the day you cried in his arms you told him how much your father truly meant to you. You hadn’t told anyone. You told Dean you loved him that night right before he called Helen.

“I told you i loved you the day I left you in that motel room and you said nothing and called my fucking mother” tears slipped from your eyes as you kept eye contact with him.

“I was trying to help you y/n and you wouldn’t let me”

Just like before you were back in his arms as held you close. Not ever wanting to let go you wrap your arms around him as you let the tears spill. You hear his uneven breathing as he lets some tears slip from his eyes. You pull away as hes still holding and grab both the sides of his face, you close your eyes as each others lips crash into one another. His warm lips move in sync with yours, as if you guys never parted to being with. For the first time in a long time, you felt whole again.

You pulled away trying to catch your breathe “Listen Dean I love you more than you could ever know”

Dean wipes the drying tears off your face cradling your face in his hands. He has the smirk on his lips that you’ve loved forever “You love me more than your Chevelle”

You laugh a little “Without a doubt Dean Winchester”

“Good cause I love you more than baby” he pulls you back into a kiss, stepping on your tippy toes you pull him deeper.

You wake up from your dream you’re still at Bobbys. You fell asleep on his desk so he wrapped a blanket around you. You look at your phone to see the time read 3:15 a.m. You went to dial in the love of your life’s number memorizing the numbers. As you listen to the phone ring on the second ring he answers.

“Hello this is Dean”