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waywardxwords · 6 months

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Chapter 5 - Last Names (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: MATURE CONTENT, please do not continue if you are under the age of 18, language, fluff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~4.8k (this is a doozy, possibly one of the longest chapters I've ever written!

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You had never consumed (nor had you seen someone consume) a burger so quickly before in your life. It was a good burger, but that wasn’t what you could focus on.

When Alice came back to the table to check out–ahem, on–you (but mostly Dean), his gaze didn’t even move from yours.

“We’ll take the check now, Alice,” he said carefully as he watched you. The way his eyes studied you made you feel naked. It was like nothing else existed in the world but you. Heat climbed your chest in blotchy patches until they formed islands on your neck, your cheeks. The way your heart pounded against your sternum felt so loud, you could hear each beat in your ears. This man was doing something to you, and that was something you hadn’t experienced in too long.

“Here you go, sugar,” Alice gingerly placed the bill in the middle of the table. She watched Dean intently, certainly hoping for maybe one more look into those beautiful green eyes. He glanced quickly with a smile as he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. He tossed enough cash to cover the meal and the tip on the table, then back to you.

“Thanks, Alice,” he said, without missing another beat. He stood and held his hand out for you to take. “You wanna get outta here?”

Words seemed to fail you for a second, so you just nodded very quickly. Before he could pull you towards the door, he grabbed the grocery bag with the cherry pie you had brought.

“Oh, you forgot to eat your pie,” you murmured as you followed him through the diner.

“I was thinking we might have a different dessert tonight,” he paused at the door as his eyes looked over you once more. You realized he was asking if that’s what you wanted, too. Yet again, all you could do was nod.

Dean’s fingers laced through yours as he led you across the parking lot. The rapid beating of your heart hadn’t slowed, but there was a brief moment you felt the pad of his thumb brush the top of yours to your knuckle and back that made your heart skip.

After a second or two, he had spun you so your back was pressed against his back passenger door. The sound of the grocery bag rustled as he tossed it into the front passenger seat and turned his attention back to you.

You mentally (and physically) gulped.

The way his eyes searched your face one last time, the way his hands cupped your cheeks. It was electric, or maybe even more magnetic. Every time you lost contact with his skin, you craved more. It was as though there was this pull between you that kept drawing you back.

“God, what is it about you?” He breathed the question, and you couldn’t blame him. You had been wondering the same about him. How you couldn’t stop thinking about him after your random encounter in Atlanta. Or the way you couldn’t sit still long enough to meet him in Salina the night before. And now tonight–the way you couldn’t compose yourself after he started blatantly flirting with you.

“Ever since you kissed me last night,” you tested your bravery as your eyes moved over his lips and noted how they glistened in the yellow glow of the street light he had parked under. “I’ve wanted more.” You looked back to his eyes just long enough to see the shadow of his lashes as his lips curve up in a smirk.

After his gaze moved from your eyes to your mouth once more, his lips pressed against yours and moved slowly.

Your hands found his wrists as he still held your face. He moved one hand down to wrap behind you so you were caught between him and his car. The way his body blocked over you made your head spin. Dean tilted his head a bit to get a better angle, and you felt his tongue gently move over your bottom lip. Without wasting another moment, you welcomed him inside.

The skin of your back felt cool as it pressed against the metal of his car and the glass window, but there was warmth where his hand held you–pressed against your lower back carefully, but strategically to apply just the right amount of pressure so you could feel every inch of his chest, his hips, his thighs…

There was a pause from him and the sound of your kiss ending echoed in your ears. You searched his eyes for a moment, and you saw hesitation.

“Maybe we should slow down a little bit,” he half-heartedly chuckled as his eyes fell over you.

“Dean?” You made sure your eye contact with him was solid so he knew you meant it. “I live the most mundane life. If you looked up the definition of boring, my life would be next to it as an example.” Dean laughed softly but brought his fingers up to brush a strand of your hair back that had blown freely with the wind. “Meeting you has been one of the most serendipitous things that’s happened to me, I think. I want this. I want you.”

Another moment passed before Dean’s lips were back on yours, but more slowly this time; purposeful.

“Okay, then,” he said softly as he broke away once more, the lowness of his voice sent another shudder below your skin. “Serendipitous.” He repeated before he kissed you once more. The word sounded like magic as it rolled off of his tongue.

His hands moved more freely now as they both gripped your hips. His thumbs looped in your belt loops as your hands roamed his chest.

“Can we go to your place?” You asked, breathlessly. You were even slightly surprised at your forwardness, but you didn’t let it stop you. His eyes darted between yours and you sensed hesitation.

“I can’t, my, uh, my brother’s there,” his answer sounded hesitant, but you were distracted by the way your heart pulsated in your chest.

You nibbled on your bottom lip for a moment as you tried to think of a solution. The fire in the pit of your stomach didn’t help, but instead urged you to come up with something.

Dean quickly opened his passenger door once more and held it open for you. “I’ll find a place,” he motioned. There was a sense of giddiness that overtook you as you slid into the Impala. It was something about the recklessness that you never allowed yourself to encounter, and the man practically jogging around the front of the car. The smell of leather of the seats mixed with Dean’s faded cologne, you could hardly contain yourself. This man was like a drug, and you were officially hooked.

He pushed the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life. You couldn’t help but slide over the bench seat so you were pressed to his side. As he put the car into drive, your lips found the soft spot just below his ear lobe. Your lips smoothed over the stubble covered skin, and your teeth nibbled gently.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he practically hissed through his teeth. “You’re makin’ me crazy, here.” A gentle chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” you pulled back but felt a different kind of heat pull to your cheeks; this time, it was slight embarrassment. “I’m sorry, just something with you…this just feels so different.”

“Oh, you mean you don’t usually jump your date?” Dean eyed you with a glance as he drove, but a small smile formed on his lips.

Ugh, the embarrassment took over (after your insides tingled a bit at the way he said ‘date’) and you pulled your hand over your face.

“Hey, now,” Dean took one hand off the wheel and gently pulled yours away from your face so he could see you. “Don’t go hiding on me. There’s nothin’ wrong with this, sweetheart. I was just kidding.” His words were gentle, but you could still hear the roughness in his tone as his blood pumped through his body from your closeness to him. “I just want to be very clear—whether anything happens tonight or not, I’ve had the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

The car was filled with darkness as he turned down a road with limited street lights. But in the glow of the moonlight, you could see the white of his teeth and shadows of his features that told you he was telling the truth.

“Me too, Dean,” your words came in a whisper. “But to answer your question,” you cleared your throat and looked down at your hands now in your lap before you continued. “No, I most definitely do not jump my dates. Especially ones who I don’t even know their last name.” You laughed, the song Last Name by Carrie Underwood played for a moment in your brain..

“Ha,” he laughed out loud as stole another glimpse at you before looking back at the road. “Fair enough. And it’s Winchester.” He answered with a smile. Winchester, you made a mental note.

You offered up your last name before the next question came. “Do you…do you regularly seduce your date on the…” you contemplated. What date was this, exactly? “Second date?” It came as two questions, really. The first being if Dean did this on a regular basis; the second questioning which date this was, exactly.

Dean turned into a parking lot of a quaint building. As he pulled into a parking spot, he answered. “Well, first of all, no. I, uh,” he cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably as he continued. “I haven’t been in this kind of situation in…a while.” That was a relief. “And secondly, this is our third date, not second.” You did the mental math and realized he was kind of right, counting when you met in Atlanta. “Technically it could be our fourth…dinner in Atlanta and then hanging out in the hotel.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, come on—if we’re counting that as our first date, it definitely only counts as one,” you smirked, which caused Dean to chuckle again.

“That was the longest first date I’ve ever been on,” Dean had turned his body so he faced you now.

You contemplated that. “Huh, ya know, I think it was the longest first date I’ve ever been on, too.”

“See? It should count as two,” Dean winked. His fingers found yours on what little slice of seat was left between the two of you. “In all seriousness,” he glanced down at your hands where your fingers melded together. “This is a bed and breakfast. I’d love to spend the night with you here, even if that means just watching old horror classics and talking like we did in Atlanta.”

His words brought a wave over you that you managed to wade through. It was different. While you hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, you were still used to a different pressure with guys pre Dean. He wasn’t like the others, and that was clear.

You nodded just as Dean brought your hands to his lips and left a soft kiss. “Good,” he gently dropped your hands and turned to open the driver's side door. You scooted back over to the passenger door and opened it to step into the cool Kansas air. Dean waited just in front of the Impala for you and smiled as you approached, with a reach for your hand.

Being with Dean felt easy; freeing, almost. The two of you walked through the front door of the bed and breakfast and smiled at the older woman behind the counter.

“Oh, hello!” She beamed. “Checking in?”

“Wanted to see if you had a room, by chance,” Dean fished for his wallet out of his back pocket and you took in the surroundings. This place was charming. It was an older building, but had modern updates. Dean paid for the room and the woman handed over the key.

“Check out is at 11am, but we can make an exception for later, if needed,” somehow you thought you saw a wink in there. Jesus, all the women love him, the thought played through your mind as you smirked with a shake of your head. Maybe it wasn’t just you who had a magnetic pull to the mysterious Dean Winchester.

“No problem, thank you so much,” Dean smiled as he took the key and turned towards the stairs with you. The woman watched as you ascended, probably wondering where your luggage was, which made your cheeks warm again.

“I forgot, I have to be at the airport in the morning. I’ll have to leave by four if I want to make it,” you whispered to Dean as you approached the door with the number 7 on it.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t think about that,” Dean hesitated for a moment. “It’s only about 9 now. You wanna stay, or head back? I don’t mind either way.” He gave you another out, just in case (which you appreciated).

“No, no,” you shook your head and took the key from him. “I’ll be fine. Who needs sleep anyway?” You slipped the key into the doorknob and turned.

The door opened to a quaint room—light gray walls with white molding. There was a king-sized bed up against a wall facing a flat screen television. Another door opened up into a beautiful bathroom with white marble tiling and a glass shower with a small vanity.

“This is so nice,” you muttered as you took in the room. It felt elegant and like something you wouldn’t find in Lebanon, Kansas.

“It really is,” Dean took in the surroundings, as well. “I’ve always heard good things.” He moved to pull his leather jacket off to reveal a dark green t-shirt.

Your eyes traveled down his torso—the way it formed to fit every muscle in his chest, and the way it clung to his biceps. You’d be a remiss if you didn’t acknowledge the way it took your breath away.

“So, what’ll it be? Horror movie? Comedy? I’ll even suck up a chick-flick if that’s what you’re feelin’,” he had reached for the remote but his eyes were on you; you could feel it even before you turned to see it for yourself.

This is crazy, you barely know the man. But you felt like you did. You knew of the things he had been through; the pain and trauma. You knew he had kind eyes–sometimes a little mischievous as they practically undressed you in the diner.

“Dean?” Your eyes watched him closely as you stepped towards him. He seemed hesitant, maybe. A little unsure of what your intentions were.

“Hmm?” He hummed back and you noticed he rocked on his heels for a second.

“Kiss me?” It came out as a question, though you had hoped it’d be a clear statement.

His eyes darted from your gaze to your lips, then back once more. And then his lips were on yours again, this time more intense than the last. It felt as though he had given you every opportunity to change your mind, and upon realizing you hadn’t, he kissed you in a way you truly felt you had never been kissed before.

You took the lead this time and let your tongue move across his bottom lip. Almost instantly, his mouth opened and allowed you in. Tangled breaths mixed between you as Dean moved backward with his hands pulling your hips until the backs of his legs hit the bed.

There was a brief separation as your eyes moved between one another, and then just as quickly, Dean pulled the hem of his shirt up until it was over his head. That was where you froze—your eyes traced from his freckled shoulders, down his chest, to his abs and landed where his jeans were buttoned.

“You okay, sweetheart?” There was a teasing tone to his voice as you caught his eyes once more.

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips quickly, and you managed a nod. “You are…” words failed you as you tried not to stare. There was an interesting tattoo on his chest–it almost looked like a sun, but you weren’t sure. Your eyes were glazed over with need.

“Your turn,” his words sent a shiver from the top of your spine to the tips of your toes. Your teeth instinctively found the inside of your bottom lip again.

Dean’s fingers were quick to settle below your chin, his thumb gently pulled down below your lip to release it.

“It makes me crazy when you do that,” his voice was so low and gruff. He pulled your blazer down off of your shoulders until it fell to the carpeted ground below your feet. Your fingertips found the hem of your blouse and pulled it over your head. It wasn't until then that you realized how hard you were breathing, as the tops of your breasts rose and fell.

Just as insecurities about your body began to drift back into your brain, you pushed forward to connect your lips to his. He faltered only for a second before he welcomed the kiss, his fingertips working quickly on the clasp of your bra behind your back.

The cool air nipped at spots on your skin that had been covered before. Dean pulled away for a moment to take it all in.

“God, you’re beautiful,” his chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath he took.

With the palms of your hands, you pressed against his chest so he fell back on the bed. He leaned back on his elbows with a grin across his face and you swore you could see a spark in his eyes.

“C’mere,” he urged, and you knew he didn’t have to tell you twice. You moved so you were on top of him, planting kisses on his lips, his cheek, his neck. You felt the slight swell of your lips as it scratched upon the rough stubble on his jaw line.

Dean wasted no time in rolling so you were underneath him, which elicited a small giggle from you.

His fingertips traced from your cheek, down your neck, to your collarbone. Then the top of your breast, until his thumb was strategically placed over your nipple where he rubbed until it sprouted into an even harder bud than it already was.

“Dean,” it came as a hiss. Your eyes had closed so tightly, you couldn’t even see the warm yellow glow from the table lamp. The soft cotton sheets pooled between your fingertips as you clutched for some stability.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart,” his lips replaced his thumb and you thought you might explode. His hand moved down your stomach, cradling your side smoothly as he continued his path until he reached the waistband of your pants. Seemingly expertly, he maneuvered his fingers until you felt the pop of the metal button being released.

When his hands urged your hips upward, you complied. You lifted your hips so he could shimmy the pants off of your hips until they collected near your ankles. One kick was all it took to send them to the carpeted floor.

Dean kneeled up on his knees as he undid his jeans painfully slowly, you felt. Patience wasn’t in the cards for you, so you sat up and moved your hands over his to undo them quicker. You didn’t miss the smirk across his face or the way his eyes bore into you as you worked.

Before he discarded his jeans, he reached into the back pocket for his wallet and retrieved a square foil packet.

Still on his knees, Dean eyed your burgundy panties and traced the small trail of wetness he found there with his thumb, causing you to moan out again as you tried to writhe against his hand.

“You’re already so ready for me, sweetheart,” he crooned just as he reached up to the elastic waistband and gave another tug.

There was no more room for insecurities; you were already too far gone. As Dean slid the panties down your legs, you felt the length of him against your knee.

“You seem pretty turned on yourself, Mr. Winchester,” you attempted your best flirtation back.

“Oh, and then some, Atlanta,” he breathed as his fingers found your folds and smoothed over them. The back of your head dug into the mattress as his fingers worked you over.

A fire burned deep in the pit of your belly, and the only person who could extinguish it was Dean Winchester, you were sure of it.

He slipped his index finger in and simultaneously continued circling your clit. Your fingers released the death grip on the sheets and tangled in his short hair. With the other hand, you traveled down Dean’s chest until you found what you were looking for. You moved your hand along his hardened cock under the waistband of his boxers, allowing your thumb to smooth over the tip.

“Jesus,” he murmured as you moved, his fingers matching rhythm with your hand.

Dean positioned himself over you again, his lips taking yours in a hasty kiss. The feeling of him pressing in all of the right places, paired with his lips on yours and the feeling of him in your hand, you thought you may combust.

“More,” was all you could muster out between the trail of his lips, but it seemed like he didn’t have to be told more than once, either.

He leaned back and tore into the foil packet with his teeth before removing the condom and rolling it onto his cock.

Goosebumps trailed your skin as you watched, and you couldn’t help but take your bottom lip captive between your teeth once more.

“What’d I tell you about that lip?” Dean moved over you once more as he settled between your legs and pulled your lip down with his thumb. Then, he dropped the volume but his voice rasped, “That lip drives me crazy.”

Your eyes met and just before he entered you, you quipped back. “Show me.”

It was 3:44 when Dean tilted his head to glance at the neon green numbers on the nightstand. You felt his groan rumble through his chest where your head was planted as you traced his freckles.

He dropped a quick kiss to your hairline. “We gotta get you back to your car, sweetheart. You have a flight to catch in a few hours.”

Your groan matched his as you buried your head in his chest, hoping that maybe if you did, you could stay there forever. “I don’t wanna.”

That elicited a chuckle from him. “Trust me, if we could stay like this, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean had extinguished that fire in your belly, but then relit it. And extinguished it again…and then once more in the shower. “I know, I know,” you grumbled as Dean reluctantly pulled away and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Back to reality,” he chirped with a quick smack to your ass.

“Hey!” You laughed as you turned towards him, your breasts exposed.

“Goddamn, woman. You gotta get dressed before you miss your flight,” he turned away to gather his clothes.

The Impala roared to life as Dean drove you back to your car parked at the restaurant. You sat similarly to how you did on the way to the bed and breakfast—pressed against his side, his fingers interlocked with yours tracing small patterns upon the top of your hand.

It only took a few minutes to get back to where your rental car was parked at Jiffy Burger. It was almost four o’clock in the morning and your body was tired, but your adrenaline was still pumping. You didn’t want the night to end.

Dean cut the engine as a sigh passed through his lips. “I hate how late it is and how far you have to go. You sure you don’t want me to follow you back to Salina?”

“I’m sure, Dean. It’s late, or early I guess, but I’ll be fine. Tonight was well worth it. Besides, I’ll just sleep on the plane,” your lips found his cheek for a quick kiss.

He groaned. “I hate that you’re leaving.” He sounded genuine, and you had to admit you felt the same.

“I know, but it gives us something to look forward to. For next time,” your teeth found the inside of your lip again, but Dean caught it with his thumb quickly this time.

“Guess I’m gonna have to get comfortable flying, huh?” He smirked before he pulled you close for a kiss.

As you both got out of the Impala, you walked slowly to your rental where he pulled you in once more. It was a kiss you wouldn’t forget, that was certain.

“Might as well sign up for a frequent flier program now,” you whispered with your eyes still closed.

“Does that get me an invite to the Mile High club, too?” He teased, a laugh escaped him as you poked his side.

“Only if I’m flying with you,” you half-teased back as you reached back to open the driver’s side door.

“I’ll fly every goddamn day if that’s what’s waiting for me,” he wiggled his eyebrows as you lowered the window and he leaned through on his forearms.

“Bye, Dean,” it came out in a breath as you pressed your lips to his once more.

“Bye, sweetheart. Call me when you get there,” it wasn’t a question.

“It’ll be like, six AM. You should be sleeping by then,” you said as you fastened your seatbelt.

“I won’t be able to sleep, trust me,” his lips pulled up in a small smile before he kissed you once more. He ran his hand down the side of your face and pulled away. “See you soon, Atlanta.”

“You better,” you called back as you took one last look at him before you put the car in drive.

“Drive safe,” you heard him call out, just as you eased on the gas.

The two hour drive hadn’t been as brutal as you expected. There wasn’t any traffic, and Dean ended up calling you thirty minutes in, just to check in.

He kept your mind alert by talking about anything and everything. What your family was like, if you had any siblings. You told him that you were an only child, but you felt like you had a sister in your best friend, Jen. He told you about his brother, and the pranks they’d pull on each other.

Before you knew it, you were already back in your hotel parking lot.

“I’m here, Dean,” you murmured as you disconnected your phone from Bluetooth and pulled the device to your ear.

“Good,” his voice was gruff—he could fib all he wanted, but you knew he was exhausted. “Thanks for coming all this way to see me. I really, really enjoyed tonight.”

Your cheeks rounded as you couldn’t fight the smile that came from his words. “Me too, Dean. Get some sleep. I’ll text you when I land.”

“Night, sweetheart,” and with that, you both hung up.

You knew Jen would be waking up right about now, so as you gathered your purse and climbed out of the car, you sent her a quick text.

You’ll never guess where I’ve been all night…

You fished out your hotel key and headed for the lobby. Just before you got on the elevator, your cell buzzed.

Jen All night?! Bitch, it’s 6am. Have you not slept?!

Before you could even type back, another came through.

Jen NO YOU DID NOT. Mysterious Dean?! Airplane man?? Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend? Tell me you at least got his last name before you did the deed.

The elevator dinged as you reached your floor. You typed back as you walked the short distance to your room.

Yes ma’am, I did. He’s amazing. He’s kind and funny and sexy and god, it had been way too long. I’m proud of myself ;)

As your door clicked open, you sighed. You’d have to leave shortly for the airport, but you had a few minutes to spare.

Jen Well good, I’m happy for you. But you should still Google him…just in case. You never know these days.

You didn’t feel like you needed to Google Dean, but at the same time, there was a sense of yearning to know all about him (and who didn’t have an online footprint?).

As you picked at your cuticle, you sat down in front of your laptop and opened up Chrome.

“Dean Winchester”, you typed and hit enter.

And as the page loaded, you did a double take. Then, a triple take.

Your heart plummeted into your stomach and you felt like you might actually vomit. There were so many headlines, but the top one was enough, paired with a mugshot that matched his face: Suspected Murderer, Dean Winchester, Found Deceased

A/N: SURPRISE! I've been bit by the writing bug and I couldn't help but post this early. Mostly because after this chapter, I don't feel right making you wait a week to see what happens next. Sorrrry for the cliffhanger. <3

Chapter 6 will be posted on Thursday!

Chapter 6 Preview:

Whiplash. It was the only way you knew how to describe going from having, what you would describe as the best night of your life, to spiraling down to the worst feeling you had ever felt.

Jen was the only person you knew to call—she knew you and knew how boring your life was (and how long it had been since you had even looked at a man, let alone sleep with one).

“This feels really, really dangerous,” you could tell by her tone that she really didn’t know what to say.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you wanted to cry but you couldn’t even get tears to fall. You had never been in shock before, but you assumed it might feel something like this. “What do I do? Call one of those police departments? The FBI? …Homeland Security?” The thoughts were racing.

“Take a breath,” you heard her take one at the same time, and you followed suit. “He didn’t hurt you, right? Force you to sleep with him?”

“God, no,” you plopped down on the uncomfortable mattress and rubbed your temple. “I practically threw myself at him. It was…” your mouth couldn’t say what you felt. It had been amazing, ‘best night of your life’ material. But you couldn’t say that now. Not after what you had read.

“Maybe the articles are wrong? Maybe there’s more to it than what you’re reading. Oh! Maybe he’s in the witness protection program?” She tried to rationalize. But you had already done that before you called her.

“He wouldn’t have used his old name, Jen,” your words were so soft, you weren’t sure if she heard them.

“Shit, you’re right,” she took a sip of her coffee. “Listen. Just go to the airport, block his number and fly home. We will work through this together. Don’t call anyone yet. This sounds like something you don’t want to get mixed up in, babe.”

You nodded at her words and felt the first wrench of emotion in the back of your throat. “I’m worried I already have.”

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darlingshane · 1 year

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mountain lion

Matt Rayburn x F!Reader

Summary: After a bad day at work, you're winding down in bed when you get an unexpected visit.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Fluff, Smut, Making Out, Vaginal Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Food, Pet Names.

Word Count: 1,5k

A/N: A little thing I wrote for✨BEARDTHAL BASH✨

— Read below or at AO3.

Wrapped in the comfort of your cozy blanket in bed with the lights off, curtains drawn; the blue light of your phone illuminates your face while you mindlessly scroll through your usual apps to erase the awful day you've had at work from your mind.

It's almost midnight when a strange thud coming from the living room makes you jolt from your resting position. As you sit up, you put your phone down, keenly hearing the sharp whistling of the wind as if it was sneaking through a small crack of a window. It’s followed by the distinctive sound of muffled steps over a rug, and another cracking sound that makes your heart pound faster.

Wondering if you’d left a window open earlier, you quietly stand up and slide the door of your closet to collect a baseball bat, just in case. Wielding the bat with both hands, you use your foot to carefully open the door to your room. There's a barely audible screeching from the hinges that make you stop in your tracks for a moment before stepping into the hallway.

As the anxious throbbing of your pulse rises to your throat, you don't turn on the light but use the dim lights of the porch that glare through the front windows to guide you toward the living room. Mustering as much courage as you can and measuring your steps along the hallway, when you reach the end of it, you find a slouched, bulky shadow behind the couch.

Tightening your grip around your weapon, you swallow and get ready to swing hard. As you throw the bat back, the shadow turns its face to the side, and at the very last second you realize that it’s your boyfriend squatting down, his hands busy with something you can’t see on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, Matt! What the hell are you doing there?” you chide, lowering the bat.

“Giving you a heart attack, apparently. Sorry, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were a mountain lion or something. I almost club you to death. Did you use the window to break in?” You go around him, put the bat down, turn on the light, and shut the ineffective window’s latch.

“Forgot my keys.”

“Then knock or text like a normal person. Don’t use a window as an entryway.” You glance down now that you can see better, and find that he’s untying his boots and taking them off.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Baby. I wanted to surprise you, but…” he trails off, standing up in his funny socks with monkeys. “You should fix that latch, by the way. It’s dangerous to leave it like that.”

“Yeah, tell that to the knucklehead of my boyfriend,” you scoff under a heavy breath. “I’ve been meaning to fix it, but I didn’t have time today. What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t you have work tonight?”

“Shift change. Thought you could use a little pick-me-up,” his hands land on your hips, and through the thin fabric of your shirt you capture the cold of his palms as he pulls you closer. His lips, just as cold, print a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Oh, I need a big pick-me-up, alright.”

“Well, you’re in luck, cause this big mountain lion brought you something,” Matt extends his hand to the couch and picks up a box filled with donuts from your favorite bakery. “But if that’s not enough… I do have another big pick-me-up.”

“Don’t you mean big prick-me-up?”

“See? You’re feeling better already now that I'm here.”

“Yeah, after I almost killed you.”

“C'mere, Sugarbutt,” he sits on the couch, leaves the box open on the coffee table, and pulls you down onto his lap.

Draping your bare legs sideways over his thighs, you lick your lips and reach to pick a mouth-watering chocolate donut covered in sprinkles from the box.

One of his palms glides up your thigh, making your skin rise into goosebumps as you take your first bite. Then you hold the donut up to his mouth and Matt takes a big chunk of it, licking your fingers in the process.

You burst into laughter, seeing how some of those rainbow sprinkles stick to his beard.

“What?”

“Nothing. You look adorable,” you keep chuckling, picking them one by one from his hairs.

“I love seeing you laugh like that,” he squeezes your hip delicately. “I was worried after our little conversation earlier… Do you wanna talk more about it?”

Your expression changes with a small shake of your head, resigned, “there's no point. I'm just glad you're here. I've missed you.”

“Missed you too, Baby.”

With a tender smile on his face, teeth pressed on his bottom lip, Matt watches you finish your snack with delight. Soon after, he seals your lips and claims the sweet aftertaste of your kiss. The hairs of his beard are coarse around your mouth as his tongue slots between your teeth. The tip of his tongue gently dances with yours, slowly wishing your troubles away, swirl after swirl. Matt has that power. Just being around him makes you feel ten times better. And on days like this, you're beyond grateful that he's part of your life.

Your craving fully switches from sweet to spicy as your mouth demands more of him. You shift on his lap and straddle his hips, using the advantage of that position to rub yourself against him.

Grabbing your ass, his fingers are already warm when they sink into your skin as you earn a good swelling behind his jeans, and a deep hum of his throat that tastes awfully divine in the void for your mouth.

“I'm ready for my big pick-me-up,” you gasp for air after pulling away from his lips. “Bedroom.”

Your boyfriend doesn't think twice before lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you back to the warmth nest of your bed.

He quickly rids himself of his clothes as you remove your panties and t-shirt and slip with him underneath the covers.

Laying on your side, facing each other, your mouths automatically are drawn together again, like opposite magnetic poles. His arms cocoon your body, keeping your skin flushed and warm against his chest. The light feather touch of his fingertips on your back makes you shudder. A nice buzz takes over your body as one of his hands slides between your legs. He caresses your mound using his whole palm for a long moment before letting his fingers focus on your clit. He collects the arousal pooling in your folds, using that slickness to trace circles around that hard little bud.

You can't help but hum in delight at his wonderful touch.

Enjoying yourself, in return, you wrap your hand around his length and pump leisurely, matching the eager excitement coming ablaze in your core. The higher he takes you, the more oomph you put into your hand.

When his fingers are fully coated in your juices, two of them invite themselves into your opening.

“Damn, sweetheart. You're fucking soaked,” Matt purrs and with a twirl of your tongue you lick-clean those dirty words from his luscious lips, as your grip tightens around his firm shaft.

In and out, he explores the tenderness of your walls for a minute, driving you slowly out of your mind, while your hand feasts on the more-than-generous size of his erection.

“Matt,” you sigh and moan as the temperature rises beneath the sheets.

“I got you, sweetheart,” his fingers pull away and lift your leg, tucking it over his hips, so he can feel that heat around his cock. You let him go at the same time, hug his torso instead, as he guides himself inside you.

Laced around the other in the most intricate but comfortable knot, you lose track of where your limbs start and where his end. Matt is all kisses and nibbles and fingers and beard scratches all around your skin as his hips roll slow, basking in the slickness and pressure of your opening.

You mark your teeth on the flesh of his shoulder and groan as your core reaches the surface of that maddening, crucial point. All your muscles seize up at the threat of orgasm when his thrusting comes sharper and quicker. You can feel the throb of his hard-rock erection, desperate for a release.

One of his hands clutches the curve of your ass, keeping your hips in place, so he can tip you over that sweet edge in that final effort. You can't hear yourself think, or have any thought at all, over his grunts and the muffle sounds of his skin slapping against yours over and over. Chasing that thrill, you give yourself complete to your body's urgent need for orgasm. The next second, a wild wave of pleasure seeps through every pore of your body, touching every nerve, making your legs tremble as Matt pours his seed in the depths of you at the same time.

You both stay still, woven in that position, as your breathing recovers.

One of his hands finds your face, frames your chin when his strength returns. “I love you, baby,” he whispers at the corner of your mouth before capturing your kiss oh so deliciously slow, it makes your heart swell ten times its size.

“Love you too, mountain lion.”

#matt rayburn x reader #jon bernthal #matt rayburn #wind river #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #fanfiction #fluff #smut #darlingwrites #beardthalbash

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peakyltd · 6 months

Text

New Endings - Part 7

A/N: We're at part 7 already, who would've thought that? Things are changing in this chapter, it's for you to find out if it's good or bad 👀As usual I want to thank every single one of you for reading and reblogging, it means a lot!

Warnings: Swearing, verbally fighting, mentions of weapons, mentions of injuries.

Words: 4.2K

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART

An orange glow illuminated the small living room of the old Watery Lane home. The flames in the fireplace clawed at the just added logs, trying to withdraw the energy to fuel the heat source. John was sat on the sofa, the warmth and the after effects of the multiple whiskeys he drunk had made him fall into a slumber after he had lit the fireplace.

The wooden stairs were creaking while (Y/N) carefully made her way downstairs, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, covering her nightgown. She was finally able to warm up after walking around the whole day in her soaked clothes. John offered to stay while she took a quick bath. The water welcomed her, embracing her body into a warm hug she desperately needed. It was not until much later, that she realized John was still waiting for her and she really needed to get out.

As she turned around the corner she saw the flames reflecting shadows on the wall. The younger Shelby was slumped down on the sofa, his cap had fallen on the floor while his body was in a state of deep rest. A shaky sigh escaped her lips while she held the gun in her hand, carefully covered with the blanket.

It could be easier like this. Quick and painless, he wouldn’t notice and she didn’t have to face him. He would understand… right? She gulped as she made her way in front him and took another look at his face. He seemed so peaceful, clueless of what his future would hold while she kept his fate in her hands.

She thought about the words he told her not too long ago. About his wife, his kids, the big grin on his face.

They would never forgive her.

But who said it was her? Nobody would expect her here, she left after all. Her thoughts wandered to David and the threats he made. The gun pressed against her head, the bullets engraved with the Shelby names. He said it, John had to be first, it would be easy.

She stood there, frozen while she felt her chest growing tight, making it hard to breath.

Memories of her past with the Shelby’s replaced the ones that were haunting. The good times and happy memories, remembering her of how much each and every family member had made an impact on her life.

This wasn’t her, there was no way she would be able to pull the trigger.

A quiet sob left her mouth as she felt hot tears running down her face. She quickly tucked the gun under her gown as she saw John stir at the sudden sound she made. She wiped her tears and cleared her throat before gently grabbing John’s shoulder and shaking him softly. “John?” She called out his name. “John, wake up.”

A soft groan left his mouth as he stretched his limbs, finding the woman he had been waiting for in front of him. “Took you long enough, eh?” He slurred, a soft chuckle left his mouth. “Yes, I’m sorry. I forgot the time.” She apologized while he sat up straight, fetching his cap from the floor. “Is alright.” He answered while he got up. “I hung your coat there, so it could dry.” He pointed at the chair close to the fireplace her coat hanging neatly over the back. She felt the tears prick in her eyes by his thoughtful gesture.

“Thank you so much, I appreciate it.” She softly thanked him while she quickly blinked to chase her tears away. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, yeah?” He put the cap back on his head and walked over to the dinner table to get his coat. “Oh and (Y/N)?” He put his coat on before turning to face her.

“Yeah?” She answered carefully, afraid of what he was going to say next. “Don’t go back to him. We’ll figure something out. You don’t deserve that.” He said, pointing out the bruises on her face. She just nodded, feeling too guilty to speak up. “See you then.” He called out before leaving to house. “Bye.” Her soft voice was cut off by the wooden door falling into it’s lock.

The feeling of the build up anxiety and stress overwhelmed her once he left. She took the gun from her gown and put it on the cabinet between the pictures and decorations. Her hands hid her face once she took her place on the sofa as she gave in to release of her emotions.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and sobs filled the room. She gasped between cries, barely able to catch the breath needed for the next, question after question ran trough her head. Was she really going to do it? Did she want it as much as David wanted it? What if he finds out? What if David finds out? Was her life worth more than John’s? What did she had to do now?

The fire had died down in the meantime, taking it’s warmth with it. It could’ve been minutes or hours but the lack of rest, the stress and the release of it all made her more and more aware of her worn out body and mind, accepting that she needed to give it the break that was so desperately needed. Her exhausted legs dragged her up on the stairs to the reach the bed where sleep quickly catched up on her.

The chirping of birds filled the small bedroom, the little animals let out their happy sounding melodies that were matching the change of weather. Dark clouds and rain had made room for a clear blue sky and softly glowing sun.

Bed sheets rustled as she slowly woke up from dull sounds coming from downstairs. Her body tensed until the moment John’s words from the night before wandered trough her head. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, yeah?” She was at Watery Lane, not at home. She was safe. A relieved sigh fell of her lips before she got up.

Once she had changed, she took her time to brush her hair while she listened to noise that were coming from the streets. The thin windows didn’t block much of it but she didn’t mind as it reminded her of the many days these sounds had filled her room. Back then she envied them, plans of moving away growing day by day but once she had left these streets she realized she left a part of herself.

While she finished, she took one more look in the dusty mirror. Her tired eyes were red and sore, dark circles had formed underneath them from the lack of rest. The swelling on the side of her wasn’t as bad anymore but the bruise seemed darker than the day before. Hopefully it would take just a few more days for it to disappear.

Her hand held onto the railing as she walked down the stairs, ready to thank John again for letting her stay and trying to forget about the moment of insanity she had the night before. “John?” She called out before she turned the corner.

She froze once she saw a different man sitting at the dining table. His eyes immediately focused on her, his gaze full of anger but besides that his face didn’t give away any sign of emotion.

“Tommy…”

Her heart dropped at the sight of the gun in front of him. Her gun. The bullets were neatly lined up next to it. Meant to be their bullets.

“Listen, I can explain…” She nervously blurted out as she came closer. If she had been only more careful. “I think this explains enough.” His low, toneless voice cut her off. “No… no it doesn’t. It’s not what it looks like.” She desperately defended herself.

“So you want to tell me that this is not a bullet with Arthur’s name on it?” He questioned fiercely while holding the bullet between his fingers. As he continued he put it down and lifted another one. “Or this one? This one does not have Polly’s name on it? It means it’s not meant for her?”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she listened to him. “I know what you’re thinking but I didn’t want this Tom, I swear.” Her voice came out desperate, not knowing how she could get herself out of this. “Then why is it here, eh?” He raised his voice, feeling the adrenaline spreading trough his body at her words. “You’ve been planning this, don’t you?”

She shook her head. “No, he forced me. He wanted me to do it becaus-“ Tommy slammed his hand on the table. “Because you’ve been working with the fucking Changretta’s. You came here for us!” His voice boomed trough the small space as he got up, pointing at her. “You knew, you fucking knew.”

A few tears escaped, chasing each other down her cheeks. “I did not. David lured me into it.” Her body grew tense, afraid of the unknown things that would happen after this. “He promised me a house and a happy life away from London once he finished business, that’s why I came here. I didn’t know until much later it was only a bait to get to you.” She softly sobbed. “I had no choice.”

The feeling of betrayal fueled Tommy’s anger even more while Polly’s words repeated in his head. “She’s in on it too, she’s the one that knows everything about you after all.” Not only (Y/N) betrayed him, he betrayed himself. How could he so easily trust her again after she had been out of his life for so long.

But how could he not, it was (Y/N) after all.

“When.” He spat, his eyes narrowing at her. “He told me the day I saw you for the first time in years at the hotel.” She confessed softly while she looked down at her hands. He kept his eyes on her, his gaze lingering a little longer on her bruised face.

“After you helped me, I-I came across him again when I went with Arthur to the market. He threatened me to hurt everyone I love if I didn’t kill you.” Her teary eyes held his cold blue ones, rage beat the pity and took over as she made another confession. “But I can’t and I would never because I-I…” She stopped herself, the pressure of his intimidating gaze becoming too much.

His thoughts brought him back to the night she had spend at Arrow House, where things seemed going to right way until she suddenly announced that she was going back to him. "Were you planning on doing it in my own house?" He snarled, her eyes widening at his question. "What? No, absolutely not." She denied. "I wasn't planning anything, I swear Tommy."

"But you went back." He stated angrily. "To protect you." A deep shaky sigh escaped her lips. "But when I went back to David he threatened to kill me while he put his gun against my head. He wanted me to go after everyone else..." Her eyes fell on the ammunition on the table. "He wanted me to start with John and end with…” Her eyes found his again. "You."

He kept quiet for a moment as he looked at her, not recognizing anything anymore from the woman in front of him. Once bold and confident, now looking around like danger would could come out of any corner.

"Did you trick John into bringing you here?" She shook her head again at his question. "I wanted to see if the Garrison was still open but he was closing it, he offered it himself. It was coincidence." She explained as she felt herself become smaller and smaller in his presence. "Coincidence." He repeated bitterly, not believing a word she was saying. "Yes." Her voice sounded determined but came out as a whisper.

"He was an easy target, fucking kaylied when he left the pub." Tommy stepped closer. "Told me he even fell asleep, must've been a great moment to take advantage of that." He stared her down while she took a step back. "What did you do?"

She kept quiet.

"That fucking gun didn't put itself on the cabinet, eh?" Her trembling hands held onto each other as she took another step back, her back hitting the wall. "Did you try to do it?" Tommy's voice tinged with menace made her quiver. When he got no answer he repeated himself louder. "Did you?"

Her guilty eyes stared right into his fierce ones while she kept quiet, the betrayal she had committed giving her no words to speak out but giving him everything he needed to know. She watched him in silence as he shook his head angrily. "For fucks sake!"

The loud clattering sound of metal hitting the floor made her squeeze her eyes shut for a moment while he wiped everything from the table with his arm. He ran both his hand over his face as he came to a realization of what had just happened.

"I'm not a murderer."

Her tight and cracking voice made him turn around. "What did you say?" He barked at her. "I'm not a murderer." She repeated, tears had not stopped streaming down her already wettened cheeks. "I would never hurt him or anyone else."

"You fucking tried (Y/N)! I bet you pointed that fucking gun!" His voice boomed trough the house. "I did not." She cried. "I held it but it was a moment of panic. I could never and I-I didn't want to."

"I don't want to hear it. Don't even try to make up your shit excuses! I want you out, go fucking back to him and tell him that we'll be coming for them. Every single one of them, even you." He spat, the venom dripping from his words while he took in her frame. She swallowed harshly at his words.

"Then do it now." The words fell easily from her lips.

"I'd rather have you pull the trigger on me than having to wait for my fate when I go back."

His eyes ran over her face, her words stopping him from continuing his rage. Her eyes showed him the desperation and fear that had been a consistent factor within in her for months. "Just make it quick." She begged softly, accepting that this would be her best option, knowing that if she went back to David it would be pure torture.

Her request made his heart drop, never expecting to hear her say that. He gulped and shook his head. "Leave, (Y/N)." His voice was calmer and softer than before. "I-."

"You have to." He finished before turning his back to her, grabbing his coat and putting his cap on his head. "I'm so sorry." The soft apology made him turn his head, her tear stained, bruised face showed that she meant it. "For everything."

He nodded his head slightly before he turned around. "Me too."

Her fingers slid over the locks of her suitcase once she had closed it. The cold feeling of them against her skin grounded her for a moment before she got up from the bed.

She made her way down the creaking stairs once more, when she entered the small living room to fetch her coat, she was met with the Shelby matriarch. Her brown eyes giving her a disapproving look. “I was right all along although I never expected this from you.” Polly sneered.

“I know.” She simply stated, too tired to explain it once more. “Why didn’t you tell the truth?” She wondered as she lit a cigarette. “To avoid a situation like this, I guess.” She sighed as she walked past her to get her coat that was still hanging in front of the fireplace. “I don’t know what Tommy told you but I swear that I didn’t want to hurt any of you.”

“Tommy didn’t tell me anything, I heard everything.” Polly answered before she put the cigarette to her lips. (Y/N) turned around to face her. “And so did John and Arthur.” She added after she let the smoke escape from her mouth. “What do you mean?”

Polly pointed at the doors that led to the betting shop. “We came here after John told us that he’d let you stay here but Thomas beat us to it.” She explained. “We wanted to talk, offer you help but that was until he found a weapon.”

The younger woman nodded slowly in response, her eyes focused on the floor, unable to make eye contact. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll leave like he asked me to.”

She draped the coat over her shoulders before switching her suitcase to her other hand. “The thing is that I do worry.” Polly spoke up. “You’re not angry at me?” (Y/N) looked up, a look of discomfort on her face.

“Oh, I am. I knew there was something with you the moment you set a foot in this house.” Her dark brown eyes staring right at her. “But like I said, I heard everything. Including the things you said.”

The grip of her hands on the handles of her suitcase tightened. “We might be able to help you.” The older woman offered. "But you have to do something for us first."

She shook her head. “Tommy wouldn’t accept it. It’s better if I leave.”

“And go where?” Polly asked, the question leaving her with a loss at words. “Well?” (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t know.”

"We'll help you, if you help us. But if this turns out to be one of your games, I'll come for you myself." Polly warned. “So we got a deal?”

She held Polly’s gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

"It's not going to happen Pol. We're not doing it." Tommy said sternly as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Oh we are doing it." She shot back. "She's can easily infiltrate their plans without being suspicious and give us everything we need to be a step ahead of them."

The Shelby's had gathered into Tommy's home office at request of Polly who shared her plans with her nephews and niece.

"Who says she's not lying again, eh? She might put up a whole facade to do the exact opposite and work against us." He refuted bitterly. "If she dares to betray us again, I promised her that I'd come after her myself." She answered. "But I don't think she would. Not after I heard the things she said."

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed while he looked at her with a withering stare. "Do you hear yourself talking?" He pointed his burning cigarette towards his aunt. "You told me how she was fucking bad news, that we should stay away and now it turned out you were right, you want to fucking help her?!" He fumed at her.

"Don't you dare to raise your bloody voice at me like that." Polly yelled back. "Have you seen the state of her? Did you listen to what she said? The woman practically begged you to end it so she didn't have to go back home."

Tommy shook his head. "Lies Pol, all damn lies." Polly slammed her hand on his wooden desk. "Those bruises are not lies, you've seen them yourself!"

The sudden burst out of Polly's anger made everyone in the room remain silent.

"I'm out." John broke the silence, bringing Tommy back from his thoughts. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust her knowing that if she didn't change her mind, I'd be fuckin' dead."

Tommy nodded while he took another drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out of his nose, redirecting his attention back to Polly. "Hope you didn't forget about that."

She narrowed her eyes, her jaw tensing. "Don't act like I'm fucking stupid Thomas!" She stood up as she yelled at him. "If any of you have a better plan then I want to hear it now." She hissed as she looked around the office, which stayed awfully quiet.

"I think we should do it." Ada began. "I'm not too sure about (Y/N) but I trust Pol."

"Ada, are you fuckin' mental?!" John bellowed as he stood up angrily, the build up tension coming to an outburst. "We're not going to stage my death just because Tommy fucked up once again!" He took his coat and walked towards to the door to leave the office. "John!" Tommy's roared out his brother's name. "Come back here, now!"

The younger Shelby turned around, his fists clenched by his side. "It's all about you again! If you didn't bring her back into your fuckin' life, ours would've been great!" He shouted back at his brother who stood up from his chair, one hand leaning on his desk while the other pointed at John. "You brought her there last evening, remember?!" He thundered. "Because she looked like a fuckin' mess, you know who's fault that is? It's all yours!"

"John c'mon." Arthur walked over to him. "Calm down a bit, eh John boy?" He put his hand on his shoulder to calm him but it only made it worse. "Fuck off!" He shrugged his hand off and set a step closer. "You rather have my own fuckin' family believe that I'm dead so she can safely gather the information all you selfish bastards want. Don't you think about my wife and kids, eh? Esme is going to be devastated!"

"Esme will be bloody devastated if you really end up six feet under and you won't come back!" Tommy's answered harshly.

"What made you change your mind, eh? Going from we're not doing it Pol to agreeing with her within a minute. Fuckin' pillock!" John kicked hard against the wooden cabinet, causing multiple photoframes to shatter down on the floor.

"Your damn wife and kids will understand, now shut the fuck up and sit back down!" Tommy pointed at the chair John was sitting in before as he gave him a cold glare.

"They will understand that you made me pretend that I'm dead?! You think they'll happily welcome me back when they find out it's not true?!" He ran his hand roughly trough his hair while fire blazed trough his eyes. "This proves again what kind of shit brother you are. Just as much as you are a shit husband and father. No wonder your wife got sh-"

"ENOUGH!" Polly's voice roared, ending the fight between both of them. Arthur was stood in front of John who's breath was growing thin and ragged while he stood ready to put up a fight.

"I fucking dare you to repeat that again." Tommy's low voice spoke up.

"No wonder your wi-" John started but got cut off by Arthur. "Enough John! Enough." He warned as he glared at him. "We're going to continue Pol's plan."

"You bloody bastard!" John's rage continued as he glared at Arthur. "It's the best thing we can do, John." Ada added. "I know it's going to be hard for you and the family but if we don't do it, things will end up much worse." Arthur nodded. "Ada's right brother."

He shook his head as he glared at both of them "Fuckin' mental, each and everyone of you." He clenched his jaw. "Especially you." He shifted his gaze to Tommy. "If this backfires, I'm going to be the first one who finds her and you'll fuckin' regret it." He turned around and left the office, slamming the door harshly behind him.

A cold gush of wind crawled over the floor when Polly entered the house, finding (Y/N) at the kitchen table. "How did it go?" She asked the older woman hopefully before getting up to get her a cup of tea. Polly hung her coat over the chair before she sat down.

"We're doing it."

A soft gasp fell from (Y/N)'s lips. "Really?" She asked softly as she put the cup on the table in front of her before sitting back down. "Really." She confirmed. "Oh god." She stared down at her own cup in front of her, the tension making the muscles in her body stiffen. "But you have a lot to prove to all of us."

Her eyes met Polly's brown ones. "I know." She acknowledged quietly. "Especially to Tommy and maybe even more to John." Polly added, lifting her chin slightly and looking down at her, showing her that she meant it.

"He must've been very angry with me."

"You could put it that way, yes." She nodded, downplaying his rage. The younger woman gulped at her words, knowing how John could be. "I'll do everything to show everyone of you that I'm not lying, I promise."

"I think that's a start." Polly answered as she took a sip of her tea. "And I also think it's a good start to tell them that yourself."

"What do you mean?" Her eyes widened, palms becoming sweaty. "Family meeting, tomorrow morning. And you will be there."

Taglist: @cyphah @kissforvoid @graciesbow @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee

@casa-boiardi @brummiereader @call-sign-shark @zablife @mommahwa1117

@galactict3a @daybleedsintonightfa11 @laloscumdumpster

#New Endings #New Endings part 7 #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x Y/N #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby #arthur shelby #polly gray

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2-guns-b1tch · 8 months

Text

Midnight Visitor

Rating: Explicit +18

Pairing: BTAA! Scarecrow x F!Reader

I really wanted to write something about the Scarecrow from the Audio Adventures. I love his voice and his mannerisms so much. Sorry if this a little OOC, i think i wasn't able to portray him exactly right, but I hope you like this and let me now if I forgot to mention a trigger warning.

Ao3

+18 Minors DNI!!! Fear Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, Breathplay if you squint, Vaginal Sex.

The waiting room is practically empty when you come in. The only person in there is Miss Gold and she seems to be getting ready to leave for her lunch break.

"Hello, Miss Gold," your voice breaks the silence, making her jump on her chair.

Miss Gold snaps her head in your direction, laughing softly with a hand on her chest when she realizes is actually you.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Crane. I was sou caught that you startled me."

Miss Gold has been Jonathan's secretary for almost two years. She was a little shorter than you, wearing high heels to make up for the missing inches. Her round, rosy cheeks reminded you of a peach, matching her plumper silhouette. Her clothes were often pastel and soft, which made her stand out in the dull environment of the clinic.

Although Miss Gold was sweet and helpful, she always had this nervous expression on her face, looking like she was on the verge of an anxiety attack constantly. You needed to have a conversation with Jonathan to find out what kind of pressure he was putting on the poor secretary.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to sneak in like this," you say, approaching her table. "I came to bring Jonathan's lunch. Is he here?"

Miss Gold nods, "Yes, he is, dear. Would you like me to let him know you're here?"

"You don't have to, thank you. Go enjoy your lunch, Miss Gold. I will take care of the doctor now.”

You say goodbye before she leaves and you knock on Jonathan's door, his voice on the other end signaling you to come in.

"What's so important, Miss-" Jonathan lifts his head towards you, the annoyed expression on his face being washed away when he lays his eyes on you, a small smile forming on the corners of his lips.

You can't help but shiver as you walk over to his desk. The old, dark furniture gave the room a gloomy air, the dim lights creating strange shadows. But what made you feel more uneasy were the old Argus Studios posters hanging on the walls. Basil Karlo's wicked gaze followed you wherever you went.

You try to shake off that feeling when Jonathan gets up and meets you halfway.

"What do I owe the pleasure of your honorable presence?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You pull him by his orange tie – the same one you had gifted him last Christmas – until he was at your level and you could kiss him on the cheek.

"You forgot that at home, so I thought I'd stop by to deliver it to you," you lift the lunchbox, handing it to him.

He slaps a hand on his forehead, giving a breathy chuckle as he shakes his head. "What would I do without my dear wife?"

"You would probably end up forgetting your head somewhere," you pat him at the shoulder before sitting down on the therapy couch.

Jonathan just nods, sitting next to him. He opens the package, admiring for a few seconds what you had packed before he started eating.

You watch him finish the salad in just a few bites and then stuff his mouth full of spaghetti. He licks his lips, letting out a few moans of delight between bites.

"Good to know you still like my food," you comment out Loud.

"How could I not? That was one of the main reasons I married you."

You try to look offended by giving him a weak slap on the arm, but you can't hide your smile when he starts laughing.

"You're terrible!"

"You can't go back now. Until death do us part, remember?" he shrugs as if there's nothing you can do. “Besides, we both know you’re crazy about me."

You roll your eyes at him, but your fingers troke your wedding ring, a warm sensation spreading across your chest.

"You look hungry. What would you have eaten if I hadn’t brought your lunch?"

He shrugs as he finishes chewing. "I probably would have asked Miss Gold to buy me something. Don't worry."

But it was impossible not to worry. In these last months, Jonathan left early in the morning and returned only late at night. He said he was too busy at the office and that you shouldn't wait for him awake. Even then you always woke up when he arrived home and helped him take off his clothes, only being able to talk for a few minutes until he fell asleep exhausted.

Of course you were grateful for the comfortable life his jobs provided, and you were very proud of his career as a doctor and professor, but you didn't want him to work until he killed himself.

You run your fingers through his hair, brushing a few strands off his forehead. He definitely needed a cut. On top of that, he looked even thinner and the dark circles under his eyes were getting bigger. But even after all these years together, he was still the man of your dreams. A little mean and weird, but you didn't want it any other way.

Jonathan stares at you, his gaze as warm and loving as ever. But at the same time it seemed so far away, as if he wasn't really there.

"Today they're going to reprise some classic horror movies. What do you think? You, me, a bucket of popcorn?" you propose.

"I'm sorry, dear. Not today. I have some tests that I need to go through and-" Jonathan begins to explain himself, but you interrupt him.

"It's okay, you have work to do. I get it.”

You bite your tongue, hating how angry you sound. You didn't want to take your frustrations out on him, but you missed Jonathan so much. You missed dancing with him as he hummed some silly music he made up. To watch the classic horror movies he loved so much. To simply be able to talk to him without Jonathan falling asleep in the middle of a sentence. And you missed the sex, too.

Jonathan was still affectionate, of course, but the caresses and touches boiled down to a quick kiss before he left or a hug when he arrived. Nothing more than that. Now, Jonathan left a void around the house, like a ghost walking in the halls.

He places the lunch box on the coffe table, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You're upset, I understand.”

You move your gaze to your lap. "I'm not upset. I'm just... tired. I’ve barely seen you these last few days."

He puts his hand over yours, his skin feeling cold against your own.

"I know these past months have been difficult. But I'll make it up to you," he strokes your cheek, tilting your chin to look into your eyes. "I promise."

You really want to believe him, but a part of you suspects that these are empty promises. This behavior will keep repeating itself and you will keep forgiving him, until eventually you drift further apart.

A paranoid little voice in the back of your mind suggests a hypothesis for Jonathan's absence and you hate yourself for thinking about something like that. What if he was cheating on you? What if all this distance over the past few months was actually someone between you.

Jonathan wasn't that kind of man, but the voice kept repeating. What if? What if he had grown tired of you? What if that person was more beautiful? Or more interesting? What if they made him happier than you?

The idea makes your stomach turn and you swallow dry. You pull your hand from his grip, getting up from the couch.

"I should go," you say as you put the lunchboxes back in the bag. "After all, you have a lot of work to do."

You feel numb as Jonathan follow you to the door, barely feeling the goodbye kiss he places on your forehead.

You wish you had walked out of the office hoping that things would get better or at least satisfied that this is just a temporary crisis that all couples have to face at some point.

Instead, doubt and a feeling of distress accompany you all the way home.

——

You stir awake, being pulled slowly from your dreams. Everything seems hazy and fuzzy as you run you fingers over Jonathan’s bedside, but you only find his side cold and empty. You sigh in frustration, letting your head sink against the pillow again. You should be used to it by now.

The alarm on your bedside table signals that it's past midnight, the numbers on the digital clock flashing through the darkness of the room. You snuggle under the covers again, almost forgetting what woke you up in the first place. Sleep is so tempting and you start to drift off.

But an insistent sound keeps you awake. You stare at the ceiling, your eyes getting used to the darkness as you begin to make out what exactly the noise was.

Steps. Someone was walking around the apartment.

You pull the sheets, the sole of your foot meeting the cold floor. You try not to assume the worst as you get out of bed. Maybe it was just Jonathan coming home from work.

You step into the hallway, turning on the switch, but the light bulb flickers a few time before the shadows envelop you once more. You sigh, cursing yourself silently. The hallway light wasn’t working properly and you were supposed to change it weeks ago.

You walk slowly with your arms extended in front of your body so you don’t bump into anything until you can reach the bathroom door. You turn the lights on and a momentary feeling of safety rushes over you. Everything looks okay in the bathroom, so you decide to let the lights on and the door open to let a little bit o the light illuminate the hallway.

After that you go to check the living room and the kitchen. Your thin nightgown isn't enough to keep you warm on that cold night and you hug yourself, a shiver running through your skin.

You finally go to the front door to test the handle. To your relief, is locked and the bolt was in place. Even though you lived in a safe neighborhood you still had your fears, after all, Gotham is Gotham. You can never be too sure.

Maybe it was just a dream? You wonder for a second until you notice the light in Jonathan's office leaking through the small crack in the door. As you get closer, the sound of mumbling and papers being flipped through becomes more noticeable. Jonathan was really incorrigible. After hours at his office, he brought even more work home.

"Jon, you should go to bed," you stop in front of the door, rubbing your eyes until they get used to the brightness of the room.

You had the clear image of Jonathan in your head. He'd be sitting behind his desk with a tired expression on his face, pen hanging loose in his hand while he is finishing giving grades fos his students’ tests. You would whisper in a sweet tone and stroke his hair until he agreed to follow you back to bed.

Instead, your heart sinks as your eyes fall on the stranger leaning over Jonathan's desk, papers scattered everywhere. He was tall and thin, wearing a brown suit. His face was covered by a patched mask, a rope around his neck.

You've heard and read countless stories about him, but you never expected that one day you'd come face to face with the Scarecrow.

Sleep is a distant thing now. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your whole body tense, your feet stuck on the ground. Your instincts scream at you to run, fight, do anything, but the idea of moving seems impossible. All you can do is watch transfixed as Scarecrow stares at you from across the room, a heavy, suffocating silence forming between the two of you.

For some reason he seems as surprised as you do, as if he didn't expect someone to show up.

He walks around the table with slow steps, his hands raised in the air. "Hush. I didn't come here to hurt you," he sounds calm and... strangely familiar. But the grim smile sewn into his mask doesn't help to reassure you.

This is like a nightmare. The kind where you stay in the same place while running, unable to distance yourself from the monster that chases you, no matter how hard you try. But now, the monster wouldn't disappear when you opened your eyes. No matter how much you blink, he's still there.

He's only a few inches away, his hand almost touching your arm, when your feet finally work again and you run out of the room, heading towards the kitchen.

You can hear the Scarecrow right behind you through the rapid beating of your heart, his footsteps reverberating against the hardwood floor, but you don't dare look back.

Your first extinct is to open one of the drawers to grab the biggest knife you can find. You turn just in time to see the Scarecrow standing in the kitchen doorway, your trembling hands gripping the handle of the knife as you point the blade at him. The shadows cast strange shapes on his face, making the smile on his mask seem even bigger. For a moment he looks like one of the monsters from Jonathan's movies.

"Don't come closer!" you scream.

He ignores your order, taking one step toward you and then another. Approaching in the same careful manner that a predator approaches its prey.

You swallow, your wobbly legs seeming to be unable to bear your own weight. "If you come any closer I-I... I'm going to hurt you."

He pauses for a moment, tilting his head as he studies you. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves ma’am. You don't want to make any rash decisions."

"Stay away from me! My husband is going to arrive any moment and he's going to-"

The Scarecrow throws his head back in a cruel laugh that sends a shiver down your spine, as if you've said something stupid.

"Look at you, trying to rationalize with fear. So brave," he shakes his head, approaching again.

With every step he takes, you take another step back in a futile attempt to increase the distance between you. You keep retreating until you're backed against the kitchen counter and that's when it lunges at you. He slaps your hand, throwing your knife across the room.

You try to scream, but he presses his hand over your mouth to muffle your cries for help. You flinch at the sensation of the cold leather of his gloves on your skin, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your arm.

You're like a deer at headlights, too scared to fight for your survival. He was so close now, you could see his eyes through the holes in the mask, deep brown circles staring back at you. His pupils were dilated, he was enjoying it.

To your horror, he presses his face against your neck. He inhales deeply against your skin, letting out a satisfied hum. The hair on the back of your neck stands up and you shiver against his grip.

"You’re afraid, aren’t you? You’re afraid, and it’s delicious,” he whispers close to your ear, his voice becoming dark and low as he takes a sharp inhale. "Mmm. You fear is so sweet, I can almost taste it on my tongue. Oh, darling. You're terrified," he laughs hoarsely.

You close your eyes so tightly that you can see little white spots. The whole world seems to spin and you feel dizzy. Would he drug you with the fear gas that all the news have been talking about? Or maybe force you to swallow some of the drugs he makes that look like Halloween candy? You can only think of Jonathan coming home to find your lifeless body lying on the kitchen floor.

The sob you let out goes almost unnoticed and you think he'll just ignore you, but the Scarecrow leans back, your eyes meeting as tears roll down your face.

"Shhh. No crying. Those aren't the kind of tears I want from you," he says in a soft, almost soothing tone as he strokes your hair. "I'll let you talk now, but don't scream. Got it?"

You nod as best you can and he finally pulls his hand off of you. Your tongue feels heavy inside your mouth when you try to speak.

"Wha... What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

"I'm still deciding," he shrugs.

"I don't have anything you want."

"Maybe I don't want something you have. Maybe I want you to do something for me. Have you thought about that?"

His words take a second to fully hit you. You wish you had misunderstood, but it was impossible not to notice the way he looked at you, how his eyes traveled up and down your body. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you shake your head.

"Please don't. I... I have a husband and he-"

Scarecrow interrupts you with a loud sigh. "You keep talking about your husband, but where is he?"

You open your mouth to answer him, but close it right away, pressing your lips into a thin line. You didn't know where Jonathan really was. Maybe he wasn't even in the office. What if he had lied to you?

He continues in a low tone, as if he's telling you a secret. "What kind of husband leaves his wife like that? So lonely. So vulnerable," one of his hands goes down slowly to caress the bare flesh of your thigh while the other grips your waist. You are startled by the feeling of his hands on you, how his touch is surprisingly slow and sensual. You find yourself thinking about Jonathan for a second before remembering that he's not the one touching you.

"Were you waiting for him? That's why you're wearing this nightgown? How lovely," his laugh makes your cheeks heat up. "Lucky me."

He drags his hand up your stomach, running along your sides, teases one of your breasts until your nipple is a stiffen bud underneath your nightgown. You try to look distant on the outside, but it’s impossible to deny the wetness forming between your legs. You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to hold in any noises.

You don't want that. You don't want his hands on you. You don't want his body against yours. But you can't remember the last time you felt wanted. It's been so long since you and Jonathan had sex. You're so tired of feeling alone.

Even with these ideas running through your head, you place a hand against his chest, opening up a bit of space between the two of you.

"No. That's not right," you say, "I don't... I don't want this."

"Oh, don't be like that," he whispers, rubbing his face against you neck. "That could be our little secret. I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise."

The air is drawn out of your lungs, as if you've been punched in the stomach. You turn your head slowly, the words stuck in your throat.

"Jonathan?" you mutter.

His body tenses suddenly, and he tilts his head back, staring at you wide-eyed, like a child who just got caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. How could you not have noticed before? Maybe it was fear confusing your senses, but all the signs were there. The same tall, slender silhouette, the long limbs, the deep brown eyes. The same voice. The same laugh.

He breaks the silence with a low laugh, shaking his head.

"I knew I couldn't fool your forever. You always have been so smart."

He lifts the mask slowly, revealing every bit of his face. The face you knew so well. Jonathan's face.

A million questions cross your mind, but before you can say anything Jonathan presses you against the counter again, capturing your lips.

You gasp and throw a fist into his chest, pressing your teeth against his bottom lip, biting hard enough to hurt, but this jusy makes Jonathan growls like a mad dog. His hands run all over your body, not knowing where to stop. He tugs at your nightgown, the cold air sending shivers through your skin as he grabs and squeezes every bit of flesh he can reach.

The kiss is demanding and sloppy, his hot tongue trailing across your lips and invading your mouth. All you can do is hold on to Jonathan as if your life depended on it, making him grunt as your nails sink into his covered back.

There's something familiar about how your bodies move in sync. A sensual dance that the two of you had done thousands of times before. But now there's a hunger behind Jonathan's movements, something possessive, as if he won’t let you escape. Maybe you were as hungry as he was.

The next moment your world changes perspective as Jonathan turns you around, lowering you down onto the kitchen counter until your cheek is pressed against the cold surface. You moan softly as he lifts the thin material of your nightgown, his mouth leaving warm kiss on the skin of your back.

He pulls your panties down, kicking your legs apart. You were practically naked, while Jonathan was fully clothed, having only taken off his mask and gloves. You feel so exposed, nothing to hide yourself while Jonathan stares at you laid bare before him.

You can hear him shuffling behind you, undoing his own belt and pants in a hurry. You turn your head just in time to see him approaching, his flushed cock pressing against your pussy, making you both grunt together. You don't even care if it hurts, all you want is Jonathan inside you. Filling you completely. Fuck, you want him so bad.

He gathers some of your wetness, his dick sliding in between your folds in slow movements. You moan softly when the tip catches on your clit, the sweet sensation making you buckle your hips towards him.

"Jonny..." you whine, "Please."

Jonathan laughs in a mocking tone, but you know he's not in the mood for teasing either.

You’re wet enough so there is no resistance as he presses intou you, your walls stretching to accommodate his cock. Jonathan moves slowly, leaving you’re both panting when he’s fully inside you. The pain and the pleasure mix deliciously, you missed him so much.

The first thrust takes the air out of your lungs. The second makes your legs tremble. The third makes your back arch and a sweet sound leave your lips. He keeps rutting against you, slow and deep. The wet sound of your bodies combined and your moans reverberate through the walls.

"You're the perfect victim, you know?" he says in between grunts, "You're so beautiful when you're scared. Oh, and when you started running – Fuck... I almost lost my mind. I wanted to take you right there on the floor."

You clench around him, driving him even deeper into you. Jonathan realizes the effect his words have on you, giving you a breathless chuckle.

"Did you like that? Do you like the idea of a maniac fucking you?"

The idea shouldn't be so tempting, but you can't stop thinking about Jonathan hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal himself and pull you into the darkness with him, where he could do whatever he wanted to you.

You nod weakly and he grips you tighter, his nails leaving half-moon marks on the soft skin of your waist. His pace is brutal now, your body moving everytime his hips hits your backside.

"Next time... Hah... I'll give you some of the toxin, just enough to keep you on the edge and a little scared," he takes a sharp breath, throwing his head back, "And then... I'm going to put on my mask and I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop."

You open your mouth, but you can’t form words to save your life, so you reach out behind you

to something to hold until your fingers find the rope around Jonathan’s neck and you pull him towards you. He lets out a surprised sound, turning into a sinful moan. His chest is against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

It’s good. It’s so fucking good. You can’t believe you almost forgot how good it was to have him inside you. You make a silent promise to never let him leave again.

One of his hands moves around your body, his fingers meeting your throbbing clit. He makes quick circles around it, pinching and pressing on it hard. For a moment it all seems too much and not enough at the same time. His cock moving inside you, the pressure on your clit. It was overwhelming in the best kind of way.

With your cheek pressed against the counter and tears streaming down your face, you can feel your orgasm approaching. Behind you, Jonathan's movements get more and more out of rhythm and you know he's not that far away either.

He keeps one hand in between your legs while the other lays flat on your mid section, pulling you close to him, your bodies still glued together.

"Tell me -Ah... Tell me who I am,” he mumbles, cheek nuzzled in your temple. “Tell me what I am,” almost sound like he is begging and you could never say no to him.

"Scarecrow!" the word leaves your lips before you know it. "You're the Scarecrow."

"Yes! That’s right! That’s right, good girl. My good girl,” his praise goes straight to your pussy and you squeeze him impossibly tight.

You throw your head back, stretching your neck until you can kiss him. It’s all teeth and tongue while he keeps moving inside you with shallow thrusts.

Your orgasm hits you so hard that almost hurts. The knot in your lower belly finally snaps and the wave of carnal bliss washes over your. Jonathan comes right after you. He curses between clenched teeth, his hips curling, his breath hot on your skin as he fills your cunt with hot wads of cum.

You both breathe heavily in the middle of the kitchen, your sweaty bodies intertwined perfectly. Thank God he is holding you, because you barely can feel your legs and if it weren’t for him you know you would be on the floor by this point.

Jonathan snuggles up against your neck, murmuring something sweet, but your mind is too hazy now to hear him. You bring a hand up to his head, stroking his hair.

As you come down from you high, reality finally hits you. One of Gotham's most wanted criminals just came inside you and now he's cuddling you. Oh, and coincidentally, he's your husband... Fuck.

#jonathan crane #the scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow smut #btaa scarecrow #batman rouges #rogue gallery #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x you

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mouwrites · 11 months

Note

kyle or stan oneshot with a reader who suffers anxiety and hits themselves when they get too anxious?

Absolutely! I did Kyle for this one, hope that’s cool!

Little TW for mentions of hitting yourself!! (Not graphic)

Word count: 912

South Park - Kyle When You Hit Yourself

The chilly autumn air nipped your nose as you walked home. The setting sun cast golden rays and long shadows across the terrain, the stark contrast making you blink whenever you transitioned between shade and sun.

Beside you was Kyle, watching the puffy yellow clouds with an absentminded passiveness. He walked quickly, as he usually did when he forgot someone was with him. You weren’t offended, though. You had other things on your mind. Chief was trying to keep up with the long-legged boy, at least until you got to his house.

He finally seemed to remember you were with him as you walked up the steps, and he picked up the pace even more so he could open the door for you. You offered a thin smile as you passed the threshold.

Sitting at his kitchen table, your leg began to bounce. Now that you were stationary, your mind got its turn to rush.

It seemed like you had a million things to do, plus the load of homework you’d been dealt at school that day. You didn’t even know what to begin with. What were those deadlines again? Your leg bounced quicker.

Besides being busy, you were also pretty distressed. You couldn’t explain it, but you were just worried about things. Even the smallest of uncertainties seemed to cause you great anxiety; watching Kyle prepare a snack, you wondered what was waiting for dinner at home, which caused you to start spiraling.

Would you even have time for dinner? When would you leave Kyle’s house? Would it be rude if you left a little early? Would he mind if you ate dinner at his house? You’d need to be careful to be polite around his mother, and of course you’d need to offer to do the dishes—but you already had so much to do and—!

Kyle turned his head at the noise. You froze, praying he didn’t see you. But you couldn’t relax when he turned back around.

Suddenly it was all churning at once in your mind. The incessant noise of the school hallways, the nagging voices of your teachers, people standing too close—mercy!—even the noise of Kyle rummaging in the pantry!

Kyle turned to investigate the noise again, this time catching you in the act. Dropping the bag of pretzels he was holding onto the floor, he lunged over to you, seizing your wrists and holding on tightly to stop your battering.

“Stop that!” His voice scared you. There was anger in it.

When you looked up at him, eyes wide with fear, you were surprised to see the concern lacing his expression.

You shook your head violently. Your hands moved to strike again, but Kyle held fast.

“Woah, stop! What’s wrong? Can you tell me?”

Seeing that he wasn’t helping, he crouched down so that you were at eye level. He moved his grip to your hands, interlacing your fingers and squeezing gently. “Hey, look at me.”

When your eyes met his, he gave an encouraging smile. “Just keep looking at me. It’s just us here. Hold my hands.”

You squeezed his hands tightly, channeling the agitation that was bursting from your seams. Your ragged breaths, which you hadn’t realized were quite so quick, became longer and slower. Tears pricking your eyes dribbled down your face, but no more came.

As your grip eased, Kyle breathed a sigh of relief.

“Better?”

You nodded.

“Now, can you tell me why you did that?”

“Um,” you began, testing the strength of your own voice, “it just… happens sometimes. When I’m anxious. There’s just so much energy, and I panic, and… I… do that.”

“Oh.” Kyle glanced at the ground, processing your words with a furrowed brow. “Well,” he began, standing up, “how about you just squeeze my hands like that instead?” Then, turning a little pink, he added hurriedly: “When you get anxious, I mean.”

You smiled. Squishing his bony fingers did sort of help. “I’d like that.”

“I’d like that, too.” He brushed his thumb over yours, looking at your hands with a little smile.

Keeping one hand in yours, he took the seat beside you. “Can you tell me what made you so anxious?”

A little pang of anxiety revived in your chest when he said that, but you just tightened your grip on his hand.

“It’s been a lot today. And I have a lot to do.”

“Yeah, we did get a lot of homework, didn’t we?” Kyle chuckled, tilting his head back and rubbing his neck in exasperation. “How about we do it together?”

“Don’t you want to hang out like we usually do? I mean, I’m sure you don’t want to worry about homework right after school—”

Kyle silenced you with a dismissive wave. “Doing homework together is still hanging out. And I don’t mind at all; if I’m gonna do it anyway, it’d be nice to have you here with me.”

You smiled. “Okay. Yeah. Cool.”

“Cool. But let me get the pretzels. They’ll ease the pain.”

You giggled, slowly releasing his hand so he could jog away to retrieve the snacks.

He was right; the pretzels helped a lot. Not only with the drag of doing homework, but with everything. Maybe it was actually because you were being productive, but you decided to give the credit to the pretzels. Those, and the amazing boy you were sharing them with, whose hand was now yours to hold when things got bad again.

Yippee another Kyle one shot!! Hope you guys enjoyed! Thank you for reading! And thanks anon for the request!!

#south park #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle x reader

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butterflydm · 1 year

Text

wot reread: a memory of light (chapter 37)

spoilers for the last book, a memory of light

I am going to do this enormous chapter a little differently than the previous chapters (basically so that I can refer to this post later and understand all the various threads and not get them mixed up with each other). Instead of going in chronological order by each event presented to me, I'm going to have different PoV sections and then have my thoughts under each of those.

Egwene & Gawyn (& Galad)

Gawyn is exhausted, despite the week that they all just took to prepare for this last push of the battle. That's not a good sign. Pretty sure that's the Bloodknife ring sapping his strength. Yeah, when he puts the ring on again "his strength returned". (From TGS: "One never committed Bloodknives unless one was very serious, for they did not return from their missions." "The incredible abilities came at a cost, however, for the rings leeched life from their hosts, killing them in a matter of days. Removing the ring would slow that process slightly but once activated - done by touching a drop of one's own blood to the stone ring while wearing it - the process was irreversible.") He's already dead. He's just still walking around. Oh, hon.

"[Egwene] hesitated for a moment, looking through the gateway to Mat's command post. Egwene met the eyes of the Seanchan woman across the table, where she sat imperiously on her throne. I have not finished with you, Egwene thought." A very mean thing for Sanderson to write here, considering.

From her sense in the bond, she believes that Gawyn has gone off "to join the Andoran army" and sends Bryne to fetch him. Then she assigns Siuan to go "join Mat and the Seanchan Empress and listen with ears accustomed to hearing what is not spoken". Siuan calls Egwene a legacy that will shape "what is to come".

"I'll help watch this Seanchan woman for you, maybe help poor Min crawl out of the fang-fish net she's found herself in." Good luck, Siuan!

Egwene realizes, too late, that she's sent Bryne off to the wrong place, as once she travels to her own new location, that Gawyn is actually "on the Heights themselves, where the Shadow held the strongest."

Honestly, using the Special Assassin Rings to try to commit a Special Assassination on the leader of the Shadowspawn forces sounds like... a good idea? Gawyn knows that the original Bloodknives were doing a very good job specifically murdering Aes Sedai, because that was the crime that he was investigating when he found them in the first place. I also wonder if a lot of people forgot or missed that this attempt to go kill Demandred is not when Gawyn first activated the ring and signed his own death warrant (I bet that I missed it during my first read too). That he first activated the ring back when he and Egwene were pinned down by the Sharans and death seemed right around the corner for both of them. Gawyn's death has been irreversible since chapter 23.

"Once, perhaps, he would have done this for the pride of the battle and the chance to pit himself against Demandred. That was not his heart now. His heart was the need. Someone had to fight this creature, someone had to kill him or they would lose this battle. They could all see it. Risking Egwene or Logain would be too great a gamble. Gawyn could be risked. No one would send him to do this -- no one would dare -- but it was necessary."

He isn't able to get the assassin's blow off on Demandred and it looks like a key element is because Demandred detected the 'weave' that the ter'angreal is using on him. He calls it Night's Shade and confirms that it "leaks your life away".

I wonder why Demandred's face seems "eerily familiar" to Gawyn? I can't think of why that might be. lol, why does Demandred call everyone "little"? "Little man." "Little queen". "Little swordsman". What is your obsessions with everyone's heights? (wait, is he the one that was SLIGHTLY shorter than LTT and pissed off about it? as opposed to Sammael, who was considerably shorter than LTT and pissed off about it?)

haha, Demandred is CONVINCED that Lews Therin is the one directing the battle on the other side, either using Mat's face as a Mask of Mirrors or by sending messages through Mat. He has a spy in Mat's camp, probably, but is convinced that Rand is there somewhere, hiding. I mean, I kinda wish he were, just so that Rand and Mat COULD HAVE A REAL SCENE TOGETHER, but Demandred and I will both have to be disappointed. But it's kinda funny that it feels like Gawyn was rejecting the idea that he is "following" Rand in, like, a philosophical way, but Demandred meant "Lews Therin is literally your battle commander".

Gawyn loses the duel. And I like Gawyn this time around, so I'm much more emotionally affected by it. That's so rude. 😭

Egwene fights to reach Gawyn, feeling how close to death he is. 😭😭

Galad is on the Heights, fighting against Sharan channelers on Mat's orders, wearing a copy of the foxhead medallion. Galad also keeps getting confronted with things about 'his' Children of Light that are making him go 'yikes'. He's killing the Sharan channelers because it makes sense for the battle and he was ordered to do it... but the Children are happy to have an excuse to kill channelers and have some... real strange beliefs that kinda make channelers akin to vampires (...burying the head separately or they will rise again?).

One of the Children finds Gawyn, near death, and brings Galad to him. As he dies, Gawyn is talking over his regrets, starting with regretting staying at the White Tower back in book 4. He tells Galad to tell Egwene that he loves her, and Galad reassures him that Egwene already knows. Galad gets very cold inside when he realizes that his brother is dying. "He had seen men die, he had lost friends. This hurt more. Light, but it did."

When he tries to tell Gawyn that he needs to leave, so that he doesn't leave Galad without a brother, Gawyn tells him about Rand. And he tells Galad not to hate Rand. "I always hated him but I stopped." And Gawyn dies. 😭😭😭

Egwene feels it when it happens. After sending out a burst of flames at the nearby enemies as the pain consumes her, she collapses for the moment (there is a group of Whitecloaks nearby so she was very very close to reaching Gawyn before he died. That is heartbreaking).

Egwene wakes up after having been removed from the battlefield. She feels empty and heartbroken but, especially after she overhears how badly the battle is going, she knows that she does not have the time for grief or mourning, not now. "Egwene al'Vere lost a man she loved, and she felt him die through a bond. The Amrylin has sympathy for Egwene al'Vere, as she would have sympathy for any Aes Sedai dealing with such loss. And then, in the face of the Last Battle, the Amrylin would expect that woman to pick herself up and return to the fight." It's interesting how (as Rand's foil), Egwene is both the same kind of hero that Rand is, but she's also the kind of hero that Rand expected himself to be but actually ends up not being. Rand's Last Battle is philosophical; Egwene's Last Battle is physical (which is to say, the show gets another point right in how they decided to distribute episode eight out to its protagonists -- with Rand's fight ultimately being in his head while Egwene's is out on the battlefield; that's what Rafe & co meant when they said they were doing a whole-series adaptation and not just adapting book-by-book. they looked at the actual endgame needs of the characters and put in the work up-front to make sure that those would vibe with the set-up).

18. In order to keep herself balanced on the battlefield, Egwene decides that she needs to bond a Warder, though she is far from emotionally ready, and she asked "Leilwin Shipless" if she will accept the duty, getting immediate agreement. And Egwene goes back out to fight again.

19. "Egwene led an assault the likes of which had not been seen in millennia." There's some intense fighting and then Egwene comes face-to-face with Taim, who calls himself M'Hael now. There is an intense battle scene. The battle involves a lot of balefire being tossed around by Taim and, in the back of her mind, Egwene ponders the notion of whether or not the weave really is impossible to counter. Egwene didn't need the help of anyone else's ancient memories in order to rediscover Traveling, after all. That was all her, figuring it out from basic principles.

20. Egwene and her Aes Sedai have been fighting on the Heights for hours. Taim reappears, pouring balefire into her line of Aes Sedai and killing dozens. Egwene thinks again about what Perrin said in TAR about balefire -- "it's only a weave" -- and considers how balefire is considered a one-of-a-kind sort of thing. But what if it isn't? What if it works like any other weave? With the One Power, there are always two halves. Logically, balefire should have an equal and opposite counterpart, just as saidar has saidin. "If a weave exists, so must its opposite". And when Taim strikes again with balefire, she counters with this idea of this weave that she has created, one that is the opposite of balefire. Something that will reinforce the Pattern instead of unraveling it.

She decides that it is called the Flame of Tar Valon, and she uses it to kill Taim.

21. Egwene realizes that she's reached the point of no return -- if she releases her grip on saidar, then she will burn out. There is too much inside her right now. More than she can hold. So she can let go and burn out and survive... or she can take that power and use it.

She tells Leilwin née Egeanin one last command -- find the seals and keep them until she sees 'the moment the light shines'. Then she wraps her up in Air and shoves her through a gateway, releasing their bond.

She closed her eyes and drew in the power. More than a woman should be able to, more than was right. Far beyond safety, far beyond wisdom. This sa'angreal had no buffer to prevent this.

Her body was spent. She offered it up and became a column of light, releasing the Flame of Tar Valon into the ground beneath her and high into the sky. The Power left her in a quiet, beautiful explosion, washing across the Sharans and sealing the cracks created by her fight with M'Hael.

Egwene's soul separated from her collapsing body and rested upon that wave, riding it into the Light.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Before I move on to the next set of plot-threads, I want to ponder a question: why on earth does Gawyn get blamed for Egwene deciding to go out in a blaze of glory? He died hours ago. She bonded a new Warder. She doesn't die out of rage over her Warder's death here. To quote Gawyn: [Her] heart was the need. Egwene looked at what the battle needed from her at that moment, and she made a choice.

Once upon a time, Lews Therin stood on a mountain after losing the love of his life, and his despair created destruction around him. Once upon a time, Egwene stood on a battlefield after losing the love of her life, and her sacrifice healed the destruction around her.

Last time around, Lews Therin was fighting the wrong battle -- and the wrong person was the one fighting in the battle.

re: Egwene dying at all. I actually do think that having one of the Emond's Field Five die was a good choice. Would I have picked Egwene as the one? Probably not. otoh, it kinda seems like the other four were all mentioned as still being alive in Jordan's epilogue, so Egwene was the only one who could die (since the epilogue was considered basically sacred). idk I'm a big softie who has a hard time killing off characters so I'm not really the person to talk to about that subject, lol.

Rand (& Nynaeve)

TDO's attack against Rand starts out as an attempt to break him down and shatter him, but Rand resists. "It was as if the Dark One was shredding him while at the same time trying to crush him entirely, coming at Rand from infinite directions, all at once, in a wave."

When that fails, TDO then 'weaves' a reality for Rand to see. A world 'remade' in TDO's image, where the taint overlays everything, the Blight is everywhere, and Rand has been forgotten in his failure. TDO makes him watch his father die, and then Dannil leads him back to Emond's Field, where a Turned Nynaeve is waiting with channelers and Fades to Turn Rand too. It's an attempt to make Rand feel despair and give up, but when Nynaeve & co begin the process of trying to Turn Rand to the Shadow, he pushes back, rejecting this reimagining of the world that TDO has created. Hmm, Rand finds threads here that are more varied than the five threads of the One Power, calls them "the fabric of creation" and uses them to channel a different reality.

We now get introduced to the world that Rand reimagines. "He passed from nothingness into majesty."

Gorgeous buildings. Wide roads but nothing driving on it, only people walking around, in vibrant clothing. Now, instead of the memory of Turned Chosen enslaving and tormenting the Two Rivers, Rand has willed into being memories of Ogier coming "to the Two Rivers to repay Rand for his sacrifice, intending to build a monument here, [but] the town's leaders had wisely requested help improving their city instead".

Rand doesn't quite imagine paradise entirely -- though he's integrated the Seanchan into his vision of peace here, he doesn't know enough about the Sharans to do the same, so there are still "campaigns" there. And there is a monument dedicated to the fallen of the Last Battle with "familiar" faces that Rand isn't quite willing to look at. Like TDO had done earlier, "He'd built this reality out of the threads of what could be, of mirrors of the world as it now played out".

The knowledge that other people are out there dying and sacrificing for a potential future shakes Rand -- he wanted so much for his sacrifice to be the only sacrifice, which was always going to be impossible. But when he lets that thought enter his mind, this vision of reality starts to get eaten up by TDO and Rand has to force it back into place.

It is the anniversary of the hundred years of peace that Rand had wanted in the Dragon's Peace that he had the nations sign before (and during, in the case of the Seanchan) the Last Battle. Lady Adora, Perrin's granddaughter, is the mayor of Emond's Field. Rand slips past her and into the school. A school for anyone to come and learn, no matter what their background. TDO taunts him again for believing that he can eliminate suffering entirely. So we're kinda doing a "the perfect is the enemy of the good" argument here. Is "better" enough when it isn't "perfect"? And is "perfect" only ever a lie? TDO attacks Rand again, and this world fades back into a faint mirror of possibility. The heart of the Last Battle is a philosophical argument about the nature of reality, and of human nature.

As he stands with the great shadow of TDO, Rand can see the armies outside fighting. TDO is mostly outside of time, except wherever it touches the Pattern. There it is bound to the linear nature of time. TDO tells Rand to watch as the people fighting in his name die, and spins another vision for him.

The new world-possibility that TDO spins for Rand looks very much like the regular world, with some minor differences like steam-drawn carriages driving around. He's in Caemlyn this time, and he can still see the hole in the wall from when Talmanes blew the hole to escape from the Shadowspawn, but there's a bustle and a life around.

He goes to a fruit seller, and she mentions her fresh peaches for sale. "Peaches," Rand said, aghast. Everyone knew those were poisonous. She tells him that they are safe now; the toxin has been removed. Hey, isn't it peach blossoms that Rand made bloom back in Ebou Dar? So that was actually meant as something of a subtle threat, though Tuon took as an Important Omen. As they're talking, a street urchin steals one of the fruits and starts to run off, and the fruit-seller pulls out a rod and does something that instantly kills him. When Rand reacts in horror, she acts puzzled, asking him if "it" belonged to him. Yikes! Yeah, definitely still a very Bad World, Rand. When she asks him what faction he belongs to, he takes that as his cue to leave, very quickly.

He searches Caemlyn to find the Queen's Blessing and, with relief, sees that Basel Gill is working inside. So this one is not a hundred years in the future like the last one. Gill says that they're in the Fourth Age and that the Last Battle was won. After Gill tells him that he'll get him a faction symbol, Rand notices a nothingness that signifies TDO's presence and questions it. This is a world where TDO has tricked people into believing that they won the Last Battle.

When Gill returns, it's with guards to rob Rand for his fancy coat. Rand realizes that TDO has taken everyone's consciences/compassion. This is a world without any spark of 'light' inside people's hearts, only Shadow. Rand tells TDO that seeing this only makes him want to fight harder and now he will show TDO a world "without Shadow".

In the cavern, Nynaeve works to save Alanna's life. All her Power is still wrapped up in the link with Rand, so she has to sew and use her herbs and all her know-how from being the Wisdom of Emond's Field.

As Rand tries to weave together the possibility of a world without the Shadow, he finds that the threads resist him and he wonders if that is because of how unlikely such a world is. iirc, Rand's upcoming dreamworld is a moment that the show has already given us great set-up for with the fantasy that Rand gets from Ishamael in episode 8 and is another illustration of how far ahead Rafe & co were thinking with all their choices in the first season.

He chooses to create Caemlyn, to wash the taste out of his mouth of having seen the horrible vision that TDO showed him last time. Trees are in full bloom, there isn't a cloud in the sky, and children don't recognize what a sword is. He asks to visit the queen and is directed towards the gardens, though he first travels through a hallway of magic mirrors, letting him see this paradise reflected in other lands: a peaceful meadow in the Mountains of Mists, the Stone a museum instead of a fortress, the rebuilt towers of Malkier, the Chora Fields of the Age of Legends surrounding the city of Rhuidean as he hears Aiel voices lifted in song. No locks on the doors. No more need for money -- "a nearly forgotten eccentricity". Channelers create food for everyone and Aes Sedai heal anyone who suffers injury.

His own grave in the Blasted Lands, where his body had been burned after the Last Battle, overgrown with leaves, grass, and flowers. Rand pauses at this window for a long moment before he moves onward into the gardens.

Elayne sits alone in the gardens, not too far from the garden wall where he once fallen in and met her for the first time. "Elayne was as beautiful as she'd been when they'd last parted. She was no longer pregnant, of course. A hundred years had passed since the Last Battle. She appeared not to have aged a day." When Elayne sees him, she greets him in surprise.

18. She wonders if her daughter is using the Mask of Mirrors to play a prank on her, but Rand sinks down to one knee before her and tells her that he's real. And, as he looks into her eyes and listens to her voice, he realizes that "something was wrong".

19. "That simpering tone, that vapid reaction... Elayne had never been like that." He gets more disturbed as she continues, talking about Aviendha spending her week off from singing to do "nursery duty". "Aviendha. Tending children and singing to chora trees. There was nothing wrong with that, really. Why shouldn't she enjoy such activities? But it was wrong, too. He thought Aviendha would be a wonderful mother, but to imagine her seeking to spend all day playing with other people's children..."

20. When he looks into Elayne's eyes, he sees the same kind of blankness that he's seen in those forcibly Turned to the Shadow. He accuses TDO of having done something to her. But TDO asks him, "Did you think that removing me from their lives would leave them unaltered?"

21. "She was not herself... because Rand had taken away her ability to be herself." Again! This resonates so well with what was set up in episode eight! Rafe is playing the long game!

22. I do have to... interject a side note: this scene really couldn't be done with Min because... this horror that Rand accidentally did to Elayne, stripping her of her autonomy in an attempt to create a world without Shadow... is basically what Min did to herself in LoC.

He’ll have to take me as I am, [Min] thought, twitching the reins irritably. I’m not changing for any man. Only, her clothes would have been as plain as any farmer’s not that long ago, her hair had not been in ringlets almost to her shoulders, and a small voice whispered, You’ll be whatever you think he wants you to be.

Honestly, that's a big part of why I dislike how prophecy is used in a couple of the romances (Min->Rand and Mat->Tuon) because it feels like it's been used to strip away their autonomy and yet this loss of their self doesn't get treated like a horror even though their 'choice' to chase Rand/marry Tuon was done because they believed they had no choice.

23. Rand weeps in despair at all the loss of life that is going on in the Last Battle outside of Shayol Ghul. "He should have been able to protect them. Why couldn't he? Against his will, the names began to replay in his mind. The names of those who had died for him, starting with only women, but now expanded to each and every person he should have been able to save - but hadn't." But he refuses to give in to TDO's offer to 'stop fighting and rest'. And TDO spins another possibility for him...

24. The next offer that TDO makes is 'nothing'. Aka oblivion for all of existence. He claims that it is the same as the 'peace of the void' that Rand seeks so often. Rand gives the offer due consideration, and then rejects it.

25. Rand feels Egwene's death and it shakes him hard. Egwene's name is added to the list in his mind, and despair claws at him as TDO gloats that the dead belong to him.

26. Rand is watching the whole battle play out -- he sees Elayne (captive and alone), he see Rhuarc (his mind forfeit), Mat (desperate, facing down horrible odds), and Lan (riding to his death).

Demandred's words dug at him. The Dark One's pressure continue to tear at him.

Rand had failed.

But in the back of his mind, a voice. Frail, almost forgotten.

Let go.

Elayne & Mat (& Fortuona & Min & Galad)

Elayne is heading into the main Seanchan camp to talk to Mat about why he appears to be changing the battle plans without letting her know. Along the way, they deal with some Draghkar and Elayne deliberately deafens her side so that they will be able to ignore their song. After this, she's approached by a sul'dam and damane pair and, reluctantly, allows the damane to heal her ears. Elayne is, btw, wearing sturdy boots.

Elayne has also been paying attention to how the Seanchan behave, and so she does not talk to any of the sul'dam herself, because she's noticed that they care a LOT about who talks to who. This sul'dam in particular is highborn, Elayne suspects from the shaven sides of her head, so she'll definitely feel insulted by Elayne not being willing to speak to her. <3

Elayne also notes here that the Seanchan highborn seem to dislike the idea of being healed with the Power ("Why any of you would want to be Healed by an animal is beyond me," the sul'dam says). But she also points out that there's a gap between what the Seanchan claim is true and what they actually seem to do -- they say they disapprove of healing but are having their damane learn the weaves.

Mat and Elayne's relationship seems to be fairly healthy here which honestly is fascinating given... you know. Tuon and the whole Seanchan defection. Elayne insults Mat when she greets him, but he finds it amusing, just as she suspected that he would. He's made up a throne for her in Andoran red-and-gold, extra cushioned, and with a still-steaming cup of tea waiting for her! Husband behavior! Not the kind of ~husband behavior~ that Mat derided all throughout TGS but actual "I care about your comfort" behavior.

She notes that his clothing "smelled of some kind of compromise" -- Tuon agreed to let Mat wear clothing in the style that he preferred as long as it was silk? Elayne also notes that he's wearing a pink ribbon around his hat. And that is also fascinating because Mat had two very specific memories about Tylin's (pink) ribbons in his second chapter in this book (right before he saw Tuon again), and they were both extremely negative. The first time was when his scarf around his neck reminded him of "a ribbon that felt like a chain" and the second was his flashback to the pink ribbons when he saw Tylin's headboard/bed. So for Mat to put a pink ribbon around his hat is... interesting. A reminder of the chains that he's still wearing? We're not in his PoV, so we don't get his reasoning, and I don't think he ever thinks about it in his own PoV.

"All in all, Elayne was impressed by how easily the scout mixed his obeisance and his report. She was also sickened. No ruler should demand such of her subjects. A nation's strength came from the strength of its people; break them, and you were breaking your own back."

I am also really really curious by what (silent) Fortuona might be thinking of the casual & intimate way that Mat and Elayne are talking to each other here, given how jealous she's gotten in the past. Elayne noted when she entered the tent that Fortuona was present ("dressed in enough green silk to supply a shop in Caemlyn for two weeks" and with Min standing silently at her side) but has not engaged with her at all.

"You spent this whole week planning with us, and you knew the entire time you'd throw [the plans] out with the dishwater." Anyway, Mat says that he didn't know the entire time, but that he needs to keep the plans in his head if they want them to be safe from the Forsaken. Also, Elayne, in contrast to most of the people who have interacted with Mat recently, is able to figure out what he's thinking just from a couple of micro-expressions.

But it's interesting/frustrating the implied changes that have happened over the course of this week of off-screen planning -- aka Tuon compromising with Mat. Because it happens off-screen, we don't actually find out why Tuon was willing to compromise - is it because, with all his friends around, she's realized that it would be impossible to control him with the methods she would use if they were alone, because he could just... walk fifty feet away and hang out with his powerful friends instead of being stuck with her if she pushes him too far (as he did in the previous chapter when she was trying to force him to sit in judgement)? Has she actually had off-screen character development (if so, stop having important emotional moments happen off-screen!)? We just don't know.

Mat is also still calling Fortuona "Tuon". And that scene ended with Elayne never, at any point, engaging with Tuon and she also never thinks of Fortuona as "Mat's wife", only as "the Seanchan Empress". Surely she has to know by this point that they're married but she Does Not Think About It. I genuinely have so many questions -- one of the primary ones being: where has Mat been sleeping this last week? Does the fact that Mat was saying "Tuon's tent" in the previous chapter mean that he has his own tent separate from hers? Tuon positioned "having sex" as a reward-type situation back when Mat first showed up in Ebou Dar, so is that time in the gardens the only time that they've had sex? Given that Tuon seems to want Min by her side constantly, if she did decide to have sex with Mat again, would she insist on Min staying in the tent with them to keep an eye out for sex-related omens? (we already know that Selucia and at least one or two other guard-slaves would likely be present) Has Mat been avoiding having sex with her or sleeping in the same tent as her so that she doesn't get another chance to steal his medallion? So many questions, absolutely nothing in the narration that gives me any hints at answers.

Okay, our first Mat PoV in this chapter is fascinating because Mat has basically the exact same thought here about Galad that he had about Tuon in an earlier chapter. Compare "[Galad] could have been a statue, with that pretty face and unchanging expression. No, statues had more life." vs "Mat shivered. He didn’t like it when Tuon got like this. That stare of hers... it seemed like the stare of another person. A person without compassion. A statue had more life to it." The Whitecloaks = Seanchan comparison is alive and well (or the Seanchan are what the Whitecloaks would be if they had the kind of continent-wide coercive power).

Min is spending all her time in the command tent whispering to Tuon. It sure feels like she swapped super-easily from being Rand's prophecy girl to being Tuon's prophecy girl (okay, okay, I'll cut her some slack since Rand did ask her to watch Fortuona). When Elayne's voice sounds "cold" here, Mat compares her to an Aes Sedai, unlike their earlier encounters. Also... it doesn't sound like Selucia is around? Did she get demoted again? Elayne also... sorta speaks to Tuon here? But then quickly swaps back to talking to Mat only lol.

Mat realizes that there's a spy either inside or just around the command tent, because of how quickly Demandred is responding to his changes.

Mat is amused by the fact that Elayne has managed to "shift" her throne around so that it's either the same height or slightly higher than Tuon's, so he hasn't ~embraced Tuon's dignity as his own~ or however the Seanchan might put it.

15. Hmm, we also have confirmation here that Mat has been... flirting (????? sexually harassing???? who knows with New Mat but probably harassing, sadly) with other Seanchan Bloods, if not in front of Tuon, then in front of people who would report to Tuon, which is another interesting piece of data to put into the puzzle. It really does seem like Mat has managed to (off the page) force a certain level of compromise into his marriage.

16. And, here, Mat slips away with just Elayne and Birgitte so that he can reassure Elayne about his plans in private, even though Tuon questions him walking away (and he doesn't even look back at her because "those eyes could drill through solid steel"). It genuinely seems like some fascinating stuff happened in that week of planning that we didn't get to see! Mat seems a lot less scared of doing things that will upset Tuon. But again, we don't know if that's actually due to a change in Mat and Tuon's relationship or if it's Mat's physical proximity to people who would unquestioningly take his side against hers that gives him new boldness.

17. He tells Elayne that he has a plan to deal with the spy that he believes is listening in at the command tent, and he goes through his entire thought process for her here, which is an astonishingly unprecedented amount of communication from Mat. So Elayne is in on his plan -- and away from the command post so that if things go wrong, she can pick another general to lead them; and he sent a message to Talmanes about his plan as well (that Talmanes signaled that he received), so the only remaining question mark for Mat is whether or not he can "coax" Tuon into doing what needs to be done.

I am going to say that I find it very interesting that when Mat is certain that there's a spy in the command tent and that their security is compromised, he finds a reason to get Elayne away from the command tent. The reason makes tactical sense, of course, but it's interesting.

18. Birgitte tells Elayne that all her older memories are gone now. Her first memories are of waking up to Nynaeve and Elayne in this world. Elayne wants to go after Birgitte, to try to comfort her, but Galad arrives. Galad isn't entirely certain why he's been sent here but he's got time to scold Elayne for being on the battlefield "in your condition". Elayne (accurately) points out that if they lose, it's gonna be a lot worse for the kids. So Elayne and Galad can talk about the kids together but Elayne and Tam can't?

19. Elayne knows Mat so well, even as she claims to despair over understanding him. "I'm convinced that Mat only acts simple so that people will let him get away with more."

20. A letter arrives for Galad from Mat, and Sanderson makes fun of himself when he has Elayne note that Mat's spelling and handwriting is much better in this letter than the one he sent her in ToM. Anyway, he's sent the copy he had of the medallion (Elayne does verify here that it's a copy and not the original) to Galad and told him to go kill as many Sharan channelers as he's capable of killing. Because he feels like "a Whitecloak" will have the stomach to go kill a bunch of channelers. When Galad agrees with Elayne that he shouldn't have a problem with "killing women" and explains that women are just as capable of evil as men are, Elayne tells him "You actually said something that doesn't make me want to strangle you." lol, ilu Elayne. Galad thinks she's joking but, no, of course not.

Characterization note: Mat never gave the medallion copy to Tuon. That was the whole reason that he'd originally held onto it after ToM, with plans to give it to Tuon to protect her. ...and then she stole his medallion and it sounds like he had to do some fast-talking to get it back. And then he never mentions or brings up the copy until this moment when he sends it to Galad.

Did Tuon's betrayal of Mat earlier in AMoL mean that he no longer trusted her with a medallion?

Did Tuon's own paranoia and mistrust screw her out of getting that extra level of protection and trust openly given from Mat, and so Mat held onto it to find another purpose for the copy instead?

21. Min apparently is still spending all her time here quietly whispering to Tuon. She's gotta be someone's little whisper, I guess. She's gotten used to it over the last few books. Anyway, Logain is here because he wants to go fight at Shayol Ghul instead of here at the "battle for the little lives of men". Or he wants to be sent against Demandred, as the "dragon's replacement". Mat finally just gives Logain permission to go fight Demandred if he wants to do it so badly.

22. Ah, here is where Mat has another willful delusion (number five? six? not sure): "What he would give to be done with all of these high heads. Mat might be one of them now, but that could be fixed. All he had to do was convince Tuon to forsake her throne and run off with him. That would not be easy, but bloody ashes, he was fighting the Last Battle. Compared to the challenge he now faced, Tuon seemed an easy knot to untie."

Made up a girl in his head, one that Fortuona will never be. Good luck with that, and all.

This does also show that Mat continues to have no interest in being part of the Seanchan hierarchy (and this is something that is backed up by his actions, like refusing to legitimize himself as the Prince of Ravens by refusing to sit in judgement of soldiers throwing themselves on the Empress's mercy). Though Mat shows signs of protectiveness and sometimes affection towards 'Tuon', he shows no signs of wanting to be involved with 'The Seanchan Empress Fortuona'. It does feel a bit like we're continuing the thread where Sanderson actually gave Mat a reason for his bizarre turnaround in CoT/KoD by having him mentally compare the fear that Tuon/the sul'dam have over channeling with the fear that Rand/male channelers have over channeling -- this is an echo of the 'Rand-friend vs Dragon Reborn-scary' battle that Mat has been having in his brain, off-and-on, ever since he first learned that Rand could channel. I wish that Sanderson had leaned into it more, but even this subtext here is more of an explanation for Mat's change in characterization in CoT than we ever got from Jordan.

I have to admit, the way that it's done does kinda remind me of BBC's Merlin -- in S1, Arthur and Merlin go through this entire character arc of Arthur looking past his prejudices about servants as he becomes Merlin's friend. And then the show aired and large parts of the audience went, "huh, kinda seems like they're in love with each other"; and so the show did a hard reset in S2 and Arthur basically went through that exact same arc with Gwen, who was always meant to be his canon love interest, and went back to being more of a jerk towards Merlin. And in WoT, Mat's struggle between caring about a person vs being put off by/scared of that person's public mask was first grounded in his friendship with Rand, but now it's basically been transferred over to Tuon instead. Basically "oh shit, this character arc makes this character look queer; better shift it over to his canon het love interest STAT".

(but imo this thread works so much better with Rand because the READERS know the real person behind the public mask; and I feel like we never really get that with Tuon -- there are hints that a real person exists but even in her own PoVs, it feels like Tuon is still mostly just The Mask)

23. Tuon signals that it's time for her and Mat to stage their fake fight about the Seanchan pulling out of the battle, picking "I can protect myself" as the issue she wants to fight over, which Mat thinks is kinda silly but whatever. "His plan with Tuon was to take a cue from what Rand had once done with Perrin". ...how did Mat find out about that? I guess from Min? Perrin was asleep and Rand was gone, so I guess it must have been from Min. I'm... pretty sure she knew the Rand & Perrin fight was fake? Or maybe Perrin told him about it during the dinner where Perrin laughed and laughed over how droll it was that Mat had married a slaver. Because Perrin and Mat got to have a reunion dinner.

24. A Gray Man attacks. I'm sorry... are we supposed to believe that this is the same Gray Man from Ebou Dar that escaped back in Mat's second chapter? Because I thought Shadowspawn (including Gray Men?) couldn't go through Gateways? Maybe this Gray Man also has Mat's non-channeling teleportation skills. Anyway, this time the Gray Man is attacking Mat just as channelers invade the command tent (so... literally proving the point that Mat had just made about how the tent was no longer secure) so Min... throws herself at Tuon to protect her? Why is Min's first instinct "protect the head slaver"? Why is Min in the tank for the Seanchan so quickly?

Min also manages to knock over Tuon's ten-foot tall throne, so it sounds like it's actually made of pretty flimsy materials. That kinda feels like an unintentional metaphor -- looks imposing but is basically paper mache. lol.

25. Anyway, this is the first time Tuon shows any shred of an actual... like... positive emotion towards Mat? (I don't count "laughing at him because she views him as a brainless sex toy" as a positive emotion) So I guess we should celebrate that. Because when everyone gets attacked, Tuon runs over to try to help Mat with the Gray Man, "growling softly in an almost feral way". Once again, I am deeply curious about the mysterious changes that happened in their relationship during that skipped over week of planning, that resulted in Tuon compromising with Mat and now appearing to actually give a shit that he might die (... or she might just be possessive and not want to lose her new favorite toy? But I will choose to extend the benefit of the doubt).

26. And, once again, Min's entire priority list seems to be Tuon. ?????? Why are you so obsessed with her? Since we're in your PoV right now, could you explain to the readers why you're so deep in the tank for the Seanchan and Fortuona? Would love a reason. Anyway, she can't reach her new-found love, Fortuona, so she slips out of the tent to see if she can help any other way, and runs into Siuan.

27. When Min tells her that she needs to go find Bryne because that's the only way she'll survive, Siuan says that she can't leave because "Cauthon is in danger." Hey, you were willing to call him 'Mat' back in book three. But anyway, she says, "If Cauthon falls, this battle is lost! I don't care if we both die from this. We must help. Move!" So. Siuan. The tent is on fire. Would you say that you were there to help Mat "when the flames are high?" Just asking.

28. Okay, there's a whole group of Gray Men attacking Mat, so we're not supposed to think it was the one from Ebou Dar. But that's a gun that never went off, now that I think about it.

29. MIN! Yelling at the terrified damane to help when her sul'dam is dead is pointless if you don't FREE HER from the collar. She isn't capable of channeling without her sul'dam's permission. You should know this. YOU WERE IN FALME WITH EGWENE! Egwene explained all of this to you! (also, I think Min left the poor nameless damane to die in the burning tent, since she would also be incapable of running away on her own if she's still leashed? Slave-masters always get rescued before slaves, after all, and Min has yet to actually voice any objections to slavery since she has joined up with the Seanchan)

30. Anyway, Min successfully throws a knife at the remaining Gray Man and Mat hauls an unconscious Tuon up over his shoulder, and we have sadly saved the head slaver's life yet again. "Never had [Min] been so happy to see a knife fly true." ????? I mean, I guess the idea is that saving Tuon means that Mat is willing to leave the burning tent but still... didn't she once save Rand's life during some event or other? Or maybe I imagined that and this is the first time Min's knife skills have ever been useful, idk.

31. Oh, and Siuan is dead. Happened when Min wasn't looking. So we traded Siuan's life for Tuon's. Not worth it. Min gets a break from being the Distressed Damsel because Rand isn't around and so Tuon gets assigned the role. I feel like... maybe the narrative should have focused on whatever it was that Siuan was doing to help there, instead of what Min did? Also, it seems somewhat convenient that Siuan died before she got a good look at Tuon, because Siuan has a Talent for seeing ta'veren.

32. I wish... I really wish that Sanderson had given us the compromise conversation between Tuon and Mat. I wish that we'd actually gotten that conversation on the page, instead of just implying that something has changed because Elayne notices the effects. Because then maybe I would also give a shit about Tuon instead of just kinda wishing that someone would let one of these assassins take her out.

33. Okay, our first ~Fortuona~ PoV since the week of planning that appeared to have led to compromises in her marriage with Mat. Let's see how things stand with little miss slaver. She refuses to be healed by damane herself, though she seems vaguely tolerant of the idea of other people being healed by them.

34. I have to roll my eyes over Fortuona thinking about how her slave-guard's 'honor' depends on her fatally punishing them for their failures. It's like how she pretended that she was the one who most regretted having had Selucia beaten a time or two back in her initial intro PoV, rather than the actual person who got their ass whipped. It's just toxic brain-vomit that speaks of how deeply conditioned Fortuona is by her culture. If she actually cared about any of them as people (she doesn't, of course; she cares about them as property that she owns) then she would care about trying to dismantle the part of their brainwashing culture that says that their lives should be forfeit if they have failed her.

Anyway, she assigns them to go off to be suicide troops in the battle. Oh, and Selucia is here now, in the aftermath, with an injury. So I guess she in the tent that whole time, it's just that no one mentioned her. Poor Selucia. She really has gone back to being nothing but Tuon's Voice.

35. Fortuona raises "Darbinda" aka Min to the Blood for saving her and Mat's life, and Min isn't impressed enough for her liking (I'm also not ever going to be using that name for Min again). "How like [Mat] she was. Stubbornly humble, these mainlanders. They were actually proud - proud - of their low-born heritage. Baffling." Have you- have you considered having an actual conversation with one of them about why? And about the name thing too -- both Min and Mat are people who actively choose to go by shortened versions of their names. Maybe ask them why they don't consider forcible re-naming to be an honor (and Fortuona should know that Mat feels that way, since she glared at him and willed him not to argue when she re-named him).

Though, of course, given that Fortuona Must Always Have Slaves Around Her at all times, having a conversation like that with Mat or Min becomes a bit trickier, because if they give good answers to her questions about why they don't care about being part of the Blood, Fortuona's slaves will hear those answers. That's a major downside to the whole "nothing is private (when you have slaves)" lifestyle that Fortuona is rocking. She probably doesn't even really understand what having privacy would be like (once again, I have to say what a huge mistake it was for Jordan to have Selucia along on the circus journey, because it meant that Tuon was still wallowing in her toxic slave-owner culture during that entire time period, because she always had a slave on tap to make sure that she kept The Mask up at all times). Because though Tuon doesn't see her slaves as people, she does always need to be The Owner when they are around (which is always).

36. Mat looks over to her and gives her a nod, to let her know that they should have their fake break-up fight now. Alas that it isn't a real break-up fight. So they fight over how Mat should have warned them all sooner that the tent wasn't safe. Interesting note: though many of the Seanchan look at Mat with "accusing" eyes after she lays her charge, Galgan frowns and Fortuona notes that he doesn't seem to agree with her accusation. "Impressive, that [Mat] had converted Galgan so quickly." Anyway, after a super-quick fight where Mat is just like "okay, fine, storm off in a tizzy if you want, see if I care"; Fortuona turns around and does just that.

37. Interesting that their fake fight actually got Mat's genuine temper up. And he wonders if Tuon was genuinely angry as well and if she will genuinely abandon the fight rather than come back as planned. Interestingly enough, Fortuona didn't have a single spark of genuine anger in her PoV. It was all her following the plan. So it sounds like the fight involved a lot more of Mat's genuine frustrations than it did Tuon's. "I've had it with you. You and your bloody Seanchan rules just keep getting in the way," does feel like a pretty accurate representation of how Mat has been feeling in a lot of the Seanchan-related scenes that he's been forcing himself to endure, yeah. But Fortuona assumed, in her PoV, that Mat was entirely acting and that none of his reactions were genuine -- "he was good at this". Mat and Tuon are still looking at each other and seeing someone completely different than the person who is really there.

38. What Mat says to Min here is also genuinely fascinating. I don't particularly like Mat & Tuon, even now, but I am finding them much more interesting (in a 'watching a bug through a glass' sort of way) than I ever found them in the Jordan books. Because Mat tells Min to "keep an eye on" Tuon and then clarifies that he doesn't mean in a "protection" way but in a "watch her" way. "She worries me, Min."

...I do kinda have to giggle at Mat saying that Tuon doesn't need protection and is a "strong one" when Mat literally just had to haul her unconscious ass out of a burning tent because she basically failed immediately when she went to go help him with the Gray Men. But, hey, I appreciate that Mat didn't let the narrative shoehorn Tuon into the role of his Personal Distressed Damsel even when it was clearly trying its hardest to force her into that position.

39. Oh, so Mat and MIN get a hug when they say goodbye. *eternal grumbles at how the ONLY PERSON who didn't get an emotionally appropriate reunion with Mat was his fucking best friend*

40. Ugh, is this where Mat starts calling her "Fortuona"? Because he's decided to take Karede's suicide troops into battle with him and Karede refuses to go with him if Mat won't call her "Fortuona"? I guess I'll wait and see if the way that he addresses her actually changes.

Anyway, Mat tells Karede to keep Mat alive "for Tuon" because he's "almost certain that she's fond of" him.

*gazes off into the distance, thinking about how everyone else that Tuon is 'fond' of is a slave that she owns and is fully willing to beat or order to their death if they fail her*

41. Bryne dying off-screen affects me a lot less than Siuan somehow managing to die off-screen in a scene that she was actively in. Elayne figures that Bryne's fit of rage that sent him running towards Trollocs and got him killed means that Siuan is dead.

Siuan and Moiraine never got to see each other again. 😭

(fingers crossed for her getting to take Thom's place as the watcher outside the cave in the show version, if we get to the ending)

42. Yeah, from what we've seen in every other PoV and perspective, Perrin is the only person who thinks that Elayne isn't good at tactics. So we can safely discount his opinion as just him being an asshole who thinks that the only woman worth listening to is his wife.

43. "The Shadow pushed with all its might. Humankind did not have days remaining, but hours."

44. A bolt of balefire attacks their camp, and Demandred loudly taunts "Lews Therin" that he is hunting "a woman you love". Of course, Rand can't respond to any of that, no matter how loudly Demandred echoes it across the battlefield with the Power. Birgitte grabs Elayne so that they can get somewhere secret and safe to regroup from, since Elayne herself is the main target now.

45. Of course, Galad can hear the threats and knows that Demandred is actively hunting his sister, so now he has twice the reason to try to kill the man -- killing his brother and trying to kill his sister. In order to get Demandred to fight him directly, Galad loudly proclaims his relationship to Rand. "[The Dragon Reborn] is not here, but his brother is!" And now Galad and Demandred will duel.

46. Mat finds out from Bashere that no one has heard from Faile. He wonders how he can possible finish off this battle without help from the Horn of Valere. ...maybe you shouldn't have deserted from the Last Battle at the start of the book, Mat? Just a thought. Mat yells at Bashere, which makes him grin and his wife give Mat a fond look -- hey, Mat, bet they'd be willing to let you be a third, especially if you yell at Bashere some more. Still healthier than your marriage with Tuon! Give it some consideration!

47. "He needed an army. And a gateway. He needed a bloody gateway. Fool, he thought. He had sent the damane away. Could he not at least have kept one? Though they did make his skin crawl as if it were covered in spiders." God, this is the first time since Winter's Heart that the narrative has let Mat openly think about how fucking creeped-out he is by damane and what the Seanchan do with them! Mat was so incredibly disturbed by the damane kennels in WH and then in CoT & KoD, he acted like it was the sul'dam who had the raw end of the deal. So, yeah, Mat's first chapter in AMoL had brain-breaking teleportation and he forgot half of his characterization until he was finally allowed out of fucking Ebou Dar (RIP any hopes of an emotionally-resonant Cauthor reunion), but we have seen, over the course of the last few chapters, the slow return of how incredibly disturbed and creeped-out Mat was over the damane system. This was the thing that Jordan essentially made Mat forget in order to get him to be willing to suck face with Tuon at the end of KoD, so it's really nice to see it coming back to life. Finally.

Maybe Min will also remember at some point how fucking awful the damane system is.

48. Oh, Mat gets to reunite with Loial now? *insert annoyed grumbles about how Mat & Rand is pretty much the only important relationship that got completely cheated by how Sanderson decided to do the plotting of AMoL*

Since I mention Rand:

Those dice kept ratting in his head. He also felt a pull from the north, a tugging, as if some threads around his chest were yanking on him.

Now now, Rand, he thought. I'm bloody busy.

No colors formed, only blackness. Dark as a Myrddraal's heart. The tugging grew stronger.

Mat dismissed the vision. Not. Now.

I feel so cheated that this ends up giving me nothing that I wanted, thanks! Why did we bother! I am vibing with so much of Mat's PoV in this book now that we're out of Light-forsaken Altara but I'm so frustrated by how much Sanderson is teasing something that I already know I will not actually get.

49. Mat gets to reunite with Teslyn here. Not that I am not thrilled to have Mat reunite with Teslyn because I am, but it does... frustrate me all over again, how shallow and limp the Cauthor reunion ended up being, all happening in the shadow of the slaver ball-and-chain. Every time Mat gets a better reunion with someone else, I feel cheated about his reunion with Rand all over again. Anyway, Mat is so happy to see Teslyn that he could kiss her. (he does not)

Teslyn is going to take Mat, Loial, & co up to the Heights. My brain wants to find something symbolic in the fact that after Mat sends away Tuon & the damane, the first channeler that he runs into is Teslyn and she is the one who is enabling all his battleground hopping as he sends out order after order.

Something, something, wrong road vs right road.

Tylin... Tuon... Teslyn. Women that Mat met in Ebou Dar who have similarly rhythmic 'T' names. Tuon was jealous of Joline but it was Teslyn who started the ball rolling on Mat helping the Aes Sedai escape Ebou Dar.

idk. Maiden, mother, crone vibes, but the maiden & the mother are both abusive?

50. Demandred and Galad duel; Demandred tries to taunt Galad about Gawyn's death in order to break his focus. Galad realizes that the main purpose of what he's doing here is keeping Demandred's focus off of the armies and off of Elayne. It's in Galad's best interests to last as long against Demandred as he can. Some more fighting happens but then Galad's arm gets cut off, and he too, has lost his duel against Demandred.

51. I've seen objections to Mat personally leading the fight at this point but -- the situation is pretty dire and his command tent was blown up. Maintaining a mobile unit and darting in and out of the battle seems like the best of the bad options at this point?

52. For the moment, Elayne and Birgitte are out of the direct line of the fight. Elayne is not currently flying her banner, but she's sent messages to her commanders to let them know she still lives. Then a fake band of refugees arrives, hiding Mellar, who still has his copy of the medallion and who is here because he is still obsessed with Elayne. She thinks here that he's "the one many people still assumed fathered her children". So Elayne sent out the "Rand is the baby-daddy" press release but some people actively chose to continue to believe that slimy Mellar was the daddy? Gross. He has, apparently, been trying to track Elayne down this entire time.

53. He kills Birgitte and the loss of the bond -- and the loss of her friend -- tears at Elayne. They also have another corpse -- a woman dressed to look like Elayne, with her hair color -- that they plan to parade around to pretend to everyone that Elayne is dead. His next plan is to cut her babies out of Elayne -- ah, this must be why we jumped her pregnancy so far ahead, so that it wouldn't be quite so ridiculous that her babies could be kept alive after this -- and TDO gets the kids while Mellar gets to keep Elayne.

54. Mat has requested that the Seanchan make their return to the battlefield but instead of doing that, Fortuona is taking some time to listen to her captains debate over the subject of returning. While people suffer and die on the battlefield.

55. ...Min thinks here, with no commentary, that a Captain Yulan "had been the one to lead the strike on Tar Valon". Do you... have any opinions on that, Min? No? No opinions. Okay, noted. Her only worry is that she's started to think of her viewings as 'omens'. She really does lose herself in other people so easily. For literally the first time ever, Min uses her viewings to try to suss out a spy. Wow, Rand would have found this extremely useful, Min! She notices that one of the random so'jihn (those are slaves, Min, btw, in case you've forgotten about the existence of slavery) has a bunch of images over her head the way that normally only Aes Sedai, Warders or ta'veren do.

56. Part of her wants to just try to stab the woman, but instead she goes to confront Fortuona, asking her to please define what a Truthspeaker is. Fortuona... reluctantly... allows that it's her job to call Fortuona out in public if she screws up. So Min turns to the Blood and says, "[Tuon] has abandoned the armies of humankind, and she withholds her strength in a time of need. Her pride will cause the destruction of all people, everywhere."

She calls out the member of the Blood that the spy has compelled while throwing a dagger at the spy -- which is caught mid-air using the Power. After Moghedien (I'm assuming) escapes, Min says that this shows that the Shadow is trying to keep them from the battle. "With that in mind, will you still pursue this course of indecision?"

57. Tuon does claim here that following this mandate that Min has pressed upon her is "follow[ing] what my heart would choose". Is that true? Who knows? At least she's going back. Tuon also seems to regret slightly that she's now placed someone into the position of Truthspeaker who doesn't have the kind of trained-in deference that Selucia had. Grass is always greener.

Question: does Tuon's 'heart' matter if she still actively chooses evil unless her feet are held to the fire? That is the sort of... moral question that I feel like should have been at play way earlier in the Mat & Tuon relationship. Sanderson is actually using the basic foundations of Mat & Tuon to much greater emotional complexity than we saw at work in CoT & KoD but because it's happened after we already saw that stagnant Tuon in those two books... it's hard for this to feel earned by the narrative. It works a lot better if I close my eyes and try to imagine that we had a better lead-up in the earlier books, lol.

58. Mat learns that Egwene has died (Blood and bloody ashes, Mat thought. Egwene. Not Egwene too? It hit him like a punch to the face.) and half the Aes Sedai have exhausted themselves too much to keep channeling but all the Sharan channelers have been taken out of the picture. Then we also witness Mat's coping mechanism in action -- when his mind wanders back to Egwene, he abruptly cuts the thought off. "No thinking of that right now". Instead, he forces his mind back to business and asks if they've gotten any new troops from Mayene, healed up and ready to fight again. Lan says that he'll check.

59. Then Mat digs in his saddlebags, pulling out Rand's banner, "the one of the ancient Aes Sedai" and he tells them, "Somebody hoist this thing up. We're fighting in Rand's bloody name. Let's show the Shadow we're proud of it."

So many things that could be said here. Frustrating how late this happens? I guess that's my main feeling here, which is a shame. I wish that it could feel more triumphant for me, but this is essentially where Mat already was before he had his weird teleportation to Ebou Dar at the start of AMoL, so it's mostly just me being frustrated that none of this was allowed to exist when Rand was actually here for Mat to interact with him. Mat's friendship with Rand disappeared from the narrative just long enough to avoid us actually getting any kind of emotionally-resonant scene between them and that just... will probably always be something that I will find deeply regretful about the choices Sanderson made in this book.

But I don't want to hold onto my frustration forever, I guess. Mat really has gotten a lot better over the last few chapters. I will choose to be glad that Mat has gotten to a better place again with Rand, even if it's still bizarre that he suddenly backtracked on him at the start of this book.

60. Mat is hoping that his luck will come through when another messager brings news. The Queen of Andor is reported dead. (Bloody ashes! Not Elayne! Mat felt a lurch inside. Rand... I'm sorry.) Just like with Egwene, though, he doesn't let any of that emotion show through to the soldiers, only asking the messenger who is now in charge of the battlefield.

61. He wonders if he might not be able to win even if the Seanchan do return. If it might not be better to let the Seanchan/Fortuona hunker down in Ebou Dar and... die anyway in a few weeks or months? lol, that's not a mercy for them, Mat. But he did just hear that two people he cares about deeply are dead, so I'll give him a little slack for momentarily wishing that he didn't have to call Tuon back to her potential death too, even if he's still never given me anything he actually likes about her besides "hot enough to have sex with".

...oh, and he then learns here that Lan disobeyed his orders and went off to head towards Demandred on his own.

But Mat moves forward with his plan anyway, even though he's fairly sure it won't be enough.

Horn of Valere Team (Faile; Olver)

Faile & co run across a camp in the Blasted Lands that is being used as a supply station for the Shadow's army.

Aravine betrays the group and is a Darkfriend. I am... struggling to remember who she is. brb, will check the wiki. ahhh, she's one of the people that Faile met while she was a captive of the Shaido; a fellow captive. Anyway, Darkfriend, and she finds the Horn in Faile's bag at this point and says that she will deliver it to "Lord Demandred". Olver gets free and stabs the woman who is keeping Faile captive.

Faile grabs a horse (miraculously, it is Bela) and gives chase after Aravine, soon joined by Harnan and Vanin. She accuses them of trying to steal the Horn but they protest that they were only trying to steal the tabac that they thought she was carrying, because Mat owes them money, and seeing the Horn in there came as a huge shock to them (which is why they dropped it and didn't take it with them when they ran).

She throws a knife at Aravine's back and recovers the Horn. She finds Olver again, but they are being hunted by the Shadow's forces, who now know they have the Horn. She gives the Horn to Olver and tells him to get it to Mat. Then she gets back on a different horse (not Bela), making sure that the sack she carries is obvious, and heads off on distraction duty.

So Olver has the Horn. He's pretty stressed because now he's all alone again, as the Darkfriends and Trollocs chase after Faile. "How brave he had thought himself. Now, here he was, finally at the battle. He could barely keep his hands from trembling. He wanted to hide, dig deep into the earth."

A Trolloc discovers him and Olver sees Bela still there and runs for her, wishing he had a horse that looked faster. He races towards where he can see Mat's banners on the horizon, but more Trollocs keep appearing. And Bela gets shot by a Trolloc arrow and goes down. He tries racing up the mountain to reach Mat's banners but they're so far away. He finds a crevasse and wedges himself into it, trying to push deep enough that he's out of the reach of the Trollocs. Poor kid. This is all incredibly traumatizing for him.

He couldn't stop shaking. He also couldn't make himself move. He trembled, terrified, as the beasts pried at him with filthy fingers, digging closer and closer.

Other Misc PoVs

We get a Tam PoV that continues to have zero acknowledgement of the whole "Tam knows he's going to be a grandfather" thing. It's just weird at this point.

Okay, what Uno thinks about Mat ("He still didn't understand why anyone would put Cauthon in charge of anything. He remembered that boy, always snapping at people, eyes sunken in his head. Half-dead, half-spoiled.") should also have been what Min remembered about Mat. The last time they both saw him was around that same time period of Falme, when Mat was deep in the grip of the dagger-sickness. This is the Mat that Min would have met!

Perrin wakes up and is told that they were able to heal him so that he wouldn't die and will recover but that's all they can do for him. Healing needs to be saved for other people too, so "your participation in the Last Battle is over". And then he goes back to sleep, but regular sleep this time.

Graendal collects Rhuarc as one of her pets. 😭

...why am I supposed to care that Demandred has feelings for women (or, I guess, A Woman)? I really have absolutely no reason to care about Demandred's love life. Why am I being told any of this? Was someone worried that readers would think Demandred was gay for obsessing so much over Lews Therin, so a "Have I Mentioned I Am Heterosexual Today?" moment was thrown in to avoid that? It does seem put in to deliberately contrast for his, uh, "burning passion that was his hatred for Lews Therin".

Another possibility is that this is a relationship meant to foil/reflect Mat and Tuon's? Shendla sounds just as willfully delusional about her future with ~her Wyld~ as Mat always sounds when he's thinking about his Fictional Tuon Girl. "Oh, just because you do evil things and control an evil army of literal horrors doesn't make you evil, darling! Just because you own slaves command Shadowspawn doesn't make you bad, sweetheart! The evil things that you do don't define you! You can do evil things and be a super-great person! I believe in you!"

We get another Tam PoV where he doesn't think at all about his impending post-Last Battle grandfatherhood.

Our third Tam PoV. No acknowledgement of Elayne's pregnancy and how Rand has been announced to be the father. We have time for Tam to run into Lan and for Lan to be all "ah, the blademaster who gave Rand his sword earned the title" but no time to think about Tam's actual upcoming grandkids. It's so weird how disconnected Elayne's pregnancy manages to be from Rand's plotline even after Rand and her entire army all know about the pregnancy and that Rand is the father! Somehow, this plotline is still only considered relevant to Elayne herself and not relevant to Rand or Tam at all????

Androl pickpockets Taim for the true seals, I think? I feel like maybe Sanderson should have leaned into the pickpocketing thing for Androl. tbh, this plotline has felt pretty pointless, lol. The Asha'man could have just been part of the army in the other plotlines and nothing of value really would have been lost.

Okay so... why are the Sharan channelers such experts in war, anyway? Because it doesn't sound like they've constantly been having civil wars, the way that the Seanchan have, so where have they been getting their experience in fighting? You can't become an expert fighter in a vacuum.

The Band has been secretly hidden in caverns deep underground so that they can work on repairing the dragons (with Aludra's expertise guiding the way, of course), waiting on Mat's order (with Asha'man and gateways to get them out again) for them to attack once more.

The Tuatha'an work as battlefield triage, going through the bodies trying to find those who are only wounded and might be saved. "The Way of the Leaf was an easy master at times, providing a life of joy and peace. But a leaf fell in calm winds and in the tempest; dedication demanded that one accept the latter as well as the former."

Raen asks Ila what they would have asked these people to do, in the face of Trollocs. Ila says that they could have run. That there was no need for them to fight here, right at the cusp of the Blight. Raen says that the Trollocs would have followed. "We have accepted many masters. The Shadow might treat us poorly, but would it really be worse than we have been treated at the hands of others?" Ila asks, but Raen disagrees. "It would have been worse. I am not going to abandon the Way, Ila. It is my path and it is right for me. Perhaps... perhaps I will not think quite so poorly of those who follow another path." Ah. They're talking about/mourning Aram. Ila says, "I shouldn't have turned my back on him. I should have tried to help him return to us, not cast him out." She had always felt as if she knew the answers in life. Today, most of those had slipped from her. Saving a person's life though... that she could cling to. She headed back among the bodies, searching for the living among the dead.

Galad ends up in the Mayane hospital. I wonder if he still has his copy of the medallion. I assume he does. Not sure when he'd have had a chance to give it back.

Ah, asked and answered. Berelain finds the medallion around Galad's neck as he whispers "back to Cauthon", so she takes the medallion and heads off at a brisk pace.

Loial and Erith take a moment to rest together before the final charge of the Last Battle. Loial has managed to take notes here and there, for a story that he'd like to pretend that he'll still get to write. "There was no harm to such a little lie."

The night grows darker as Lan charges towards Demandred and we pass our final Tam PoV of this chapter... still no mention of the fact that he knows he's going to have grandkids. (or the news going through the army that Elayne is reported dead? or anything like that?)

18. Ah, Lan was the one who received the note from Berelain with the medallion - I do not know how Galad ended up with this, but I believe he wished me to send it to Cauthon. I wish that Lan had cleared this plan with Mat tbh! But anyway, Lan does have three things here as he faces off with Demandred: one that Gawyn had (he's a Warder, with that boost in endurance) and one that Galad had (a medallion to protect him from weaves) plus he also has twenty years of experience fighting at the side of an Aes Sedai in a quest to locate the Dragon Reborn. It sounds very much like his reasoning is the same as Gawyn and Galad as well -- this is a necessary job, and I'm a person who is already here and can be risked to do that job.

19. "Lan held nothing back." He knows that he can't afford to give Demandred time to think, so he just goes for a relentless assault. Demandred does pretty quickly figure out the 'just channel things at him' trick, so Lan is dealing with dodging rocks as well. Demandred is just so certain that anyone who can hold their own against him is Lews Therin! It's honestly been kinda the comic relief of this chapter.

20. Then he uses one of the lessons that he taught Rand (that Rand used in his battle against Ishamael in Falme) -- he deliberately lets Demandred stab him so that he can get close enough to stab his own sword through Demandred's throat.

The world grew dark as Lan slipped backward off the sword. He felt Nynaeve's fear and pain as he did, and he sent his love to her.

#wot #wheel of time #wot reread #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot amol spoilers #wot a memory of light spoilers #mat cauthon #egwene al'vere #elayne trakand #rand al'thor #seanchan content warning #faile bashere #olver (wheel of time)

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hellfiresmaster · 2 years

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I’m here to ask for Mr Grant smut. Please give me the smuttiest, filthiest, kinkiest, toe-curling smut ma’am. I’m a hole for Tom Grant.

Not as smutty as I originally wanted but I got carried away and I keep going back and forth on it ajajsfhjfhh but i have snippets I edited out that I may post as a series based on this duo so 👀

Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, no mention of y/n, dry humping, groping, making out, oral sex (f receiving), a little body marking, p in v sex, bit of cum play at the end (and a hint of breeding kink if you squint)

Word Count: 3.1K

The evening cast long shadows along the ground. A warm orange light casts from the sky into your quaint trailer as you set down the last of your belongings on the counter and looked around. Recalling the fond memories that tainted each square inch of this place you once called home, now empty and cold to the touch. You never truly felt like you belonged anywhere, always an outcast searching for a home. But this place was pretty damn close. Half of your things were already settled in, and the other half scattered in boxes along the hallway; you decided enough had gotten done today, and plopping yourself down on the couch with a cup of tea was more than deserved. Just as you were about to grab a book from the shelf and let it whisk you away into a world far away from the depressing reality you now sulked in, a knock rumbled at your door. Tom.

"Ya told me to come at 6; I can come back if ya-" You quickly cut him off, assuring him it was okay and motioning him to come inside. You nearly forgot you'd invited him over after running into him earlier that day as you arrived at the park. Tom gave you a grateful smile before entering and shutting the door. You recalled the day you met Tom all those years ago. There were no facades, no preconceptions, no expectations. It was as if you'd known each other forever; time constantly blurred when you were around him. He had a way of making you forget everything wrong in the world while consuming your every thought. " 's a bit of a mess in here, eh? Need some help?"

"Oh, because your trailers all neat and tidy?" You teased, and he let out a small chuckle.

"I'll get round to it dreckly. 'M sure of it." You scuffed while setting down some clothes from your bag into the small dresser and walking back into the living room.

Tom took a seat on the couch, stretching one arm out on the backrest. He tried to distract himself from the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach from being around you after so long by glancing around your trailer. Your books were stacked neatly on a small shelf, tabs, and stickies poking out from all the notes you inevitably jotted down as you became encompassed in each story. He didn't even notice he was fiddling with a cream blanket beside him, the scent of you still so prevalent on it; he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself in it. Being surrounded by you was unsettling and comforting in the best possible way. His mind couldn't help but wonder what evenings with you would look like, laying with you on the couch with your favorite book in hand while he stroked your hair and soothed you after a long day at work. He yearned for it more than anything.

"Why do you always look at me like that?" You questioned as he sat up and leaned his head back towards the couch.

"Like what?"

"Like that." You gestured toward his face hoping he'd get the point.

"Don't think I can look at ya and not smile, birdie." His words made your heart swell. It was true. Tom couldn't remember a moment he looked at you and didn't have a smile painted on his face; he couldn't help it. He missed this; the way he felt when he was around you was like nothing else. Like the aching void inside of him, he didn't even realize was there had been finally filled after all this time.

Tom sank back into the couch, getting more comfortable and eyeing an old polaroid stashed in a small box on your coffee table with photos of an old flame he faintly recalled peeking out from the side.

"Still on about that emmet, eh?" He teased and pointed towards the box, but you physically cringed at the memories of regrets from three summers ago, trying to lodge themselves in your head again.

"That was a long time ago, Tom. Plus, think I learned my lesson, hm?" You snapped, your back now turned to him. Tom's smile faded, and regret washed over him. The memory coming back to him now, how you looked that night you showed up at his trailer, heartbroken and tears streaming down your face over a summer fling with a slimy tourist you barely knew. He recalled the anger he felt and how he pushed it to the side in order to be there for you, to hold you through it. He vowed never to let anyone hurt you that way again; he would've stuck to his word too if you hadn't picked up and left in pursuit of that so-called better job without warning all those years ago. Who knows what he's failed to protect you from now. You cleared your throat, making Tom snap out of it, not letting himself dwell on what could've been any longer.

"'M sorry, bird." He muttered almost to himself. You turned towards him with a bewildered look. "I know I been a bit of twat. Didn't mean to upset ya an' all."

"It's fine, Tommy." -- "Did ya have something you wanted to talk about? You asked to come over and all..."

"Yeah, well, I-I guess I-Shit." Tom's mouth opened, but the words ceased. He was ready; he told himself he was the second he saw you waltz into that trailer park again. He couldn't let you slip through his fingers again without telling you how he felt about you; he wouldn't. "After Ruth-after I realized-I jus'" His mouth went dry, and he forgot everything he craved to tell you as soon as he felt your eyes on him. But now you were here, in front of him in all your glory, looking as pretty as you always did, and he was stuck.

You could tell he wanted to say something important by the way he fiddled and chewed on the inside of his cheek. His breathing seemed to quicken, and by his adoring gaze, a slither of hope bloomed in your chest at the possibility that maybe he felt the same way you did after so long. You moved to sit by him on the couch, waiting for him to say something, anything, but there was just silence as your eyes explored his. "Jus' wanted to tell ya about tonight; everyone's headin' to the bar from work, 's all."

"You're full of shit, you know that, Tom?" You spit venom in your words, and your voice raised higher than you realized, which made him wince at your words.

"What's that supposed to mean? 'M full of shit?" Tom's demeanor immediately shifted as he moved a little further from you on the couch. "Maybe if ya didn't snap at me, I'd be able to finish..." He muttered under his breath, barely audible enough for you to hear.

"Well, go on then, hm? Ruth's not here clouding up that head of yours anymore, so what is it, Tommy?" You didn't mean for it to come out as enraged as it did, but you couldn't help it. It had been years of bottled-up 'what ifs' and 'what could have been,' and you were sick of it. This isn't how you pictured it. It's supposed to be easy. Comparable to lulling to sleep. This was hard. You took one last pleading look at him before speaking. "You were gonna say something else. I know you were...please."

"Bleddy, ya not gonna make me say it, eh?" He rubbed a hand on his jaw in frustration. You noticed how his jaw clenched and his breath caught in his throat. "Birdy..." You stepped closer toward him until you could feel his breath fanning your face. Tom's deep chestnut eyes bore into yours as you took him in. Your fingers craved to trace the small lines that had appeared on his face since you last saw him, no doubt traces of how the time you had been away from each other having taken a toll on him. His curls had grown slightly longer, unruly, and practically dangling over his face; you had to physically fight the urge to run your fingers through them. You took his hand in yours, giving him space and allowing him to continue if he felt the need to do so. "Worried I’ll be shit at it 's all. 'Cause of the whole Ruth stuff, ya know." Tom mumbled. "Jus' fancied ya for ages, never thought I was good enough. Then ya left, and I dunno." He paused briefly, catching himself in his own ramblings. "I love ya, bird...think I always 'ave." You beamed, but something told him your response was half appreciation and half disbelief.

Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. Tom's lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside and deepen the kiss. Your breath quickened when you felt his hands slide across your waist and cup your face on one side as he sighed into the kiss. It didn't take long for Tom's hunger for you to become apparent, with feverish hands bringing you closer until you were straddling his lap. Your hands finally tangled in his curls, breathing in as much of him as possible before he pulled away slightly.

But you couldn't stop. Not now. Not when you had him withering away into a blubbering mewling mess right under you. You snapped back into it when you felt the straps of your top fall below your shoulders, exposing your tits to him. Large palms began to knead them, pinching one already stiff nipple while his mouth worked on the other. His hips bucked towards yours, desperate for any friction you were willing to give him while he placed wet kisses on every piece of skin he could get to and soothed every bite with the warmth of his tongue, a promise of what was about to happen if you let him in. Your moans echoed off the far walls of the trailer, unable to regain control of yourself once he began to roll his hips in sync with yours. His bulge hitting your clit every time had the both of you desperate for release. You felt your wetness seeping past the thin seam of your panties and onto your inner thigh as his fingers dug into your hips to guide you.

Tom's head is thrown back onto the couch, giving you access to bring your lips to his neck, making him choke back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his best to gather thoughts. "Fuck bird, ya keep that up, and 'M not gon' last much longer." He practically mewled as you picked up your pace while his lips went back to tasting your skin. The sensation of his hands roaming your body and your swollen clit, getting precisely the pressure and friction it craved. Soft heat flushed through your veins as you pressed yourself closer to him. Tom's lips never left yours, taking every whimper and guiding your hips to grind on him steadily.

Tom cradled your face in his hands, his lingering stare and blissed-out look making you shiver against his touch. His eyes were still burning with lust as he pulled himself from the kiss and glanced up at you. His face flushed and lips swollen pink. Your eyes diverted to where you had been grinding on his lap, the obvious tent in his work pants making you bite down on your lower lip with a smirk. Tom took your chin between his thumb and forefinger to bring your gaze back to him before moving you to sit on the couch as he sank between your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulder, nibbling on the insides of your thighs. Your heart felt like it would beat out of your chest as you felt Tom's hand push your skirt up to bunch around your hips; he held your gaze and placed a delicate kiss on your already-soaked center before hooking his fingers on the sides and sliding them right off.

Tom's tongue ran sloppily along your slit, gathering your wetness only to tease but never quite get to your needy clit. Your head soon lulls back when you feel his tongue firmly press into you. One of his hands leaves your thigh to bring a thumb to your newly abandoned clit, giving skilled circles to the slick flesh.

You moaned borderline pornographically at the sensation and squirmed, but he didn’t relent. Tom just concentrated on making you fall apart under him, reveling in the soft cage of your thighs. Your chest heaved as he inserted a finger inside you, pumping and pressing against that tender spot. Tom can’t stop himself from groaning into you, drunk on the feeling of making you feel this good. Voice muffled as his cock strained in his work pants, desperate to ease the pressure; he could cum from just devouring you, and he was sure of it. If he knew you’d make these pretty sounds for him, he’d have done this much sooner.

"Right there. Don't stop." His lips circle and suck at your clit, making you moan and mewl in an entirely different way. An arch of your back is the signal he earns to keep doing what he’s doing. Tom doesn't relent as he inserts another finger when he suddenly feels you clench down on him and practically sob as your orgasm rips through you. He drinks you in and continues his ministrations. Once he knew you were sated, Tom pulled away, his chin and mouth coated in your juices as he licked his fingers clean before pulling you to stand with him.

Tom carried you from the couch and laid you on the bed before removing his shirt, pants, and boxers as he climbed over you. His cock bounced against the tuff of hair covering the lower half of his tummy, the length was definitely more than you were used to, but it had your mouth watering at the sight. Aching and red, leaking droplets of precum from the slit. Tom had you splayed out under him, hooded eyes, and already fucked out from just his mouth.

"Your fuckin' beautiful bird. 'M never gonna get 'nough of you." His fingertips traced the clasp of your bra, and you nodded, signaling him to get rid of it. He wasted no time mouthing on the soft tissue of your breast, his other hand kneading the neglected one, wet lips enveloping your nipple and swirling until your hands tugged on his soft curls. His lips moved along your neck and the skin on your collarbone, sucking and etching a trail before pulling away. Tom admired his work; he lightly kissed the purple marks adorned your body to soothe the skin.

Tom was absent-mindedly sliding his length along your slick, the tip of his swollen cock catching on your clit with every swipe that had you whining under him. He lined himself up with your entrance, eyes flickering to yours to make sure this was okay, make sure you still wanted this, still wanted him. You could sense the doubt inching into his mind, so you pulled him down into a bruising kiss, pushing your hips up to assure him, making the head of his cock slip inside. A hum of appreciation rumbled deep inside your throat.

"Fuckin’ hell." A hot jolt of energy spread inside your tummy as Tom continued to push inside you. Your heart fluttered, air leaving your lungs as you exhaled in contentment, watching Tom's eyes squeeze shut and mouth fall into a perfect 'o' at the feeling of finally bottoming out inside you. His grunts rumbled through you, growls that sent a wave of desire spiraling through your body until you were burning up with need.

"You feel 's good." Your warm, soaked walls are like velvet around Tom's cock as his hips thrust in and out of you. Groaning softly in your ear while you clawed your nails into his back from the pressure. He can feel your cunt begin to throb, wishing he could just take a second to sit back and watch you take him so well. A golden curl dangled from his head, the chill from his chain pressing on your forehead with every thrust as he picked up his pace making the coil in your center tighten further.

"Tommy.." You could feel every ridge of his cock and the heaviness of his balls slapping against your ass every time he slammed into you. An endless string fills the room as you buck your hips to meet his. Your walls clench, then flutter. "Hmph-please." Tom sees how you're struggling to string together words as your mind goes numb, slowly losing yourself to the bliss as he slithers a hand between where your bodies meet to swipe methodically at your clit, making your thighs quiver around him.

"Go ahead and cum for me, yeah? Need to feel ya, bird. Please."

That was all you needed. White hot pleasure built in your core and snapped as you writhed under him. Completely lost in the euphoria, the intensity of the sensations coursing through you, increasing pleasure with every touch, every caress, every whisper of encouragement. Tom continued to fuck you through your orgasm as he chased his own. "Fuck. 'M gonna cum. W-where?"

"Inside, Tommy. Please. I want to feel you." Something inside Tom splintered at your words, and he cascaded into his own ecstasy, spilling himself into you. He made sure to lean on one side, wary not to put his entire body weight on you before carefully pulling himself out and sitting back between your legs.

Closing your eyes, you relished the feeling of Tom's cum slipping out of you, already knowing that you were making a mess on your clean sheets. You barely noticed how he was almost admiring his work, gently taking two fingers and pushing whatever dripped out of your overstimulated cunt back inside, making you squirm away from him. Tom couldn't help it; he was proud of himself. Proud that he'd been the one to make you come apart like this. He wanted nothing more than to make you lose control again and again, to know that he was the cause of it.

"Come here." You pull Tom to lay next to you and nestle close to his chest as he puts an arm over you. "So what now?"

"Oh, 'M never letting ya leave this bed." You erupted in a giggle as Tom brought you closer to him and placed a kiss on the crown of your head. And at that moment, you knew exactly where you belonged.

#tom grant #tom grant make up #tom grant x reader #tom grant fics #tom grant smut #tom grant fluff #tom grant x you #joseph quinn

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