#then this truly needed to happen sooner rather than later.

[sgt-tombstone]

Call signs weren’t supposed to be flattering. More often than not, they were the direct result of some embarrassing fuck-up that trailed a soldier for the rest of their life. They were voted on by the first platoon that a soldier joined, usually within the first few months, and they then spent the next few months cringing every time they heard it. Simon’s first platoon had seen a recruit land the call sign “Seagull” after a drunken dare to nick a fry from their captain’s tray in the mess hall, and he had personally bestowed the call sign “Dash” upon a soldier who had somehow managed to clip himself in the leg with his own bullet. Dumb Ass Shot Himself…

The embarrassment wore off, though. When one was stuck with a name for the rest of their lives, they learned to live with it sooner rather than later. The associated stories either got buried deep or drunkenly flaunted; the stupider the better. The funny ones became a point of pride and the truly humiliating ones eventually settled into something sort of like mundanity. Amusing tales became nothing more than yet another name, a stitched moniker, an email signature. The point was: by the time they made it to the special forces, and especially once they were assigned to a task force, no one gave a shit about their call signs anymore.

Whenever Soap heard his call sign, whenever anyone asked after its origins, he laughed it off, citing his ability to clean house or, more flirtatiously, his ability to clean up after himself, but he always internally cringed.

No one ever noticed. No one except for Ghost.

He never said anything, never asked about it, which Johnny was thankful for, but he was infinitely more thankful that Ghost took every opportunity to call him literally anything else. Sergeant, at first, then Johnny. MacTavish, if he was mad; any other combination of insults if he wasn't, because they both knew he never really meant them. Sunshine, sometimes, in the mornings when Soap stumbled out of bed in whatever safe house they were staying in, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Scottish Bastard, or Our Johnny, or Pyromaniac, or Lad. Rarely Soap.

It was in his file, Johnny knew, the file that Ghost had read cover to cover, too paranoid to blindly trust Price's judgment with a new team member. Evidently, he hadn't made the connection between the incident report nestled in the sheaves of paper and Johnny's embarrassment. More likely, he just didn't care. Johnny wasn't sure which option he preferred.

Johnny had always had an issue with authority, and joining the military had done nothing to quell his rebellious streak; he was still a teenager, fresh out of basic, barely legal, the first time it happened. His sergeant had been giving him eyes for the entire two months since he'd joined, and Johnny'd be lying if he said he hadn't pushed himself just a little harder in response to the attention. The night of graduation found Johnny in the sergeant's bed, taking everything he was given and begging for more.

He hadn't seen that sergeant again after that, but it had more to do with Johnny's SAS training than anything else, and it started a bad habit. Nearly every unit he joined, he eventually ended up in his superior's bed. It was all consensual, and Johnny would be willing to attest to it if need be, but he never got caught, and he moved from unit to unit so often that it never really mattered.

Until it did.

Two years out of basic, about halfway through his SAS training, he got caught. Rather, they got caught. They were in the showers, his lieutenant pressing him against the tile wall, when their captain had walked in. The implications were clear, especially with Johnny on the receiving end, and the lieutenant had gotten discharged, despite Johnny's protestations. It had been his idea, but it still looked like an abuse of power. Word had flown around the base, and Johnny had gotten stuck with the call sign Soap as a terrible joke; "don't drop the soap" was uttered nearly every time he entered a room, and he ended up being the youngest to pass selection largely to get away from the teasing.

Once he joined the SAS, he never saw anyone involved in the incident ever again. The incident report went in his file, but it got buried among the accolades, the outstanding test results, the exceptional service record. No one except his superior officers had the clearance to read his file, which was for the best; their knowledge of his bad habit kept him from indulging, and he hadn't looked at another superior officer the same way since.

Until Ghost. Who called him Johnny, not Soap. Who tolerated and even encouraged his flirting. Who knew every detail of his file but never pushed for more.

Whenever Johnny got too close to a line, Ghost would switch back to Soap, just once, just enough to nudge him back a step, but he was never cruel. It was a slap on the wrist, not a sharp reprimand, and Johnny had learned enough about Ghost's tone and eyes to see the switch for what it was: a gentle warning, a clearly expressed boundary.

And then one of their missions went to shit, and Johnny ended up in the hospital for months, and Ghost stopped calling him Soap altogether. In the aftermath, Johnny danced closer and closer, always expecting his cautionary call sign to fall from Ghost's lips, but it never did. On and off the field, Ghost simply watched Johnny get closer, stopped holding him at arm's length. He started welcoming his flirting, started actively encouraging him, started reciprocating.

The first time they fell into bed together, something panicked fluttered in Johnny's chest. He'd been here before; he'd gotten a lieutenant wrongfully dishonorably discharged before, for nothing more than the very act that he and Ghost had been dancing around for years. The moment before their lips met, he backpedaled sharply, only to be caught by the rigid warmth of Ghost's arms.

Ghost knew. Ghost knew his past, knew his record, knew what he'd been walking into. Ghost didn't care.

Price knew. Price knew his past, knew his penchant for gravitating towards authority, and still had placed him within Ghost's grasp time and time again. Price didn't care.

And Gaz... well, Gaz was Johnny's biggest enabler. Gaz didn't care.

So he let himself take the final step, the leap of faith, and landed safely in Ghost's hold, in Ghost's bed, and in Ghost's life. Loved, satisfied, and most importantly, protected. Safe.

And if he started wearing his call sign like a badge of honor for the first time in his life... well, he was sleeping with a superior officer, and he wasn't ashamed of it anymore. Whenever Ghost looked at him, reverent, bordering on worshipful, Soap couldn't find it within himself to feel a single ounce of embarrassment over his name.

[plussizefantasia]

Unsure Hearts

Read Part One Here: Fluttering Hearts

Warnings: Reader gets grabbed, alcohol, I think that's it tbh

an: heyyyy... sorry I was MIA, lots of stuff going on I'll post an update about it soon. In the meantime enjoy part two of the Kili x reader fic from Flufftober. I think this will be a five-part fic including an epilogue and the next two parts are already underway. I've also got some requests ready to be edited and posted soon. Thank you for bearing with me, much love <3

Kili Durin x Human!Soulmate!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Thorin was getting worried, Kili had become somewhat of a ghost story over the past month. He had assumed that his nephew was simply doing his duty. Kili had volunteered to be the envoy between Dale and Erebor for the discussions of armament and training. However, that treaty was signed a week ago, and said envoy position was no longer needed. So why in all of Arda was Kili still going to Dale every day? The young prince left as soon as he was finished with his daily tasks and didn’t return to the mountain until well after the sun had set. Thorin was not worried for his nephew's safety, after all, Kili was an excellent warrior and could take care of himself, no, Thorin was worried for Kili’s heart. 

Fili had also noticed his brother’s absence but the blonde prince had always been a bit more perceptive than his surly uncle. Fili had noticed that Kili was missing, but he also noticed that every time he returned to the mountain it was with the most dopey grin that he had ever seen. A grin that he recognized, for it had also graced his face a few months ago when he met his beloved Alma. Fili would bet his beard on it, Kili was in love.

You on the other hand were getting more and more annoyed each time the brown-haired dwarf walked through the front door. He was charming sure, and polite. But he stared. At you. The whole time he was there. And he was there a lot. His attempts to engage you in conversation were far and few between, the few times he was able to grab your attention away from the bustling building he became tongue-tied the moment your eyes landed on his.

Kili didn’t understand why he couldn’t say more than a few words to you without choking on his words. Your eyes had to hold some kind of spell within them. They enchanted him and left him bewitched every time he caught their gaze. It left him frustrated, he had never had this much trouble with women before, why were you so different? Deep down he knew though, you weren’t just any woman. He was afraid though, afraid that naming what you were to him out loud would make it real. And when it is real, it can hurt you. 

There weren’t very many stories on One’s where the love didn’t end up requited, either because it just simply never happened. Dwarves were incredibly stubborn creatures after all, and it was entirely possible that they just wore down their other half until some sort of connection formed. It was also possible that those unfortunate few who weren’t able to woo their other half died of broken hearts. The former was unlikely as Kili kept having to remind himself, he couldn’t die of a broken heart. Right?

He was determined tonight though, to find out definitively if the sparks he felt for you were just interest in the handsome woman from Bree, or if you truly were the other half of his soul. To do that though he would need to say more than a few words to you. The problem with that was that you seemed exceptionally busy tonight.

Busy you were, Brant had told you last night that he was going to be leaving today to go to visit family for some type of emergency. 

“If the place is still standing when I get back, we’ll talk more about it becoming yours someday.” He had said. You were hoping that that ‘someday’ was sooner rather than later. Brant was getting up there in years. Just last week he had hurt himself trying to lift one of the barrels of ale that had been shipped in from the Iron Hills. You had been taking on more and more of his old tasks and to be completely honest, it felt like you did the job of an owner anyway, just without all the benefits.

You weren’t going to let the man down though, even if it did mean rushing back and forth all night trying to keep up with demand all by yourself.

“Another! Y/N,” was yelled in front the back of the room. Roland was a boisterous man who got along with everyone, he was only a year or two older than you and was currently on his eighth pint of the night. He had a large countenance and seemed to fill up whatever space he occupied, he was handsome but the more and more he drank the less his looks mattered. Usually, this is the point in the night where he starts bordering more on unruly rather than fun-loving. Nevertheless, he was a paying customer and as long as he could still walk on his own out the doors, you weren’t going to say no to his money.

You grabbed another pint glass and poured one for him, balancing it and several other drinks on a tray. You steeled yourself with a deep breath before running back out into the fray. 

Walking close to the stool he was sat on you leaned slightly over him and placed his pint down on the counter beside him. He was engrossed in the conversation between the large group of men, something about the best way to skin a buck, you weren’t really listening. As you grabbed his empty glass to take back to the kitchen to be washed, his large hand encircled your wrist none too gently.

“A pint is a wonderful thing, but it is even more delicious when served by a beautiful lady,” He whispered into your ear. You grit your teeth and roughly pull your hand back. 

“Now, Roland, what have we said about touching things that don’t belong to you? Huh? Touch the wrong thing and you might just lose your hand.” You spit back at him. Cutting your eyes up at the mounted swords that rest above the fireplace only a few steps from where the two of you are. “I’d hate to have to clean those swords, they are sharp.” You look back into his eyes, satisfied with the fear that you see within them. You stand back up and place your tray back upon your shoulder. 

“Anything else I can get you gents?” You question the other men scattered about the space. Silence reigned over the air for a few moments. 

“Alrighty then.” 

A pint here, a glass of wine there, and two hot meals delivered later, your tray was empty and everyone in the place seemed momentarily satisfied. 

 Letting out a breath you lean up against the counter.

“What did you say to him?” A somewhat familiar voice pipes up beside you. You turn your head towards the voice. It's the dwarf prince, and you are once again struck with just how handsome he is. You are also struck with the familiar feeling of annoyance, of course, he picked now to talk to you. Just when you had finally afforded yourself a break.

“Hmm?” You raise a singular eyebrow at him. “Who?”

“That large and very drunk man in the back, I couldn’t hear what you said but I could see the look on his face. It was similar to my brother’s when our mother would scold him for forgetting his manners.”

“That’s not too far off actually, Roland over there got a little too comfortable and touched something that didn’t belong to him, I had to remind him of the rules.”

“And what exactly did he touch that was so forbidden?” The prince smirks and laughs.

You smirk back and lift a glass to your lips before uttering one single word, “Me.”

All of the laughter drained from Kili’s face, “He touched you?” His voice had gotten much lower, his eyes darkened right before you.

 You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to stop you right there Your Highness, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years. I don’t need some man, no matter how handsome he is coming to defend my honor every time I’m even remotely slighted. The trail of bodies will get far too long.” You stare into his eyes as you speak, putting all the righteous fury you’ve got stored inside into each word. 

Seconds tick by before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I think that we have bigger problems if that is the only thing you got from that.” You took another sip.

“No, no, no I got the point, you don’t need a big strong man to come to your rescue. Lucky for you, I am not big.”

The laugh that sprung from the back of your throat caught you off guard, you slap a hand over your mouth in an impossible effort to catch it and shove it back inside. He was funny, he had never been funny before.

Kili liked your laugh even though it was closer to a snort than an actual laugh, and he would be foolish to ignore the way his heart picked up at the thought that he was the one who made you laugh.

“You- I- I have never heard of a dwarf who makes fun of themselves, in my limited experience your lot are very prideful.”

“Not as prideful as some other races, I should think.”

“No, you’re not nearly as prideful as the pointy-eared bastards who hole themselves up in that accursed forest.” Your words held a healthy amount of rage as well as teasing.

“I sense that there is a story there somewhere.” Kili raised an eyebrow, mimicking your face from earlier. He was desperately trying not to think about the fact that this was the longest conversation the two of you had had up to date.

“One that I’m going to need a lot more liquid courage before divulging, I’m afraid.”

“We can make that happen.” Kili wiggled his eyebrows and pointed at the bottles of liquor behind the bar that separated the two of you.

At that very moment, a shout from the rowdy bunch of men in the back rang out, calling for another round.

“Duty calls your highness, but perhaps I will tell you that story… another time.” You winked at him and grabbed for your tray again, beginning to load it up once more. If that is how conversations with the dwarf prince went all the time, you wouldn’t mind having them more often.  

You walked away before Kili could come up with a response, but he was more certain than he ever had been that your heart called to his. Why else would the very sight of you walking away feel like his heart was leaving too?

Read Part 3 here: Troubled Hearts

tags: @bunnybabe-babydoll @kokochanel111 @shiinata-library @oneiratxxia10

[viperwhispered]

Too Fast

Part 4 of Jamil versus feelings (aka How Not to Be Swept Under, aka the Too Much series). Let's see how Jamil's plan of action pans out. Part 1, part 2, part 3.

Jamil had a plan.

He already knew he could make you smile, even laugh. That you sought out his company - and not just to sample his cooking (or Kalim’s generosity). Like that time when Jamil had helped you with your homework - considering how little you needed the help, it seemed to have been an excuse on both your sides to just spend time with each other.

Jamil knew the foods that would bring that delighted sparkle to your eye, knew when to step in before you were overwhelmed. You often shared any news with Jamil, filling him in the little happenings of your life - and had gotten him to do the same with you, too. He’d listened to you reminisce about your childhood and your home, even knew a few embarrassing secrets you’d revealed over the course of your conversations.

In short, it was clear that you had some degree of fondness for him.

However, Jamil had yet to ascertain the exact nature of how you felt about him.

But he was certain he could pull it out of you. Nudge you to act, to talk, so that he could gather those signs to tell him if you were open for more.

He’d see if you truly didn’t speak to others the same way you did to him. If you truly didn’t give others that look which always made things so difficult for him.

There had been those times when you had blushed in Jamil’s presence. You’d flustered, stuttered, restless fingers showing your nervousness.

But Jamil needed to make sure if it was because of him, or just the situations you’d been in.

Jamil had recognized the things you were doing, how you kept on getting closer to him.

But he needed to know if it all was enough for what he wanted with you.

And if not… Well. Perhaps there was something to be done about that. Given enough time, enough attention…

He could be a listening ear, a supporting presence, get to know you further, if he needed to.

Yes, he wanted you to be his sooner rather than later, but if he had to wait and work for it, he would.

After all, it was not like him to ruin such things with haste.

When Jamil’s phone buzzed, he pulled it out without even thinking about it.

Before, he always dreaded it, his phone typically only coming to life when Kalim needed something or there was another crisis to deal with.

Yet, nowadays, there was always the hope of it being you.

Jamil hefted his gym bag over his shoulder and unlocked his phone. The basketball club had run late today, and he needed to hurry back to Scarabia - but not before checking the message.

Thankfully, you were indeed the sender.

Hey, wanna go out to the town sometime? Cater told me there’s a nice cafe that opened recently.

Another message popped in before Jamil could finish reading the first.

Like, go out as a date.

The phone slipped from Jamil’s grip, landing on the locker room bench with a thud.

“Hey, Jamil, what’s got you so clumsy?” Ace said, peering at Jamil with a teasing grin.

Jamil cursed himself internally, quickly hiding your messages from view. Normally, he would’ve been walking across campus at this time, perhaps at the dorm already, rather than under the watchful eyes of his clubmates.

But, of course, not today.

“Just fumbled,” Jamil said, struggling to school his expression back to neutral.

“You sure about that? You’re looking awfully flustered,” Ace snickered.

“Ooo, is Sea Snake getting some exciting messages?” Floyd asked, looming closer.

Jamil gave both of them a sharp glare - the effect perhaps hampered by his flushed complexion. He really did not need Floyd and Ace’s antics on top of this bombshell right now.

“Must be the effects of the practice,” Jamil said with a tone of finality.

Not that that seemed to deter the two, now that they’d gotten a taste of blood in the water.

Rather than bickering with them further Jamil grabbed his things and hurried off. He almost expected Floyd to chase after him, even half-dressed as Floyd still was, but thankfully the eel did not seem to be in that much of an inquisitive mood today.

Small blessings.

Jamil was barely aware of his surroundings as he walked, his heart beating a more frantic rhythm than it had during the practice.

How was he supposed to respond to you?

He had not even done anything as he planned, and you already…

Jamil shook his head, tried to keep himself together despite the turmoil your little messages had thrown him into.

Sure, he had intended to push you to act, to reveal the nature of your feelings.

Yet that had left Jamil woefully unprepared for this.

Jamil stared at his phone again, barely remembering to blink or breathe, nearly colliding head-first with some other students.

Finally, he typed out a message.

Are you serious?

Your reply was almost immediate.

Yes

Jamil fidgeted with the strings of his hood, watching the little bubble that told him you were still typing.

Sorry for being a coward and not asking in person.

If you don't feel the same way we can just pretend this never happened.

Oh how Jamil wished he could see your expression right now, could talk to you in person, get to the bottom of this.

Or would it be better to respond to you in text, without worries of stumbling over his words, or getting caught in your eyes like a deer in headlights?

Jamil started writing a reply, frowned and erased it, began to compose another.

He took a deep breath, briefly lifting his eyes from the phone to check where he was going.

What did he have planned for today, anyway? How much time could he clear for you?

Mind abuzz with plans, Jamil tried again.

Can I come over later? I’ll bring something to eat.

I’d rather talk this over in private first, if that’s okay with you.

A few more messages, setting the time, assuring you that he was not opposed to your proposal. Then Jamil shoved the phone into his pocket, reviewing his options.

He’d make something quick for Kalim’s dinner while preparing something to share with you. (What could he make with the time and ingredients he had that you really liked? What about dessert? He knew how much you enjoyed sweets, after all.)

Kalim had no homework deadlines or quizzes tomorrow, and Jamil’s own schoolwork schedule had room for adjustment, as well. They could catch up later. (He’d have to make sure he looked impeccable. Would flowers be too much? Would he have the time to visit Sam’s for them?)

Jamil might have to get up a little early tomorrow for a few things, but he’d deal with that tomorrow. (What if you’d let him stay late? How close would you let him tonight? Would you let him hold you? Maybe even kiss you?)

When Jamil realized that he was standing in front of Sam’s shop instead of the mirror to Scarabia, he simply stared at the storefront for a moment, uncomprehending.

Then Jamil shook his head, frowning.

He’d have to focus, keep his mind on target. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.

Yet, despite his best efforts, Jamil salted the food twice, having to scramble to fix the flavor. When he left Scarabia he nearly left behind the small package he’d picked up at Sam’s, forced to turn back to retrieve.

And when he walked over to your dorm, Jamil had to consciously tell himself to slow down, lest he’d appear too frazzled by the time he made it.

Mentally, Jamil berated himself. Get a grip! After everything Kalim has thrown your way, you can definitely handle this.

Yet, Jamil still had to steel himself before he rapped on your door.

Jamil’s greeting nearly caught in his throat when he saw you.

He could see the effort you’d put in, dressing up a little, yet more than that it was all those emotions swirling on your features that took his breath away. The nervous excitement which had you fidget in place, the radiance in your smile, the way your eyes seemed to drink him in…

Jamil cleared his throat, determined to not drown in you.

“Thank you for accepting me on such short notice,” Jamil said, handing you a small, neatly wrapped box.

With a thrilling sense of satisfaction Jamil noted the way your eyes widened, how your voice wavered when you invited him in. How you smiled when you found out what he had picked out for you, the gift clearly finding its mark.

Still, you were both stepping around each other, following the scripts of a regular visit when this felt like anything but.

Jamil took out the food he’d made, insisted he’d help you with setting the table despite your protests.

It was an awkward dance, both of you trying to regain your footing.

“I just… feel like I have to say it,” you finally said as you were setting out the food. “That I like you. A lot. So…”

The way you spoke, pouring out your feelings, hesitant and nervous as you were…

Yes, Jamil had wanted to talk this over in person, had wanted to see and hear you say it. Still, now he had just as much trouble meeting your eyes as you had, both of you busying yourselves with the tableware.

You were so nervous, and Jamil felt the urge to pull you close and chase away all your worries.

But he would not push.

Not when he had his hands full keeping his own self under control.

A part of him couldn’t help but feel like he’d deceived you, somehow, for you to hold him in such regard.

And when the silence lingered… What could he even say?

Jamil had thought of it, sure, imagined how you’d react to his words… But at this moment nothing would rise to his tongue, all the carefully picked words gone from his mind.

Jamil took your hand, holding it in between both of his. He spoke your name, oh so softly, his voice cracking under the weight of it.

Hearing himself made Jamil cringe, yet he pushed on.

“I’m… I am glad to know we both want the same. That we feel the same.”

For a brief moment, Jamil hesitated. Then he raised your hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles. His eyes flicked to yours, full of those feelings that threatened to sweep him under.

Just him being here with you like this… It told you enough, didn’t it?

Your blush certainly seemed to suggest so.

Jamil would make sure to cause your cheeks to burn brighter. Later.

Once his own face stopped feeling like a hot plate under the sun.

* * *

Later, you sat side by side on the couch, Jamil’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against him.

You’d hardly stopped smiling the whole evening, and Jamil could feel the hurt in his own cheeks. 

It was strange, giving into those urges Jamil had been doing his best to hold back all this time.

Still, he had to admit that it was easier trying to move with the current rather than fighting against it.

Yes, the looks you gave him were still overwhelming, your words - and touch - sending his heart aflutter almost painfully.

When you sang his praises, looking at him like your happiness depended on him… It really was just a tidal wave, one far too large for Jamil to withstand.

Yet, finally, Jamil was beginning to allow himself to enjoy it all.

These things - your sweetness, your warmth - were only for him, after all. A heady thought, something that made him greedy for even more despite the overwhelming nature of it all.

Of course, Jamil still didn’t want to overstep.

Truthfully, he himself wasn’t ready for some of the scenarios tugging at the back of his mind.

With the wisdom of hindsight it seemed that you had always been ahead of Jamil, more aware of your feelings than he was of his.

Perhaps even more aware of his feelings than Jamil had been, considering how you’d pursued him - because that was what you had been doing, all this time.

Even if Jamil himself had been too busy contending with his own thoughts to truly see it.

Still, it was difficult even for Jamil to worry about such things with your warmth pressed against his side. Jamil played with your hair, let himself just soak up your presence.

And in that sweet moment Jamil finally stopped fighting, at least for a moment. He let go of his plans, his resistance, and allowed himself to be swept up by you.

Indeed, it hardly felt like he had a choice in the matter.

ETA: you can find the final / 5th part of this series here. This sure stayed in my drafts longer than I thought it would, but here we are. There’s still one more part coming and then we’ll be reaching the end of this particular journey. If you'd like to be tagged in my future works, do let me know! Jamil: alright I need to make sure they want to be with me and then I can move forward Reader: I’ve been trying to get with you for a while now and I can’t wait any longer or Jamil: I gotta gain control over this situation Reader: surprise :)

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Gabe/Stephen; not on the list

For the prompt: I would say Gabe and Stephen’s wedding because I want that more than anything in the world, but I suspect that’s coming without my prompt? But if it’s not… 

It would come either way, probably, but this started the ball rolling.

More Gabe and Stephen, more lists. No actual wedding, but we get pretty damn adjacent.

Gabe knew the list would backfire the moment Stephen started making it. He even told Stephen as much, but Stephen just shrugged a shoulder and kept working on it. He got into it as it grew too, enjoying it so much that Gabe told himself he was probably worrying about nothing.

And maybe the list wouldn’t have been a problem if the only person he’d told about it was Gabe. Probably would have been fine even if knowledge of it extended to the Marksons and Petersens, which happened sooner rather than later.

But telling Gabe’s teammates — that was a mistake.

“A what list?” Jared asks when Stephen first mentions it.

“An anti-wedding list,” Stephen says.

Bryce sits up. “You guys aren’t getting married?”

From this angle, Gabe can’t see how withering the look Stephen gives Bryce is, but the kick Jared aims at his ankle is probably related.

“Obviously we’re getting married,” Stephen says, like he wasn’t panicking for a good few days after they got engaged, and only the potential wrath of Miriam Markson kept him from fleeing on the next flight out of Vancouver. “It’s a list of shit we don’t want at our wedding.”

“Um,” Bryce says.

“You know,” Stephen says. “The wedding traditions we’re vetoing.”

“We is such a strong word,” Gabe says.

“Unanimous approval or none at all, Gabriel,” Stephen says. "A veto only needs one."

He's right. And Gabe guesses he would know, consdiering he's the one vetoing everything.

“So wait, what exactly are you vetoing?” Jared says.

“Nobody’s wearing white,” Stephen says, starting to tick items off on his fingers. “I mean, white dress shirts are fine, obviously, but nobody’s a virgin here, we’re not doing any all in white shit. No flower girls or ring bearers. No little groom cake toppers. Fuck knows there aren’t going to be any garters involved. I don’t remember the rest off the top of my head, but I have it all written down."

“I like the little grooms,” Bryce says, sounding hurt. Gabe hasn’t seen any pictures from Bryce and Jared’s wedding, since it was very much on the down-low — and he truly wishes he could see how those two managed to put together a wedding on the sly when they couldn't even sit across from each other without Gabe figuring out they were married — but he bets there were little grooms on top of their cake. He also bets Bryce still has those little dudes hanging around somewhere.

“Can I see the list?” Jared asks. “I’m kind of curious how many our wedding had.”

“Sure,” Stephen says, with a hand wave. “I’ll email it to you when I’m finished. Have a few more items to add first.”

“Cool,” Jared says.

After Bryce and Jared leave, Gabe mentions it might not be a good idea to send Jared the list, but Stephen just scoffs.

“What’s he going to do?” Stephen says. “Wear white to my wedding? Put little grooms on his piece of cake? He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s not going to anything that actually fucks with the day, he’s not Dmitry.”

“Our wedding,” Gabe says.

“Oh come on, you already know what’s mine is yours,” Stephen says.

“You stabbed me with a chopstick over the last soup dumpling last night,” Gabe says.

“Stop saying I stabbed you,” Stephen says. “I didn’t even break the skin.”

“It hurt,” Gabe says, and Stephen takes his hand, planting an officious kiss on the back of it.

“Better?” Stephen asks.

“It was the other hand,” Gabe says, smiling when Stephen sighs dramatically before kissing it too.

“You’re really going to give Math that list?” Gabe says. “Blind trust isn’t usually your thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll lead to something hideous,” Stephen says. “But think of it this way: your idiot teammates are going to do something, so I may as well give them some parameters.”

“Huh,” Gabe says. “Good point.”

“I’m not exactly new to this, you know,” Stephen says.

“No, I know,” Gabe says.

At least whatever it is that’s coming, it won’t come out of the blue.

~

Gabe did not foresee this. Sure, when he gave Stevie and Dima and Bullet bachelor party planning rights he anticipated some variety of disaster, but he underestimated them, he thinks. Or overestimated them. There was some mis-estimation occurring.

He looks around. What initially looked like chaos seems oddly recognisable. Almost familiar.

It’s sort of wedding themed, which makes sense, considering the occasion, but everything’s slightly off, and not just because they’re in a venue more suited to clubbing than matrimony.

His eyes land on the big cake at the centre of everything. It looks more like the kind Gabe saw at Cup celebrations than a wedding one, decorated to look like a rink, with two little figures at centre ice. He’s too far to see the details, but he’s pretty sure they’re hockey figurines rather than grooms, and someone has decided to use the manipulable joints for, well, evil probably isn’t the right word, but maybe immaturity — Gabe’s pretty sure one of them is straddling the other. He guesses he should just be grateful no mounting is taking place, considering Dima’s probably the responsible party.

There are so many elements, and they don’t seem to fit together at all — elegant baskets of flowers that look almost painstakingly put together, surrounded by a scatter of rainbow confetti that feels like it's moonlighting from a completely different event. Some kind of crooner — Bublé? — playing, also from a completely different event. None of it seems to fit Gabe's picture of a bachelor party planned and attended by hockey players, even if the wives and girlfriends present also got involved in the planning.

It’s the guests themselves that help Gabe put it together. There was clearly a dress code, one that only Gabe and Stephen weren’t informed about, everyone all in white, neon bright under the black light. Like an item of a list come to life. Like one of many items of a list come to life.

He can see Stephen put it together a mere moment after he does, his eyes narrowing, mouth going flat. Playing at unimpressed for the — many — eyes currently on them, avidly waiting for a reaction.

“I’m going to fucking kill Jared,” Stephen says, and Gabe decides not to tell him just how proud he sounds.

“I wonder which one of the Canucks is wearing the garter,” Gabe says, and grins when Stephen forgets his audience and his composure for a moment, throwing his head back with a laugh.

[beruxyz]

| ᴡʜʏ ғᴀʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ?

ɢᴇɴsʜɪɴ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ x ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ's ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ɢɴ)

Characters = Jean, Lisa,

-ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs = "This is my first ever fic, So it may be trash.", Not-Proofread, Slight-Angst, Short.

𝙹𝙴𝙰𝙽 - 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

- Hardworking, Reliable Jean. Always one to never back down on her words but fail to back down when needed. She is as strong as she looks, She is the Acting Grand Master for a reason.

- Though, Even if she is strong, She has her own set of problems. And no, Not just the paperworks that seem to pile up each and everyday.. 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

- It's not that she hates you, No no. You're the creators child! An heir of their maker but.. She can't help but feel as though this is a dream, Being the lover of the heir of the entirety of Teyvat? That sounds like a fantasy.

- She feels as though you deserve better, Someone smarter, Stronger, more reliable than her. She can't help but think little about herself whenever you stand beside her, She loves you, oh so very dearly, But. Do you truly love her back?

__-____-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-___-_

"My dear..?" The muffled voice coming over from the closed, Locked door of Jean's office. She has sucluded herself inside, She didn't want you to see her in such a state. She didn't want you to see how weak she is.

A knock comes from the door, Twice, thrice. Sooner or later, Jean was already in front of the door. Contemplating whether to let you in or not, To let you see how vulnerable she was to thoughts that resembled those of the abyss.

"(Name)... I'm.. I'm sorry." Jean softly speaks out, Clutching her chest tightly as she held back her tears. "Jean, Open the door. Please, Let's talk." The muffled voice speaks out, The same level of softness with Jean's. The dandelion knight just obeyed without a thought, Opening the door slightly ajar to let you see her.

(Name) quickly comes inside upon seeing her current state, Closing the door behind themselves as they quickly cupped Jean's face.

"My dear? Has something happened? Please, Tell me." (Name) spoke gently, A worried look on their face as Jean just smiled slightly at the God's worry. "No, No. Im.. Im fine." Jean whispered, A small huff of tiredness escaping her. "Im just.. Wondering, 𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎?"

"Because, You're the only one that sees me as me, Not 'Creator's child'. Not 'Teyvat's Next Ruler'. Just me. I love you. I love you very much, I will never get tired of repeating it to you. I love you so much, Jean."

𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚊 - 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗

- "The flirty librarian of the Knights of Favonius". Everyone just sees her as that, Nothing else. No one realizes just how much depth and character her personality has. Mondstadt citizens love her, fear her or anything in between. But they barely even know her.

- Lisa, A name that strikes fear to those that have faced her wrath when they didn't bring back her books on time. A name that strikes others with amazement upon having the knowledge about her past with Sumeru, being the Alumna of the Akademiya.

- People that has a facade often crumbles to pieces upon having the thoughts of not being good enough, Lisa is no exception. Even she feels like she doesn't belong for you, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 for you.

- A thought that corrupts and takes over her mind, Even when it all started small. Even when she just laughed it off at first, It clawed her mind. The doubts, The judgement of herself slowly getting to her thoughts.

- But she would never tell you, She wouldn't want to burden you with mortal problems as that. She would rather eat herself inside out than making you worry for her.

__-_____--_-____-_-_-_--__-_-_-_-_-_-_

"Dear? You have been quiet for some time. Is anything wrong? You can always tell me." The God spoke with helpless worry, Holding onto a book that they were just about to put back on the shelf.

"Oh. Nothing is wrong love, Just thinking about the citizens that still haven't returned with their books." Lisa spoke with serene calmness, A facade she has mastered with your help, Unbeknownst to you.

She loved you, She loved you for being nice, caring.. Naive. She loved that you didn't question her too much, She knew your naivety would put you in danger, But it's nothing that she can't fix.

"Oh, Like Donna?" (Name) asked while facing the shelf, Putting the book back to where it belongs before walking over to Lisa on her table. "Yes, Love. Like Donna, But she'll come of course. Ive already shown her what I'd do if she doesn't return back for the 4th time." The mage spoke with a calm yet scary smile on her face. Maybe it was just the doubts returning back to her, eating her mind alive, But if Donna doesn't come back with the book tomorrow, Lisa might accidentally let her boiling hot exasperation on her.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘐 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘩-𝘣𝘺𝘦

[signedreality]

BY GOD I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, EVERY TIME I SEE ANYTHING PUBLISHED I LITERALLY FLIP OUT 😭😭❤️

BUT- I have like the tinniest, and nothing specific request.

Perchance, may I get an established relationship Alastor x reader who is very expressive with their face. I just feel like it’d be the best source of entertainment for him tbh.. Like, Imagine hitting the rock face when he says something gruesome. Or like the most exaggerated shock face. Or just having the reader wiggle their eyebrows for no damn reason at him... (I just am in dire need of something I can relate to..)

Anyway, I just have to say once more I truly do love your work, it’s like a reward seeing you post.❤️💗

ᯓ       EXPRESSIVE

        alastor x reader

ଳ synopsis ; alastor with a reader who's fairly expressive.

ଳ warnings : romance, petnames, mentions of gruesome things, and alastor being silly.

ଳ missive ; i'm delighted to hear you enjoy my broadcast, and i do hope you enjoy! thank you for your sweet words!

now airing ; posin - glenn gatsby

༄.°       the world is a stage, and the stage is a world full of entertainment. in this case, alastor's entertainment is your expressive ways.

༄.°       when he first met you, he was caught off guard by how expressive you were. everything you did had a facial expression to go with it. you were more animated than the cartoons alastor never bothered to watch.

༄.°       of course, since he found your expressions so amusing, he'd note all the things that occurred to make you react.

༄.°       when he talks about gruesome things? he notices how your eyebrows seem to raise while your eyes practically bulge out of your head.

༄.°       when you're shocked? your mouth falls agape while you place your hands on the sides of your head.

"that was a rather interesting outing..." alastor purposefully mumbled so you would hear his words, and with just his luck, your head perked up at the sound of his voice.

"what happened?"

with your question, alastor's grin widened while he tapped the microphone on his cane. "nothing much, my dear! i just simply saw vox breakdancing in the middle of the streets!"

"YOU WHAT!?" to his joy, your scream rang out through the hotel while alastor stared at your expression.

your mouth fell agape within seconds, and you placed your palms on the sides of your head—alastor letting out a chuckle at your action. "DID YOU ACTUALLY SEE THAT!?"

"i'm afraid not, dear—" alastor snickered as a frown replaced your shock, and you crossed your arms in irritation. "i was just pulling your leg..."

༄.°       and this would happen constantly.

༄.°       fibs would be spewed for his enjoyment just so he could see you react, and despite the many times he would do this, you'd still continue to give him reactions.

༄.°       but one day, you gifted him an expression he didn't expect.

"you wouldn't believe it, cher—" alastor's words were cut off as soon as you were standing in front of him, and he noted the way your eyes traveled his form.

"did you change something, alastor? perhaps a new suit or whatnot?" the tone in your voice made the man tense while he noted the gleam in your eye, "because i must say you look handsome—"

and when you wiggled your eyebrows, that about did it for him.

༄.°       after that, alastor figured out that you would constantly flirt wit him, and with your flirts came a new expression he has never seen on you.

༄.°       a very smug one.

༄.°       sooner or later, he flirted back with you all the time just to see that smug look on your face.

༄.°       only for him to hope to wipe it off one day by sealing your lips with his.

⤷ word count ; too lazy to count

© signedreality

🌊        reblogs + hearts + comments are appreciated !

listeners : @simpingoncarmensandiego @ari-hatake24 @heartfeltcherie

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

“And here we are! Mister Gadling if I may introduce you to the owner of this estate, Lord Morpheus Endelas?'' The portrait of a severe looking man hangs at the top of the staircase, with an ornate golden frame. It is the only thing occupying that wall. 

It looks lonely. 

“Lord Morpheus? So, if he is the owner of this estate, why is his sister the one rushing to sell it? Where is he?” Hob asks, confused.  

“Nobody really knows. He was quite the renowned painter at the time but went missing at the peak of his career months after his only son died in a tragic accident,” Mister Edwards explains. 

Hob’s heart clenches in sympathy, as if to lose one’s child seems horrible enough, but to be expected to carry on after such a loss seems unthinkable to him.

“Hold on, missing? Missing implies that he is still out there! Doesn't he get a say in what happens to his state? He could come back and rightfully unleash his wrath upon us for going through with this! Sir, you have to understand that if I am to take up this job offer I need to know I’m not risking my entire career and reputation over it.”

He feels perplexed “Wasn't anyone else concerned about this? How is picking apart a missing man’s home and selling all his worldly possessions to the highest bidder even considered acceptable? What was the Endelas family even thinking? The man lost his only child, surely he just needed some time away?” It didn't seem unreasonable to Hob. 

He didn’t like it. Something about this felt wrong.

“It is believed even by his own remaining family, that Lord Endelas killed himself. Saying he is missing is the polite way to not address the fact that no body was ever found! Even before his son’s death he was infamous for his melancholic moods and tendencies towards neglecting himself to the point of damaging his own health significantly. So I’m hardly asking you to do anything immoral here! You are a good man Mister Gadling, and if the thought of taking this job distresses you so much I will accept that and find someone else to do it, but Lady Endelas wants this to be done sooner rather than later and I think you are the best choice for it.”

Hob turns his attention back to the portrait and contemplates for a moment.

He truly did look lonely up there.

“I will give you my answer tomorrow morning, Mister Edwards,” he concludes. 

“That’s all I ask for Mister Gadling, for you to consider it. Thank you.” Edwards inclines his head and promptly turns around, heading back downstairs.

Hob looks helplessly at the portrait of Lord Morpheus, already knowing he will take the job come morning. 

Damn him and his bleeding heart.

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

Ta-dah! illustration that's part of my gothic romance dreamling AU for @dreamlingnation spooky event !! the prompt that inspired this was "cursed painting" the comic pages for the ficlet above are already in the works so stay tuned for that and more!

special thanks to @academicblorbo for helping me edit this, you are the best friend!

[heavyhitterheaux]

Heart's Desire

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You have the difficult task of telling your parents that you're moving to Atlanta with Jack and Urban and it becomes clear to you the desire to prove to them that you're making the right choice

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader (baby Jack and baby FL)

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The television was on a low volume as you and Jack were laying down in the bedroom with his arms wrapped around you as your head rested on his chest with him stealing kisses from you every few minutes.

It had been a long day of packing up your apartment to anticipate the move to Atlanta since Jack had gotten signed to Generation Now. The goal was for the two of you as well as Urban to move in the next three weeks. Some of your things had already been taken to your apartment in Atlanta in the hopes that you all wouldn't have to move so much at one time. There was just one problem.

The fact that you hadn't told your parents yet and Jack had no idea.

“Babe, you have to show me all your favorite spots once we get to Atlanta. Are you excited?” Jack asked as he looked down at you.

“Yes and I definitely will. Louisville has grown on me but I missed it so much. So I'm happy to be moving back.”

“We'll leave around 6 am or maybe earlier so I guess we can see our parents the day before. What did they say when you told them?”

“Umm, about that….” You started to say and then trailed off.

“What's wrong?” Jack asked as he played with the ends of your curly hair.

“I still haven't told them.” You mumbled into Jack’s chest and he couldn't make out what you had said.

“What was that? You have to speak up, baby.”

“I still haven't told them.” You said louder and Jack looked at you in disbelief.

“BABY! We are literally leaving in a matter of weeks. So, they're just going to come over one day to see our apartment empty and us missing?”

“I know! I know it's bad! But…. I just have a bad feeling.”

“About what? Us moving?” He asked, trying to get more information out of you.

“No, telling them about it. My mom really more so than my dad. I feel like he would be fine with it. She won't be.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I… it's just a feeling that I have. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know that she's not about to take it well.”

“But you need to tell them as soon as possible. You're technically an adult so it's not like they can really tell you no that you can't go and you're married, but they don't know that part yet.”

“And they're definitely not going to find out until we want them to know.” You replied while sitting up.

“Sooo, when are we doing this? Preferably sooner rather than later.” Jack asked as he sat up with you and rubbed your back.

“Tomorrow I guess. Just drop me off and if it goes to shit, I'm walking across the street to Maggie and Brian.”

“I don't think you're giving your mom enough credit.”

“Maybe you're right but we just have to wait and see. I want to be wrong about this whole thing, truly I do. But I don't know.”

“In the meantime, you need to get some sleep. Come here.” Jack said as he opened his arms so you could lay back down on his chest. He reached over to turn off the lamp that was perched on the bedside table while you grabbed the remote to turn off the tv.

“Baby?” You said after a few minutes of you two laying in silence.

“Hmm?”

“Your entire life is about to change.” You answered as you traced his features with your pointer finger.

“Correction. Our entire lives are about to change. You know wherever I go that you're coming with me. We're a package deal and we really are now that we have rings on our fingers.”

“I know I tell you this all the time, but I am so proud of you. I knew all of your hard work was going to pay off. Even when you didn't believe it yourself and at one point wanted to give up.”

“But I knew better because you wouldn't let me.”

“Because I knew how important this was to you and what it would mean when it actually happened.”

“If I'm honest, I'm actually nervous as hell.”

“Why?”

“I just want everything to play out how it's supposed to. I mean you hear stories of the industry and what can happen. If this doesn't work out what the hell am I going to do? I literally won't be able to support the both of us.” Jack confessed as his worries were now coming up to the surface.

“Okay, stop. You're making yourself upset. First off, we're not thinking like that because it will work out. They obviously see how talented you are and see your potential just like I do. It's going to work out and then we can look back and see that there was absolutely nothing for you to worry about. However, if the worst comes to worst and we come back here as long as I'm with you, we're going to make it work.”

“You really love me, huh?” Jack asked as he cuddled you closer to him and leaned down to kiss you.

“More than you could ever imagine. You mean the world to me and I will always be here for you.”

“Well the feeling is mutual.”

“There's just one thing that's going to suck when we do move.”

“What's that, babe?”

“Now we really can't wear our rings. I mean we barely wear them now, but it's going to be close to nonexistent. They have to market you to appeal to a certain audience and are going to push the single narrative.”

“Well they can forget that. You are my top priority and they'll just have to deal with it.”

“I know.” You said while laughing. One thing that Jack didn't play about was you and your well being. Wherever he went, you were going too.

“Okay, last thing and then we really need to go to sleep.”

“What's wrong pookie?”

“I'm going to headline Forecastle.”

“I'll do you one better. One day you're going to be headlining your own festival.”

“You really think so?”

“We've made it this far, right? So what's one more thing?”

It was 11 in the morning when you and Jack were sitting in his car outside your parents house. It was the fact that you had gotten there at 10:30 and still hadn't quite made your way inside. Jack was probably on his fifth pep talk at this point, but he didn't mind if it was going to help you feel better. He planned on dropping you off and coming back whenever he finished what he had to do.

“Baby girl, I'm not trying to rush you but…”

“I know. I'm going.” You said as you were fidgeting.

“Baby, you have said that for the past thirty minutes.” Jack quietly said while looking over at you.

“You're going to throw me to the wolves.”

“Baby, those are your parents that YOU lied to. Not me.”

All you did was sigh before responding to him.

“Promise to get lunch afterwards? If this goes to shit?”

“Of course sweetheart. Anything you want. But, you need to take off your ring. And if it doesn't take me too long, I'll just get pizza and bring it back here.”

You glanced down to see that you had forgotten to take it off before coming here and quickly slipped it off and handed it to Jack for safe keeping.

You sighed and Jack quickly cupped your face in his hands and gave you several kisses after putting your ring in a safe place.

“Whatever happens, it's you and me forever alright?”

You nodded your head as Jack kissed your nose and pinched your cheek making you laugh.

“Okay, here goes.”

Once inside, you were sitting across from your parents and they were waiting for an explanation from you ever since you said that you had something to tell them. When you had first gotten there, you made brownies with your mom as you all sat around the kitchen catching up. An hour and a half had passed and you figured that it was time to get it over with.

“Okay, Lil Bit, where's the fire?” Your dad asked as he laughed and you were looking everywhere but their eyes.

“Umm…”

“Baby girl, what's wrong?” Your mom asked and that was when you blurted it out, ripping off the bandaid.

Because it was either now or never.

“I'm moving back to Atlanta with Jack and Urban is coming with us.”

At that moment, Jack walked in the front door holding three pizzas and stopped in his tracks when he noticed that all eyes were on him and had a feeling that you had just told them.

“Umm, I'll put these in the kitchen.”

Your parents were quiet for a few minutes, but your dad was the first to speak as Jack came back and sat next to you.

“When?”

“In like a few weeks.”

“A heads up more than a few weeks before this was supposed to happen would have been nice.” Your dad told you as he looked confused.

“That's what I told her.” Jack quietly said and you eyed him.

“Wait, what are you two going to do to make money? And where are you going to live?” Your mom asked the both of you.

“I know, but I was nervous to tell you.”

“I already have a job lined up for when we get there. It's at Chick-fil-A.” Jack proudly said, but it didn't look like your parents were pleased.

“And how are both of you supposed to survive off of that? And wait, how did you even get approved for an apartment? Neither of you have credit.”

“Well Aunt Keisha signed for us since she knows the landlord of the apartment building.” You explained, but it looked like your parents were getting more pissed by the second.

“She what!?”

“Well you asked us what our plan was and we told you!”

All Jack did was look back and forth between you and your parents.

“Mom, Jack got signed to Generation Now. This is huge for him and I'm going to be supportive of this.”

“Being there is what got Danielle wrapped up in whatever she was doing and…”

“I'm not her so why compare me? It's not like I'll be there by myself. We have plenty of family there to look out for us.” She would tend to bring up Dani's past but would never go into details so you had no clue what she was referring to.

“That isn't the point, Y/N!”

“Why are you so against this?” You asked her and she took a deep breath before responding.

“Let's be serious for a second. Jack got signed, okay fine. But that does not guarantee anything. Jack, no offense.”

“Um, none taken.” Jack quietly said as he took your hand in order to try to get you to remain calm.

“Your college fund is literally just sitting there.”

“I'm not going! We already talked about this. Why don't you just give it to me so I can be able to pay for things when we move?”

“For you to blow through it and then come back begging for more when things don't work out?”

“Ivy….” Your dad started to say but all she could focus on was what you were telling her.

“Do you not have any confidence in me? That isn't going to happen. I write songs and produce music so it's not like I won't be doing anything.”

“And you know how the music industry is. I just want to protect you! And if it doesn't work out, what's the back up plan?”

“I am now an adult and I can make my own decisions. No matter what you say, I'm doing this. But, I would rather do it with you being supportive of me. And I haven't got a back up plan because this is going to work.”

All your mom did was scoff before letting out a sarcastic laugh.

It was at that moment that tears started to prick the corners of your eyes.

“You don't think we can do this, do you?”

“Hmm. It clearly doesn't matter what I think because your mind is made up, so there's nothing left for me to say. Jack please know that this isn't anything against you.” Your mom said as she got up from the couch.

“Wait, mom? Where are you going?” You asked as you lowkey started to panic.

“Have fun in Atlanta.”

“Mommy, I….”

“Like I said, have fun in Atlanta.”

Once she was out of earshot, your dad made his way over to you and brought you and Jack into a hug.

“Just give her some time. She'll come around. Make sure you two send me the address of the apartment and all the details. I know how important you are to each other so there was no talking you out of this. Even if I don't like the idea very much.”

“She's mad at me.”

“She's not. Reality is hitting her that her youngest is growing up and she doesn't quite know how to process all of it. But whatever you need, we'll give it to you without a second thought. And Jack, you better take care of my baby girl. I know you will, but I still have to threaten you.” Your dad said and let out a small laugh afterwards.

“You know I will and that she's not going to want for anything.”

Your dad nodded his head and when he glanced down at Jack’s left hand, he noticed that he was wearing a wedding band, and simply smiled to himself.

Deep down, he already had a feeling but wasn't going to say anything until you two did and made sure to keep this small observation to himself.

He figured that the two of you had been through enough with everything that had just happened.

Once everything was settled, you, your dad, and Jack sat around the kitchen and ate pizza while explaining your plans about what you two were going to do first when you got settled in Atlanta. Soon, it was around 3 in the afternoon and you two decided to see if Jack’s parents were home and knew that only Maggie's snickerdoodles were probably the only thing that could fix how you were feeling at the moment.

After saying goodbye to your dad, you and Jack went across the street when you saw that Maggie's car was in the driveway and knocked on the door because Jack had mysteriously lost his key again. Once she opened it and saw the look on your face, she moved to the side to let you in and all of you went and sat in the kitchen.

She poured both of you a glass of strawberry lemonade and sat a plate piled high with snickerdoodles in front of you and Jack and you slowly began eating as she asked you what was wrong since neither of you had said anything.

“Why are the two of you looking like that?” She asked, but all you did was stuff another cookie in your mouth as you waited for Jack to answer for the both of you.

“Umm, Y/N's mom isn't really happy with us moving to Atlanta and she's obviously upset by it.” He answered as he went to grab a cookie from the plate. Your eyes went wide as you noticed him reaching for it with his left hand and quickly grabbed it and put it under the table and Jack looked at you confused.

“Hmm, she just sounds concerned and her feelings are valid. But it's not like you haven't lived there before.”

“She's not confident that I can make a name for myself.” You quietly said and you mouthed ‘take off your ring’ to Jack and his eyes suddenly went wide.

He slipped it in his pocket before going back to the plate to grab a snickerdoodle and was praying that Maggie hadn't noticed.

“She just wants for your future to be secure is what it sounds like. I know that it probably hurt to hear her say those things but whatever happens, we're all going to support you no matter what.”

“You don't think this is a mistake, do you?”

“I think that sometimes what I want for my children might not be what they desire in their heart to do. My job as a mother includes supporting you, even if I may not like the idea. But good thing that I do. You two are going to be just fine and I know it. I can't hold your hand forever.”

You started to play with the ends of your hair as you thought about what Maggie said and knew that she was probably right. That didn't mean that your feelings still weren't extremely hurt by what was said by your mother, but the best thing to do in the end was to prove her wrong.

Nothing was going to get in your way of making sure Jack became famous and was known all around the world and you wouldn't have to beg your parents for anything.

When the two of you were back in Jack’s car after visiting with Maggie, you let out a sigh before you heard Jack from beside you.

“Do you think she saw the ring?” He asked as he gave it to you to slip it back on his finger and he did the same thing with yours.

“I don't think so. I mean she would have definitely said something if she did.”

“That means I had it on at your parents house too. Fuck!” Jack exclaimed as he laid his head on the steering wheel.

“That wasn't even their focus so don't even worry about it. We have bigger things to deal with babe.” You told him as you rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him.

“I'm sorry they made you upset. I feel like I pushed you to tell them and now I feel bad about the entire thing.” He told you as he started driving back to your apartment.

“It had to happen sooner or later. And don't feel bad. I shouldn't have waited so long to do it.”

“But now I see why you did.”

“It's all going to work out in the end despite what may have happened.” You told him as you were doing your best to try not to cry.

The person that was always in your corner and was your biggest supporter ever since you could remember basically shot down your dreams and told you that she didn't have an ounce of confidence in you and what you could achieve.

As far as you were concerned nothing else needed to be said between you and your mother. That was the way she felt and you just had to accept it.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?” Jack answered as he turned to look at you while the two of you were sitting at a stop light.

“Why wait to leave in three weeks? Let's leave now.”

“Wait, like now now!?” Jack asked as he looked at you in disbelief.

“The sooner, the better so I can get started on proving her wrong.”

[ethansluvbot]

hotch unconsciously favouring new bau!reader and she doesn’t even notice 😭😭 she just thinks he’s super sweet and everyone is like 🤨🤨 where’s our special treatment aye?

WHERE DO WE GO NOW | A. HOTCHNER

warnings: mostly fluff, but a kiss?

an: SORRY I TOOK SO LONG HOPE YOU LOVE IT, ignore how bad im at writing like technical fbi stuff lol

as he returns to his seat on the jet, hotch gives you a pack of food and some water. you put your earplugs back in after grinning and thanked him. morgan smirked at his boss's strange actions, but he remained silent.

"all right, let's briefly review the case's facts. while morgan and prentiss travel to the M.E., jj and reid head to the crime site. y/n and i will head over to receive a briefing. okay, everyone, let's get going."

you smooth your dress down and collect your belongings, trailing hotch in the process. as soon as you enter, he opens the door for you and goes inside for a briefing.

"the victim's boyfriend last spoke with shelby at 9:02 p.m. we spoke with the bartender at jack's bar, where she was around for the majority of the evening at 9:30. we are currently obtaining the security footage from her. tell my staff or me if you need anything."

spencer said as he left the room, "i'm going to call garcia and ask for access to the security cameras sooner rather than later."

"how's jack doing?"

"he is doing well! he does, however, truly miss you, especially your homemade chocolate chip cookies."

"does he miss the cookies or do you?" you chuckle.

Thinking to himself, "I will not answer that question," you smile and wondered who else he let his guard down for. we was always open to you, even though he never discussed his past with others.

"what would you say about you, jack, and I visiting the aquarium? ever since you got him that ipad, he has been telling me about dolphins, and i get texts all the time."

as he takes a sip of coffee, reid enters the room and says, "garcia has found the camera footage. what did I ruin something?"

1 HOUR LATER

"as of right now, it appears that the unsub prefers women who are between the ages of late 20 and early 30. Every victim carries a huge risk, and I think he enjoys the possibility of exposure. kidnapped from bar parking lots despite the fact that his face is constantly hidden. he has a dark-colored van and it's clear by the signature he injures the victim, since he has a long-term damage of his own.

"y/n i would prefer if you would lay low on this case, you fit the profile and i don't want anything to happen to you."

"are you certain? given the profile, it could be the greatest option for us."

he nods while leaning back in your chair, knowing that he thought too highly of you to see you be in harms way. you have no idea how much more than you realized he cared for you.

"fine, do not put yourself into a situation where you know it will end bad."

the remaining members of the team carrying on the discussion regarding the unsub's actions. garcia chiming in with men who match the description. you gently brush your hair away from your face and glance at the hotch. even though you quickly avert his gaze, you can still feel his eyes on you.

"i'm sorry to break this terrible news, but I believe there is a match for this suspect. i'm sending you travis's records and the last two address on file." the group leaps up and sprints towards the available cars. together, you and hotch jump into the car navigating your way to his address.

you get out of the car as soon as you get there. as you search the house, some of the team arrives, and you head upstairs. Your mouth is grabbed by a hand and you are slid into a room. you fall as a result of your head slamming into the wall.

you were able to get up and cause him to lose his balance by kicking the back of his knees. your body reverts to its limp form. travis limps his way back toward your body. there's a shot, and you reach for your gun. You turn to face the hotch, who is gripping his gun.

You say, "thank you," as he helps you leave the house. doctors are rushing to your side right away. hotch stays by your side throughout the whole thing. It is a blessing to have someone who is as concerned as he is.

He asks in jest, "so you still up for the aquarium?"

TINY BONUS

With your earbuds in but the volume down enough to hear the entire conversation, the team continues to tease you on the flight back. "Where's our special treatment?" you chuckle to yourself in private.

[rockingrobin69]

That Fucking Curse

crack, 3333 words, find it on AO3

Harry looked down at his dick.

“Call me Richard,” it said in a low, self-pleased whisper. Harry smacked his head against the wall harder.

“This isn’t real,” he told himself, out loud. His own voice was high and scratchy in his ears. He needed a drink. He needed to lie down and maybe to, er, die, or something.

“I assure you it is, my boy,” said—said—the thing peeking from his trousers, and what, the fuck, was even happening?

“What,” said Harry.

“It is as real as you or I. As real as us both. You can feel me, can you not? In your hand.”

Harry released it as if struck, biting down on a scream. His cock bounced once, and gave him an almost accusatory look, which—what. His cock didn’t have eyes to give any sort of look with. Harry was rather certain it could not in fact give him a look.

But it did, sort of, a withering one, and Harry slumped all the way down to the floor on a sigh. He rubbed his face until it tingled. A curse, he thought, bleakly. He got himself cursed with a talking dick. This was so far out of the usual that it almost seemed plausible.

“Unsatisfactory,” said the thing with the voice. “Harry. You cannot just leave me like this.”

“Leave you,” Harry echoed. His head felt oddly light.

“Do not!” with a tinge of urgency. “It is in poor grace to keep a man hanging.”

Harry made a sound, high in his throat. Not quite laughter. “A man,” he said. “You are not a man. You’re a cock. You’re a talking, whining cock who’s talking to me and making absolutely no sense. And you’re attached to me. By flesh. And you are talking. And you are a cock.”

“I have a name, you know,” huffed the talking cock, and Harry—lost it. Chuckling helplessly into his palm:

“A name!” he nearly yelled, hoarse, “you have a name!”

Another bounce made him gasp. “Yes. It is Richard, as you well know. Take good note of it, Harry. Sooner or later you will do as I tell you, and it had better be sooner, or we will both be quite unhappy.”

The chuckling became raging laughter, reedy. “Bossy,” he whispered to no one in particular. “My cock is so bossy.”

“Your cock,” said his cock, “is Richard, and he is chagrined, seeing as you refuse to heed—”

“My cock,” Harry said, louder. He was heaving for breath. Could not get it to fit inside his flailing lungs.

A moment or longer passed like that, the only reminders that Harry was still alive in his squirming belly, in his hiccoughing chest, in his hard, aching cock. Richard was hard. The thought alone sent him deeper into hysterics.

“Will you—” when Harry was wailing, “—just, listen! I am sick and tired of the neglect. You have to let me find release. You must, or else we go mad. I can help you. I can make it so good for you. Harry, let me.”

“Mad.” The whole thing was… he sighed. “Go mad.”

“Yes!”

“You mean, madder than my cock talking to me.”

“Yes.”

“Madder than my cock deciding its name is Richard.”

“Quite so.”

“Madder,” Harry’s voice rose, “than it demanding I bring it off. In clearly enunciated words.”

“Yes, yes, yes! Much madder than that! Would you have me beg? Is that what you want, you monster?”

Harry’s belly was in stitches. He could hardly even gasp. “Now I’m a monster,” he rasped, wiping his eyes. “Because I refuse to let Richard come.”

“I know your type,” Richard was saying, seething, probably giving him another one of those looks, Harry couldn’t tell, wasn’t watching. “You’d have me in a cage night and day. You would lock me, and throw away the key, and give me no relief. You would toy with me until I am panting, desperately untethered, on the precipice, and just as I reach the edge, you would snatch it away from me, leaving me helpless, inflamed, raging. Is that what you like, Harry? Is that how you would treat old Richard?”

Gooseflesh rippled up his arms, down the back of his neck, and then the last words hit. “Old,” he said, “o-old… Richard…” truly, helpless, dissolving into mindless laughter, descending into true madness. This, he decided, was the cruellest curse he’d ever encountered, and the most hilarious thing he’d experienced, and he hated and adored whoever did this to him. George, he expected. Or maybe Malfoy. He was always happy to play a trick or two on him, the bastard.

“Oh,” said a voice, a—right, said Richard. “What was that you were thinking about? Go back. It felt good.”

Panic cramped in his gut strangely like laughter.

Read the rest on AO3!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Hi there! I hope you’re well!

I saw that you’ve opened your drabble requests and, if they’re still open, I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something for Tommy Shelby using the prompt “Really? You’re pregnant?” ?

Thanks so much in advance if you choose to! 🥰

Hello! Yes, I'm good thank you. Hope you are, too! And of course, he you are, love!

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

Pacing the pavement outside of the Shelby Company Ltd, you know you have to venture inside sooner or later. Ambivalence is your friend at the moment, though, your nerves tingling unpleasantly. Do you go in, or run for the bus stop and head home to remain in indecision a while longer?

He should know, though. Sooner rather than later.

It's happened all too rapidly, just four months into your courting of Tommy Shelby and now here you are, with a tiny little bun nestled within your oven. Tommy's tiny little bun. Bake time nine months.

"Oh, bloody hell." Taking a deep breath, you reach for the brass handles of the doors and pull them open. "Here goes nothing."

Striding down the hallway, you are met at the end by the smiling face of Lizzie, his secretary. "Oh, what a surprise. Luckily for you, he's in his office and not currently engaged, I don't think. Let me go and check for you, though. He might be on the phone."

Biting your thumbnail with nerves, you wait the short time it takes Lizzie to knock upon Tommy's office door, poking her head around to alert him to your arrival. "He's free, go on in."

He cuts a sharply dressed, yet casual figure behind his large desk, idly smoking a cigarette while perusing the morning broadsheets. Looking up, he smiles warmly. "You're the last person I was expecting to see this morning, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, hands fidgeting with the buttons upon your coat. "I erm, I have something to tell you, Tommy."

"Oh?" His curious reply pulls him from the paper, setting it down upon the desk as he gives you his full attention. "Not about to tell me I've been given the boot, are you? Because that really would ruin my tea break."

Tommy and his dry humour. "No, not at all, but depending on what you have to say in light of it, your tea break might still be ruined."

His nod urges you to continue, a small puzzled frown creasing his forehead. "You see, Tommy. The thing is, is, I erm. I've just come from the doctor. I'm erm, I... we... I'm pregnant."

Immediately he rises to his feet, his eyes widening as he walks around his desk, taking your hands. You can never truly tell what lurks beneath a facade as stoic as Tommy presents at times, but as you watch his mouth begin to upturn, your heart flutters with relief.

“Really? You’re pregnant?”

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear. "I am. Not very far along, but I am."

The warmth of his hug as he laughs with glee is the only confirmation you need that no, you absolutely did not ruin his tea break that morning.

[youandmedead]

𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖝 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖊 - 𝕷𝖔𝖚𝖎𝖘 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Warnings: Slight angst with fluff at the end, basic vampire stuff, not fully proof read

Synopsis: In which you finally manage to convince Louis to relax for a bit and cuddle with them

Notes: Not too sure if I’ve wrote Louis’ character correctly/ well 😅

Stress consumed him.

Everything felt far too difficult to deal with…all the murder, manipulation, the changes to his once mortal body. Nothing would ever be the same, the world as he knew it turned upside down.

So much was coursing through his mind, especially as he now has a new young addition to this strange collection of people who happened to be one in the same of the supernatural species known as vampires.

Guilt was another companion in addition to all of the stress burdening him. He allowed Lestat to turn yet another innocent soul on the street into such an awful creature as he. He truly felt pity and guilt for the young girl known as Claudia.

As Louis sat and contemplated his regrets and past mistakes, he failed to acknowledge the presence that lurked beside him.

This said figure, leaned in close beside him and spoke, "You're doing it again."

Startled, Louis jumped slightly enough for one to notice and turned to face the figure beside him.

"I do not know what you speak of (Y/n)." Sighed Louis.

(Y/n) moved to sit on the arm of the chair that one of their vampire companions rested upon. They put an arm around his shoulder and rested their head on his, whilst playing with his hair.

"You're getting in your head again my love...you can practically smell the guilt, the anger and the anguish on you."

He smirked spitefully, "Is that so?"

"It is...I grow worried about you Louis, more and more by the nights on our once mortal plane."

Louis abruptly arose from his seat, leaving (Y/n) to lose balance and fall to where he once sat.

"Why shouldn't I feel like this? I am guilty just as much as he is-"

"Still not using his name huh? ...he really must have gotten to you." They interrupted.

His head whipped round and Louis gave (Y/n) a stare straight through their now non-existent soul. He sped right in front of their form, still staring into their eyes.

(Y/n) chuckled, "I don't get threaten easily."

They placed a hand on Louis's shoulder and gave him a small smile, "You need to relax. The stress is consuming you Louis, please...even if you just lie down for a bit. Please, just relax for me."

His stare still remained upon them until his eyes softened and he sighed once more muttering several apologies. (Y/n) have him a light kiss on the forehead, "No need to apologise."

~

(Y/n) then began to lead Louis into the coffin room and opened up the lid. They were the first to lay down within it and then signalled for Louis to join them with open arms. At this point, for a reason they had an inkling of a clue as to why, Louis hesitated and just stood there intimidatingly, watching to see if they'd change you mind.

"Well?"

He sighed and sooner rather than later, climbed into the coffin alongside his significant other. Louis laid his head on their chest and wrapped his arms around their waist and sighed. Y/n then closed the lid of the coffin and in turn wrapped their arms around Louis, giving him a gentle and comforting squeeze. They gave a gentle smile and gave him a gentle kiss before they too drifted off into slumber, they felt grateful and less anxious now that they knew their partner was able to take a small break from his daily stresses

[vaguely-concerned]

I have seen people question whether dios apate minor really needed to happen the way it did. it's the 'this could have been an email' of htn. 'augustine this did not have to be a threesome', I hear people saying. and boy do I have an obnoxious amount of things to say to protest this perfectly sensible assertion so here we go haha

1) yes it absolutely had to be like that. It says so on this piece of paper *hands you a piece of paper that says "because I said so and also it's narratively and thematically Sexy"* in my half-legible handwriting. seeing tamsyn muir describe harrow the ninth as a book about being a kid and realizing your parents probably had sex has given me such validation, I am unstoppable now. (to be serious for a moment, harrow the ninth is essentially a bildungsroman, and the threesome scene does a whole lot of thematic heavy lifting around harrow glimpsing elements of adulthood, relationships, and sexuality she clearly finds at the same time repulsive, bewildering and fascinating, and around opening her and especially our eyes to how much john is just a man with human longings still, under the god stuff. dios apate is crucial plot- and character-wise too -- it's a loadbearing threesome in terms of delivering the clues you need to piece together the mystery plot of the book, which is simply delightful -- but even more so thematically. and then the scene at the end where they confront john gives gideon some of that same opportunity to peek into adulthood and go '...well shit I guess', as a sort of mirror, just without the french kissing that time and more murder. the things magnus and abigail model for the girls about love and adulthood? mercy and augustine are providing the opposite-day batshit insane version of that fhdskjfa, you know, for contrast and spice)

2) listen... it gets lonely out there in deep space with your 'legendary unamorous' brother, two infant pathetic baby kitten sisters who you'll probably have to kill one day when you take another stab at god if they don't manage to get themselves killed along the way on their own, and the two people you've spent the last ten thousand years having separate yet connected married & divorced arcs with and also btw one of them is god... honestly a threesome over the dinner table is probably The most well-adjusted reaction one might hope for under those circumstances

3) on a characterization level I think Augustine is actually doing something incredibly deliberate with it: he's presenting John with yet another chance to admit what he did. which is notable especially since the deal he and mercy agree on as a condition for the threesome to happen at all seems to be that they're going to give the ol' godslaying another game try sooner rather than later. (I get the sense that it's not so much that he disagrees with her ultimate goal so much as that he thinks she's being dangerously indiscreet and hasty going about it, before. “though I think it will be the death of us,” huh.)

notice how he's structuring the whole thing: he's invoking the intimacy and love in their strange little threeway relationship and how long it's been by truly playing along with john's 'we're a happy family really when we're at home! :)' delusion (helped along by lowered inhibitions via enormous amounts of alcohol and what I've previously described as a joint mercy/augustine leyendecker themed thirst trap. ah, a classic). he brings up alecto and what happened to her -- or rather, he is clever enough to make john bring up alecto and how she is totally dead, right?? by seeming to make a careless statement that leads there and then acting contrite about it after. he (helped along by mercy, who I think realizes exactly what he's doing -- this is very much a two-man con) brings up how much they all loved their cavaliers, and wow funny how that's been haunting us for ten thousand years now huh :) wow, a lot of our other lyctor friends slash family sure are super dead in the name of some unknowable greater reason neither of us quite grasp and that you won't fucking tell us, aren't they. these are all the main grievances he and mercy confront john about at the end of the book, but put forth much more subtly and not phrased as an accusation -- he's baring his and mercy's vulnerabilities as bait, essentially. if john had, say, a conscience where his conscience should be instead of a black hole, it probably should have stirred something in him.

(also let me just say... the way augustine just takes a pneumatic drill to the TWO tender spots g1deon seems to have and then has the audacity to be like 'oh dear. did that upset him. ooof my bad *loooong dead-eyed slurp of his wine*' is just sooo... he's such a bitch!!! he's the only person who could ever have held their own in a ten-thousand-year bitch-off with mercy and I love him so much. well even if it wasn't all to get g1deon into murder range for harrow I think he wouldn't enjoy sticking around for the 'getting our tongues on god' part of the evening so maybe it's a kindness, really, and totally not pent-up aggression from the last twenty years or so breaking through)

he is all but shaking john by the lapels begging him to just... come clean about it already, to stop thinking he's still kidding everyone else along with himself. it's clear throughout the book that augustine knows exactly what john is at this point -- and all of the most cynical things he does say about it turn out to be distressingly right. john is always less sentimental than you'd think. john wouldn't forgive mercy, he will abandon in a heartbeat anything that isn’t necessary to him anymore, whether emotionally or in some other way. and still he seems to hold out some desperate absurd hope that the man he wants, the man he thought was there, is in there, somewhere deep deep down, if he just gives him the chance to show himself.

(mercy definitely has her own side of this whole thing, I'm just focusing more on augustine because this evening was like. his idea in the first place and I feel like we can Read Some Things into that fact lol. now that we have both ntn and htn to go from I sort of have this sense that the things augustine wants from john are more... personal? more interpersonal? they both love him equally, but mercy's love seems tinged slightly more towards the religious (augustine accuses her of knowing 'only worship without adoration', which like... also the eight house's entire Vibe lol) -- mercy at the end of that book is totally a person breaking up with GOD, not just with john -- while augustine's vibe is more like a man in the last not-with-a-bang-but-a-whimper days of a marriage that sort of felt like it could have been something real and good once but all your illusions about it have since been taken from you and trampled underfoot into the mud and you've had the divorce papers signed and ready in a drawer for over a year now, hell, as it turns out, is other people etc. lmao)

having a threesome over the dinner table with god is one thing, having a threesome over the dinner table centered on the one man and god who has yet again let you down in a way so fundamental it can barely fit into words and who you both still love in a way anyway, miserably, and also just reaffirmed your joint resolution to murder (all under the pretense that it gives your baby sisters the chance to murder your brother of ten thousand years yeah that's why this is happening no other underlying aching emotional motivations here haha)... listen mercy and augustine are simply on a different level, theologically. they've added horny shrimp colours to the religious spectrum. who else does it like them

[star-writr]

Promise

Yay!! Another 10th Doc fic!! This one is a little longer than the last one luckily. Also school starts in four days for me and I'm terrified. Reader is gn. This will be up on my Ao3 in a sec. Enjoy!!

After yet another draining adventure, the TARDIS welcomed you and the Doctor with its warm lighting and buzzing noises. Closing the door behind him, the Time Lord huffed. "Well, that was a hell of a jog", he spoke, "even for me. Are you alright?"

You smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm going to take a nap. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," said the Doctor, making his way over to the console. "I'll be here if you need anything." You walked away, grateful to get a break.

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair, already spiky and messy enough as it was, sighing. He fiddled with a couple buttons, trying to keep his hands – and thoughts – focused on the TARDIS rather than anything else. The spaceship seemed to find his troubled look quite funny, and her engines snickered.

"Laugh a little more, would you?", grunted the Time Lord. The machine didn't hesitate to do so.

The Doctor had been pining after his companion for a while, but had admitted these feelings to himself quite reluctantly. After all, he knew that you wouldn't be any different to his prior companions. He knew one day he wouldn't see you again; everyone left the TARDIS sooner or later, whether they wanted to or not. Even if you somehow reciprocated what he felt, the situation would've been just the same, and it would've been even worse when it ended. The Doctor was a time traveller, he couldn't focus only on the present; and thinking of the uncertainty of the future – which could've put you in danger in a hundred million different ways without him able to do anything – sent him off the rails like very few things could. He couldn't have you hurt because of his carelessness, feelings or no feelings. However, he still didn't know what to do. Maybe he should've told you the truth. But why bother? Again, it would've meant nothing. Destiny had the tendency to laugh in the Doctor's face, making his every move have the worst consequences possible; if you got involved by staying by his side, who knows what could've happened. There was also the possibility of you being uncomfortable once the Doctor confessed his feelings and leaving the TARDIS even sooner. So the Time Lord kept his mouth shut.

This went on for quite some time. Nevertheless, the Doctor couldn't keep carrying such a burden forever. And, against every last one of his intentions, he didn't.

It was rare to see the Doctor truly scared. It had been a long night, and an even longer adventure. Going deeper and deeper into the darkest of tunnels, holding onto his sleeve, the both of you running for your lives, you saw an expression that the Time Lord had never worn in front of you before then.

The enemy had taken his sonic, leaving the Doctor without his second most powerful weapon, and the first most powerful – his wits – didn't seem eager to respond at the moment. It was true that most times he worked well under pressure, but fear was a beast he didn't quite know how to make abide by his rules.

"Doctor, what do we do? We can't keep running forever," you reminded him, pulling onto his shirt. He stopped in his tracks and took one good look at you.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. You didn't answer. "We have to think of something else," you insisted, "or we'll be stuck here forever."

He said your name with his voice breaking. It was the first time you saw him that worried. "We can't do anything. We can't fight. We can only run", he stated.

You lowered your eyes. The truth was that you couldn't run anymore. As much as you didn't want to admit it, your feet were killing you and you had sprained your ankle.

"You're hurt", realized the Doctor. The sound of metal clanging coming from the tunnels behind you stripped you of all the hope you had left. The Doctor looked at you with wet eyes. "I don't have a plan", he said, "I'm sorry."

He couldn't give up so easily, you thought. The noise was getting closer. The pressure you felt crushed your lungs, leaving you almost breathless.

Even so, the Doctor wasn't the only one who worked well under pressure. You had a sudden idea, and all at once you felt like you could breathe again. A smile crept its way onto your lips. "Well, I do," you said.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Really? What are you going to do?" he asked. His question remained unanswered, at least for the moment, as your lips crashed together with his. "Stay put", you ordered him, then going straight towards the noise of metal. The Doctor – quickly pulling himself together after the sudden kiss – tried to stop you, but it was futile. As soon as you disappeared from his sight the noises suddenly stopped. A few moments later, you came back with his sonic screwdriver in hand and a smirk plastered onto your face.

"Holograms," you explained, "holograms and recorded sound effects. They took your sonic because it would've messed with their systems."

The Doctor's mouth was agape as he grabbed the screwdriver, inspecting it and occasionally shifting his eyes onto your figure. "How can a hologram grab anything?", he asked.

"They were projected onto an endoskeleton", you replied. "Fool proof disguise."

The Time Lord smiled. "You're a genius."

"Save it for when we're out of here, pretty boy," you teased, grabbing him by the tie and leading the way. Needless to say, the Doctor didn't protest. He was too impressed to complain.

You made it to the TARDIS only hours later, exhausted as per usual. The Doctor was still lingering on the kiss. He couldn't tell whether your sudden realization had made you so excited as to kiss him, or if it had been anything else. He was still unwilling to talk about his own feelings, but now that you had made what seemed like a first move, he decided to confront you about it.

He plopped next to you on the seat near the console. His palms were sweaty against the white leather and his eyes darted between the ceiling, you, and the pavement.

"What is it?" you asked, preceding him. The Time Lord suddenly found his shoelaces to be very interesting, and didn't bear to look at you.

"Just thinking", he whispered.

"About?"

"About the kiss."

You tilted your head. The Doctor was still looking down. A sigh escaped your lips. "Okay, listen."

"I am listening."

"Look at me, Doctor."

He didn't turn his head, and just peeked at you from the corner of his eyes. You later found his flusteredness to be quite adorable. For the moment, however, you wondered if the kiss had made him uncomfortable. In any case, it was best to tell him your reasons. All of them. No holding back. You wouldn't have hid anymore.

"I meant that kiss," you admitted. "I'm sorry if you weren't okay with it."

The Doctor went back to staring at his shoes. "I was okay with it." Your eyes lit up. "Frankly," he added, "it would be simpler if I wasn't. But I'm actually glad you did it first."

"Are you?" you questioned him. "You don't look so... happy."

"I know." The Time Lord bit his lip mindlessly.

"Then what's wrong?"

He was finally able to look at you. You deserved the whole truth, he thought.

"I've told you. My companions always end up leaving. Most of the time it's not planned. They end up endangered and the only solution, if there is one, is leaving me behind. If I get too attached I can never get over it."

You took his hand in yours. "Have you considered, even for a second, that it doesn't always have to end that way?"

"But it does."

"I'm still here, though."

The Doctor's eyes darted across the room. As much as he wanted to believe everything would've ended up being okay, he couldn't bring himself to. Each time he did, everything slipped away from his grasp leaving him alone once again.

"Doctor," you pleaded, "if you won't believe it can end differently, then at least let me promise you it will. At least believe in me."

The Time Lord pondered over your words for a couple moments. Then, he cupped your cheek with his free hand and kissed you. It was a desperate kiss, and it made the both of you scoot closer to the other, wrapping your arms around each other for support and clutching at the cloth on your backs. It didn't last for more than thirty seconds, and left you lingering for more.

"Promise me", he begged, "promise me."

"I promise", you whispered.

"Again. Say it again."

"I promise", you repeated.

His lips brushed onto yours. "Again." You smiled reassuringly, your voice a whisper.

"I promise." You kissed him again.

The night had just started.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 21)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity

Several months later...

Eventually, just over three months had passed since your first doctors' visit together and you were now officially 32 weeks pregnant and glowing. You had just passed your first lot of law school exams with flying colors and settled into your new home quite nicely.

Being on your own no longer bothered you and, even despite his newfound relationship with Amanda, Cillian was there for you when you needed him. 

In fact, he became even more attentive, understanding that your due date was getting closer. 

Much to his girlfriend's dislike, he spent several evenings with you after you finished lectures for the day to help you prepare for the arrival of your daughter.

You were extremely grateful for his support and guidance, especially since you lacked support from your family. Your mother had not spoken to you in six months and neither has your father after he learned what you had done. 

You had never imagined that you would end up having a child by yourself at such a young age, but you were determined to give birth to your little one and raise her to the best of your abilities. However, despite your strength and determination, you couldn't help but yearn for companionship.

At times, you missed having someone to share your life with, and it saddened you that Cillian had fallen for another woman.

But then again, you knew that a relationship between you and him would be impossible. After all, he was more than twice your age and you were certain that, at times, he considered you to be immature. 

As such, you never showed your weaknesses to him nor did you beg for his attention. You weren't clingy at all and wanted to show him that you could do this on your own if you had to, even if it was a struggle.

Being emotionally intelligent though, Cillian knew that you were struggling at times and he respected you for trying to hide those moments.

Unbeknownst to you, he was impressed by your resilience and maturity, even when you felt insecure about your young age and if it wasn't for Amanda, he knew that he would probably keep you company more often. 

Amanda, however, made it difficult for him to visit you more than twice a week and, knowing that she didn't particularly like children, you started to worry about whether she would be supportive of the shared custody arrangement you and Cillian had already agreed upon once your daughter was no longer relying on regular breastfeeding. 

After sharing those concerns with Cillian once three weeks ago though, he assured you that, despite her initial hesitations, Amanda had gradually warmed up to the idea of you giving birth to his child.  According to him, she recognized that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She had come to terms with the fact that Cillian truly cared for you and that he was dedicated to raising his daughter together with you and yet, she appeared to be uncomfortable whenever he came to visit you at your house.

One evening in particular about two weeks ago, she called him several times when he was with you, making it clear that she wanted him to return home sooner rather than later.

This happened on a weekend where she had decided to stay at his house for a few nights while his son Max was with Danielle and, clearly, she wanted to make the most of the opportunity to spend time with him alone.

She had been particularly vocal during their argument that evening and, although you hadn't heard exactly what had been said, you sensed that she might have used threats to try to manipulate his behavior.

By the time Cillian had returned to his house that night in order to give in to Amanda's demands, he had barely managed to explain himself without upsetting you however.  He knew that he owed you an apology for leaving so abruptly that day, but he was also frustrated with Amanda's controlling behavior.

He had tried to tell you that she was merely worried about the relationship they had built together, but you could hear some resentment in his voice that day, making you wonder whether he regretted his recent life choices.

Then, a week after that, a similar incident occurred again. This time, Cillian had invited you over to his place to celebrate passing your exams with a nice dinner he had ordered from your favorite restaurant. 

However, Amanda had caught wind of his plans and unexpectedly showed up at his house, pretending to be wanting to surprise him just as you were sitting down to eat.

She had walked in wearing a corporate style dress and immediately started acting flirtatious towards Cillian. You had remained composed, but deep down, you felt uneasy about the situation.

"I did not realize you have company," she lied after giving him a rather sickening kiss and, without even bothering to acknowledge you, she glanced at her watch.

"Isn't it past your bedtime Y/N?" Amanda then sneered sarcastically, her eyes narrowing at you in a mockery of friendliness. 

"Funny," you retorted coolly, refusing to let her jibe throw you off kilter while Cillian glared at her somewhat angrily as if to put her into her place. 

"Yeah, I thought it was a good joke. No harm intended," she explained herself, feigning innocence as she slid into the chair opposite to you, crossing her legs seductively. Her gaze traveled provocatively up and down your body before landing back on Cillian. She wore a smug smirk on her lips and your jaw tensed involuntarily in response.

"So, what are you celebrating?" she then wanted to know., her tone dripping with sweetness. "If I may ask," she added, casting a mischievous grin at Cillian whose gaze seemed to grow cold as ice.

"I passed my exam and Cillian was nice enough to invite me over for dinner," you explained calmly, hoping to diffuse the mounting tension.

"Oh great, which subjects?" Amanda asked, feigning interest. "I remember studying law back when you actually had to work hard for good grades," she joked, casting a sidelong glance at Cillian. "Nowadays, there seems to be an influx of law school graduates which indicates to me that, clearly, obtaining a bachelor's degree isn't so hard anymore," she snarked, looking pointedly at you.

"Well," Cillian interjected, growing increasingly irritated with Amanda's provocative banter. "You can say whatever you want but Y/N studied hard and got 92% which I think is a pretty decent achievement," he defended you, his gaze locking onto Amanda's with fire.

"Oh, of course. I am sorry. It is a great achievement, especially in her condition," Amanda conceded grudgingly, her gaze flicking briefly towards your protruding belly before returning to Cillian.

"My condition?" you repeated incredulously, your gaze darting between Amanda and Cillian. "What does my pregancy have to do with my academic success?" you demanded, your voice rising with indignation.

"Oh, I meant no offense," Amanda apologized nonchalantly, her tone belying her true intentions. "After all, you are still quite young and it must be tough balancing studies while going through pregnancy and all," she shrugged, casting a sympathetic glance at you.

"It is impressive that you manage to juggle so much responsibility," she continued to patronize you, her tone implying that she believed the feat unlikely.

"Yeah, you know what, I think I should go," you finally stood up, unable to stand the insinuations anymore. 

"You haven't even touched your food?" Amanda asked suddenly, gesturing to the untouched plate in front of you. 

"I guess my condition made me nauseous now, so I shall give dinner a miss tonight," you responded with a tight smile, gathering your belongings swiftly.

"I'll see you later, Cillian," you added, shooting him a meaningful glance before stepping out of the house.

Outside, the cold winter air hit you like a slap in the face, sending a sharp chill down your spine. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to hold them back, but you refused to break down. You needed to prove to everyone, including yourself, that you could handle this situation gracefully.

With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and marched down the driveway, ignoring the painful throbbing in your lower back but, just as you reached Cillian's car, sitting idly in the driveway, you heard a familiar voice from behind. 

"Wait Y/N," Cillian called out, his footsteps echoing loudly against the frost-covered pavement.

"Don't," you mumbled, fighting back tears as you spun around to face him even though you hoped that he wouldn't see you like this. Weak and crying.

The sight of Cillian rushing towards you, lips pinched tightly, filled you with a strange mix of relief and apprehension. "I'm okay," you insisted weakly, wiping away the stray tear that escaped your eye.

"No, you are not," Cillian countered firmly, reaching out to cup your cheeks tenderly. "And you don't have to pretend that everything is alright," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes brimming with concern.

"Let me walk you home at least," he offered, taking your hand into his, his touch comforting.

"You don't have to. It's just a short distance Cillian. I will be fine," you reassured him, noting how close your new house was to his.

"I know," he argued, his grip tightening around your hand. "But I insist on walking you home," he declared adamantly, his gaze holding yours firmly.

"Okay," you relented softly, allowing him to lead you through the crisp, snow-kissed streets.

As you walked side by side, the silence between you grew deafening until Cillian broke it.

"Amanda can be incredibly manipulative," he admitted, his voice quivering with frustration. "But I assure you that she means well," he added hastily, as if sensing your skepticism.

"Is that why she constantly belittles me?" you challenged quietly, your gaze fixated on the icy path beneath your feet. "Because she means well?" you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"There might be some jealousy at play here," Cillian sighed ruefully, his grip tightening around your hand. "I don't think Amanda is coping well with the fact that you are having my child," he confided, his gaze boring into yours. "She says that she is okay with it and has accepted it, but I don't necessarily think that this is true," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly.

"Well, she has to learn how to live with it and I think that it will become difficult for all of us, including our daughter, if she cannot cope with this kind of situation," you reasoned pragmatically, trying to distract yourself from the hurtful exchanges earlier.

"I agree," Cillian concurred somberly, his grip tightening around your hand. "But I think that she will come around eventually once she realizes that you are no threat to her," he surmised, his gaze drifting towards the twinkling stars overhead.

"I hope so," you sighed wistfully, your gaze trailing along the icy path. "I only wish for us to get along," you affirmed, your voice laced with sadness.

"I think that you should focus on preparing for Baby Mara's arrival instead of worrying about that," Cillian reassured you, his voice softening. "We will find a way to make things work and I can assure you that Mara will always come first for me. Her and Max, of course," he promised, his gaze meeting yours tenderly.

"I promise I won't leave either of you hanging for a woman," he added earnestly, pulling you into his arms gently.

"I know," you whispered, your heart swelling with gratitude.

"Thank you, Cillian," you murmured, your voice shaking slightly. "Thank you for being there for me," you reiterated, your fingers entwining in his.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N," he replied sincerely, his embrace tightening around you as you approached your house.

"I am the one who should be thankful that you decided to carry my child," he emphasized, his voice cracking slightly. "Despite everything going on in our lives, you still chose to trust me and I am forever grateful for that," he confessed, his gaze holding yours intensely as you unlocked the door.

"Will you come inside?" you invited him tentatively, hoping that he would accept your offer.

"Not tonight," he declined gently, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "But. I will be there on Monday night to put together this ridiculous Ikea Cot you bought," he chuckled you, his gaze holding yours tenderly. "I promise," he added, stepping back to allow you to enter.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered huskily, leaving you standing in the doorway, gazing longingly at your retreat. "Sleep well," he murmured, disappearing into the darkness.

To be continued...

Tags:

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[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

THIS IS WHAT SOME WOULD CALL A MIRACLE.

I hope you enjoy it ;)

***

8 - New position. (Try something completely new!)

Chapter 14

Sam sighed as he watched Jon playing with the pint on his hand. When his friend had asked him out for a drink, Sam imagined something had happened and that it had something to do with the Sansa situation -how he called it in his head.

Sam knew Jon very well; they’d been friends for a long time and went through a lot together. There wasn’t much he didn’t know about the other man.

Sure, he hadn’t expected Jon to get into this… Situation with Sansa Stark. He’d never got the impression that there was anything between them, and he’d seen them together on many occasions. Jon hadn’t talked much about Sansa before, so it was a bit of a shock.

However, Sam didn’t really think it was the craziest match possible. When he’d thought about it better, it did make a lot of sense. They were both steady, loyal and kind people. In Sam’s head, Jon and Sansa made more sense than most of Jon’s previous relationships.

The man in question let out a long sigh, and Sam figured he was ready to say whatever was in his head.

“I’m in love with Sansa.”

Well… Now Sam was glad he hadn’t taken a sip from his beer. “I see.” He dragged the last word.

Jon looked at him. “You do?”

“I mean…” Sam cleared his throat. “I think it was bound to happen.”

Jon frowned. “It was?”

Sam snorted. “Jon… Come on. You’re the king of getting involved with people. And Sansa is pretty amazing. It isn’t shocking that, once you spent more time together, you’d realize she’s amazing and…” He shrugged.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“I’m pretty sure when you told me it was already too late.”  

Jon sighed again. “We spent time together before.” He defended himself quietly.

“Not like this.”

Jon’s next sigh was even more dramatic. “Are you going to tell her?” Sam wanted to know.

“Not yet.” When he saw Sam’s arched eyebrow, Jon hurried to explain. “Sansa is… Discovering herself right now. We’ve had a lot of discussions, and only now she feels more comfortable to say what she wants or not. Her self-confidence took a lot of hits in the last years and in her last relationships. She needs more time.”

“More time for what?”

“To decide whether what she feels when she’s with me is real or not.” Jon’s eyes dipped back to his untouched pint. “Right now she’s enjoying the high, learning about herself… I don’t want to confuse her.”

“I see your point, but then you aren’t being exactly honest with her, right?”

“I don’t intend to drag this indefinitely, Sam.” Jon assured him. “Not even to the end of the list. I also don’t intend to lie to her. If she asks me about my feelings, I’ll tell her honestly. But I think she needs a bit more time. She needs to feel more confident and more certain of what she wants or not.”

“Including you.”

“Including me.”

“I get what you’re saying, Jon, I truly do. But…” It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “Don’t wait too long. Yes, she might need time, but you don’t. You’re in love already. The more time you let pass, the worse this can get for you.”

“I know, Sam.” Jon nodded. “As I said, I don’t intend to lie to her, or anything. I just want her to figure it out on her own.”

Sure. Nothing could go wrong with that, right?

***

As Jon had assured Sam -many times- he didn’t intend to extend this situation indefinitely. He agreed with his friend that it wasn’t a good thing to do -for both of them. He also didn’t plan on ‘tricking’ Sansa into a relationship with him.

She’d either want to be with him… Or not.

And sure, the idea that she might not want to be with him like this would hurt some -or a lot -but these feelings were his to deal with.

He planned on giving her a bit more time, but they’d need to talk honestly about this sooner rather than later.

It was with this in mind that Jon went to Sansa’s apartament that day.

“Jon.” She smiled brightly when she saw him, but she also looked a bit nervous.

“Hey, San.” He kissed her cheek. “Is there something wrong?”

She pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. “Not exactly.”

Jon frowned. “Right… Are you sure? Because…”

“It’s about this next item.” Sansa admitted in a rush.

Oh right. It was the new position one. The one she was worried would turn into some weird yoga that would give her a cramp.

Jon picked her hand and pulled her closer. “We can skip this one.”

She cleared her throat. “Actually… I’ve been thinking about it and that’s something I want to try.” She was blushing and it was cute as fuck.

“Go on.” He encouraged her softly.

“It’s nothing really crazy.” Sansa was quick to assure him.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Well… I want us to…” She sighed. “Come with me.” 

Jon was somewhat bemused as he followed her to her bedroom. Sansa was still holding his hand and she seemed suddenly quite decided on something.

She stopped once they were inside the room. “I want us to do it.” She took a deep breath in. “In front of that mirror.” She pointed at the large full body mirror on one of her walls.

Jon closed his eyes.

“Jon?” Sansa called softly.

“I just think I might need to go back to church after this.” He told her, his eyes still closed.

“What?”

“The gods are being very generous with me right now.”

“Jon!”

He opened his eyes and grinned at her. “I think this is the best idea I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Sansa snorted. “Is that so?”

“Aye. Even better than the World Cup.”

“That’s a great idea indeed.” She grinned at him. 

“And…” He cupped her face. “Not wanting to be repetitive and all, but if you change your mind we can always not do it.”

“I know.” She assured him. Sansa looked around the room, but Jon had the impression she wasn’t really looking for anything, just thinking about how to say something. “Can we turn down the lights a bit?”

“Sure.” He agreed easily.

He let Sansa fuss with the lights as she wanted, while he kicked off his shoes and took off his belt. He looked at her vanity and found a hair tie.

“Now what?” Sansa asked a bit nervously.

“Come here.” Jon called softly. He put her in front of her mirror, her back to his chest. “Can I braid your hair?”

Sansa’s nose scrunched up. “Then will we have a pillow fight?”

Jon laughed. “No. I love your hair, but I want to be able to see all of you. So… Can I do it?”

“Yes.” She answered softly.

Jon gathered Sansa’s beautiful hair and let his fingers run through it for a while, before he divided the strands and started braiding it.

“You’re quite good at this.” Sansa commented.

“My mother taught me how to do it.” He told her, as he finished the braid. “I helped her with her hair when she was sick.”

Sansa’s eyes softened in her reflection. “Jon…”

“It’s okay.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “This isn’t a sad memory.” He assured her.

Sansa looked at him over her shoulder. “Okay.”

Jon kissed her softly. “Are you ready, sweet girl?”

Sansa nodded.

He gently turned her face to the mirror. “Keep your eyes on us.” He told her, his voice soft and low.

Jon opened the zipper of her dress slowly, as if he was discovering her skin for the first time. His fingers ran over every inch of her that was revealed in a reverent way that Jon felt was quite telling. He pushed the dress down and it fell to the ground, then Sansa kicked it to the side, her eyes never leaving the mirror. Jon opened her bra and she also threw it carelessly. He dropped a kiss to the back of her neck.

Jon pulled his T-shirt off, and watched as Sansa bit her lower lip through her reflection. He felt a bit vain, since he knew how much she enjoyed the view of his chest. He’d never thought of his body as that particularly attractive, but he liked the effect it had on Sansa. 

His hands went to her waist, tracing the lines of her body. It was a bit dark in the room but he could still see his favorite freckles on her skin, he loved to see her delicate skin sinking under his fingers with every touch.

Jon had never been particularly possessive, but he couldn’t deny the pleasure he got from touching her like that, from knowing he was giving her something no one had given before. He didn’t like knowing her exes were such assholes and left her feeling so insecure, but he did like the fact that she was allowing him to change all of that.

Even if it had been his idea.

His fingers caressed the underside of her breasts, before he cupped them both. He massaged them gently, carefully, before playing with her nipples. For some reason, he was in no hurry whatsoever just then.

Sansa’s head fell back against his shoulder and Jon kissed her neck. “Is this good, San?”

“Yes.” She whispered softly.

“You look so pretty like this.”

“Jon…” She protested, but it was ruined by the flush of her cheeks and the satisfied smile on her lips.

He said nothing else for a bit, just played with her breasts for what seemed a long time, dropping soft kisses on her neck.

At some point she got a bit impatient, he guessed. Sansa covered his right hand with hers, then pushed it down her body.

“I’ll do it.” He whispered to her. “Put your arms up.”

Sansa raised her arms and sunk her fingers into Jon’s curls. He groaned in appreciation. “Eyes on us.” He reminded her.

Sansa’s eyes went immediately to the mirror, following the progress of his right hand. It hand dipped inside her panties, his finger finding her clit and playing with it.

“Jon.” Her fingers tightened their hold in his hair as he teased her, and her hips started moving, seeking more of his touch.

“So beautiful.” He nuzzled her ear. “Can you see how perfect you look?”

But Sansa didn’t answer, her eyes were fixed on his hand moving inside her panties, her face flushed.

He’d never seen anything prettier in his whole life.

Jon pushed a finger into her and Sansa’s back arched. “Jon.” She called again.

“Aye?”

“I want more.”

“You want another finger?” He teased.

“No.” She whined. “I want…” She was clearly trying to find a way to say it without falling into that dirty talk that she supposedly didn’t like, but she quickly gave up. “I want your cock.”

Well… Fuck.

Suddenly Jon felt - very - impatient. “Off.” He pushed her panties down, and those were also quicked away quickly.

Jon shoved a hand on his pocket and grabbed a condom. He was being way less suave than he’d like to admit, but just then he didn’t care - at all.

“Put your hand on the wall.” He directed Sansa, who obeyed, bracing herself against the wall, the mirror between her hands.

He ran his hands down her back, following her spine. He then opened them to caress her waist and hips, before running a teasing touch to the inside of her thighs.

“Enough teasing!” Sansa complained.

Jon chuckled, but he agreed. He grabbed himself and pushed inside her slowly, slower than he’d ever done before. So slow it felt as if time had stopped.

Sansa’s head fell forward and she tilted her hips back, taking him in deeper, making him lose his mind just a bit more. Once he was completely inside Jon stopped for a minute, appreciating the feeling of being like this with her.

He pulled Sansa back against him, and Sansa gasped at the move.

“Look at this.” He told her softly. “Look how beautiful you look.” He kissed her neck. “How perfectly you take me.” He pulled back a bit, then pushed inside her again. “Does it feel good?”

“So good.” She agreed, her words coming out in a moan.

He started moving slowly, whispering words of praise against her ear, telling her to keep his eyes on them in the mirror. He hadn’t needed to bother saying it, because Sansa couldn’t look away. Her eyes mapped all of them, his hands on her, the way their bodies moved together - not exuberantly, but delicate and deep.

One of Jon’s hands went to her clit, his movements becoming harder even if still slow.

When he felt the tension taking over her body, Jon’s free hand held Sansa’s face. “I want to see your eyes when you cum.” He told her.

Sansa held his eyes in the mirror, until her orgasm took her and she closed her eyes.

“Absolutely perfect.” Jon praised her.