#(yes he taught his son everything he knew)

[madrigaljail]

Oh hey Jared answered my question. Sort of.

[dotster001]

Waking Him up with a Kiss

Summary: Malleus/Silver/Jamil x Gn!Reader. You wake your lover up with a kiss.

Requested by an anon. Fuck you, Tumblr.

CW: Jamil is kinda sus but I wouldn't be doing him justice if he wasn't.

Also! Always get consent from your partner before kissing them in their sleep! That's a cool kid thing to do!

He'd been hinting at this for a while now. All his life, Lilia had regaled him with fairy tales where the sleeping prince or princess was woken with true love's kiss. Malleus had always been a hopeless romantic, and, damn, did he want that!

He'd left the books out when he slept over. He made sure that if he knew you would come looking for him, he'd nap on his back. He sighs dreamily (and loudly) whenever he rereads those fairytales next to you. He waxes on and on about how romantic being awoken with a kiss is. He knows he's dense. But he thinks you're worse.

Lilia giggles and says to be patient, Silver says to just tell you what he wants, and Sebek says to just banish you for the treason of making him sad. He decides that Lilia has never steered him wrong before, so he decides to be patient.

And one day it happens. He's dreaming of you, walking through a meadow, hand in hand. You turn to him, your radiant smile glowing brighter than the sun of his dreams. You press your lips to his, gentle as a cloud, and it feels so real that he doesn't want to wake up.

But he does, and he moans a little as he regrets losing the dream world. But the feeling of your lips doesn't fade. Light as a cloud, gentle as a dove, a feeling that makes him feel so full inside he thinks he'll burst.

His eyes flutter open, and there you are, on your knees in the grass, smiling softly as you push one of his dark bangs away from his eyes. He smiles sleepily, putting together that his dream came true.

“Now that you've given me a taste, I hope you know that I am insatiable,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep. You giggled, as though you thought he was joking.

Oh, you sweet little human.

He is not joking.

He has told you this on many occasions. If you are hanging out, and he falls asleep, do whatever you need to to wake him up. He originally tried to be chill about it, but eventually he let on just how much it distressed him when he missed time with you. He didn't want to miss out on any time with you. Yes, it was partially for you. But if he was honest, it was mostly for him. It hurt his chest to think about losing time with someone he loved. Being around the fae taught him every moment mattered.

Usually, you try everything. You shake him, you steal his pillow, you bang a pot, you set three alarms to go off at the same time. But today, you tried something different.

Silver blinked his eyes open, only to be met by your uncertain ones staring back at him, your face hovering a few inches above his.

He gently lifted a hand to his lips, the ghost of your kiss lingering. He may not have been fully awake for it, but he knows it happened.

His mind was immediately transported to a moment in his youth. He was sitting by his father, sniffling sadly because he fell asleep during Lilia's birthday party. 

“Ah, my sweet son,” Lilia said with a warm smile, gently nuzzling his cheek against Silver's. “I know it's not your fault. Even doctors have told you you can't help it. I am not upset at all.”

“But it's your birthday,” Silver sniffled. ���I feel like I must be cursed.”

Lilia's eyes widened in understanding.

“That must be it!” He said excitedly. He ran to the nearby bookshelf and pulled off a book, before nodding sagely.

“Yes, that must be it, look,” he flipped to a page in the story, pointing to a picture of a sleeping princess being kissed awake by a knight in shining armor. “I know this curse! When you find true love, perhaps their kiss will save you!”

Silver excitedly nodded at the picture, his eyes wide.

Lilia snapped the book shut, authoritatively. “But until then, I don't want you to be sad when you fall asleep. Your hero will save you one day. And they might be sad that they took a long time to save you. So if you are less hard on yourself, it might help them feel better. Promise?”

Silver nodded happily.

Lilia is a menace, filling his son's heads with fairytales. /Affectionate

In the present, Silver smiled softly.

“Did you kiss me awake?”

“Sorry, I know I should have asked, but I figured when you said wake me up however I can-”

“That's correct. I could have said it plainly, but this is definitely what I pictured when I said that. But in case you need me to verbally say it, yes, please continue to wake me up like this. I think I will wake up every single time.”

You smiled at him, still hovering over him, making him long for your kiss again.

“You know, I wasn't awake for the last one. Would you please kiss me again?”

You giggled, then leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

“I feel like I need more ways to show my love for you,” you said thoughtfully. Jamil sat next to you on your bed in Ramshackle, reading over your report, and checking for mistakes.

“And what makes you say that?” He hummed in amusement.

“Seriously? You do everything for me! And I'm just kinda here!”

“I'm perfectly satisfied with that. In fact, I'd rather do all the hard stuff so that you have the energy to shower me in affection when I'm done,” he snickered to himself. If anything, a small selfish part of him liked the idea of you feeling like you had something to prove. It made you a very physically affectionate lover to “make up for it”. And while he was easily flustered, he very much liked the gentle caresses, warm embraces, and hungry kisses you gave him.

“Tell you what,” he hummed, handing you back the marked up report. It would take you hours to make the corrections. He loved you, but you were at a disadvantage when it came to college courses in the laws of magic. “I'm going to take a nap. When you finish, I'd really feel loved if you kissed me awake.”

He laid down, resting an arm over his eyes. 

“You could just stay the night if you're that tired,” you said in that tone of voice that only came when you were pouting.

“Can't. Kalim has a test tomorrow, and I need to make sure he wakes up for it.”

You grumbled something, but he was already out cold.

He felt…warm. He softly sighed, as he felt your kiss deepen. Still not opening his eyes, he wrapped an arm around your neck, and continued sleepily kissing you. Yeah. This is the life he wanted. To be rewarded for his hard work with your affection.

He finally opened his eyes with a scowl when you pulled away.

“I didn't say to stop. This is about expressing your love, right?” He snickered.

You pouted. “I miss when every single thing would fluster you.”

He scowled and stood up, stretching away the sleepiness as he prepared for his trek back to his dorm.

“I don't.”

You smiled sweetly, then reached out for his hair.

“Luckily,  I can still make you all blushy when I play with your hair.”

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @pikeru565

“Good night love,” he scowled as he stormed out of the room.

....

[dragonseeds]

do you think dany knew what she was doing when she hatched her dragons or was it just an accident?

oh yes i think she knew exactly what she was doing. the magic in her blood and the eggs and the fire was speaking to her, coming through in her dragon dreams—especially that last fever dream after her miscarriage. i think she knew it was possible before because she could feel the eggs stirring and the magic waking up (and she was already connecting with drogon and drawing strength from him), but it was mirri maz duur who actually taught her how to do it.

i love that what she’s actually doing is never explicitly stated, yet everything she’s doing saying and thinking gives her away. like she swears to jorah she doesn’t intend to die with drogo, she directly compares herself to aegon, she places the eggs on the pyre and tells mirri maz duur that she’s going to take her life because only death can pay for life, etc., but the closest dany ever comes to directly saying it is when it’s done and the last dragon is about to hatch:

like calling herself mother of dragons and then calling them her children is unequivocal, but before that grrm’s building the suspense and creating this heady wild momentum. it feels very similar to reading her wake the dragon fever dream, and provides such a great insight into her character. the space in the narrative where she doesn’t acknowledge what she’s doing or exactly why she’s doing it is where the magic lives, and it also gives her a place to hide any lingering uncertainty or fear, while still making it clear that she understands what’s happening: that she is in fact making it happen.

but like speaking of accidents, i’m obsessed with the difference between dany’s success and egg’s flop tragedy. she uses her husband’s funeral pyre, the husband whose life she traded her son’s for, to wake the dragons (including herself) and creates life from death. aegon v tried to hatch dragon eggs during rhaegar’s birth (the child he and jaehaerys ii traded rhaella’s happiness and agency for) and instead made a pyre of summerhall and most of his family. rhaegar was the last dragon, born in fire, and now it’s her—but it was always her and he always had to die. “the face within was her own.” crazy. insane.

i’m sure people have pointed this out before, but the magic here always makes me think of this line from the last unicorn: “real magic can never be made by offering up someone else’s liver. you must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.” grrm’s use of magic is very similar, just as the unicorn and dany are similar, and i think it’s very possible that other attempts to hatch dragons in the past failed in part because whoever was trying didn’t understand this (and also because they were a. men and b. not daenerys lol). magic has a price, and it’s always high. this is one of the hardest lessons dany has to learn, and she thanks mirri maz duur for it in the end, because she understands that it had to be her own child, her womb, her husband, her sun and his fire that’s really hers burning someone’s life away—and this whole time, the entire book up until this point, she’s been cracking open like the moon, like the eggs on the pyre, and then she joins them in the fire.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Entangled. // Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader x Alys Rivers

MDNI ; reader discretion is advised.

Summary: after so much loss, you had been betrothed and later married off to aemond as a means to put an end to the war, he takes you to harrenhal where you meet his mistress, Alys rivers. What can possibly unfold?

WARNINGS: dubcon (I'm not sure but I'm adding it just to be safe), unprotected sex, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, tiddy sucking, m/f/f, cunnilingus, threesome, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, polygamy(?), witch stuff, aemond x alys, alys x reader, aemond x reader, canon typical incest, war, loss, slight angst, slight fluff, contains spoilers for fire and blood, canon divergence, reader doesn't have a description. + not proofread.

A/N: here's a fic as promised before I leave for 2 weeks due to mid terms! hope you all enjoy it! // divider credit: @cafekitsune

WC: 2.8k

The war was devastating to you and your siblings, having lost both luke and jace, you were terrified for your life as well as your younger sibling's.

You watched as your family fell apart, slowly but surely, all of them ended up dying, leaving you and your younger siblings alone and estranged. The moment you heard your stepfather, daemon's, death; you knew that it was over, there was no more winning anymore.

Especially with Aemond surviving the fight.

Loss, Grief, and Sorrow were emotions you became familiar with.

You had to anyway.

Because with war, there would always be the plague of such pessimistic emotions that would follow, with every news it will only grow stronger.

Alas, the greens ended up winning the war.

And Alicent, as a way to make sure none of this repeats again, has quickly betrothed you to her second son, prince regent, Aemond, while your younger brother Aegon III was betrothed to Jaehaera.

It's not as if you and Aemond were on bad terms before the war, it would rather be described as more… tolerable. Aemond didn't hold any feelings towards you, neither negative nor positive.

Is what you had taught.

Until you found out that halfway through your wedding procession that it was Aemond who proposed the idea of marrying you to him, Alicent had only planned for Aegon and Jaehaera's betrothal.

You exchanged your vows half heartedly, and as soon as the wedding had ended, Aemond wasted no time and immediately whisked you away with him to Harrenhal, which he inherited and resides there to rule rather than at the keep.

You had not spoken a word to him ever since the departure. You did not want to.

Harrenhal looked and felt ominous, everything about it screamed danger, whether it was the rumours about the curses that surrounded this place, or just the overall aesthetics and appearance of it, it scared you.

You knew that it was destroyed and basically melted during Aegon's conquest, but it seemed Aemond had tried his very best to rebuild the place, yet the result was more horrific than it was ‘fixed’ you would've preferred if it had been just left untouched.

Aemond, wanting to go all the way with the formalities, he gave you a tour of the castle, before stopping in front of his chamber, a private residence where only he is allowed, “This is our chamber.” He said.

Ah yes, it also belongs to you now, doesn't it? You are his wife after all. You nodded, not wishing to speak to him, the guard opened the door.

As you both entered inside, there was already a woman who seemed to be waiting, as if she knew you both would be coming. “Aemond, you have returned.” She stood up from her seat, putting the book down, addressing him informally.

Not your grace, my prince or any formal title, just Aemond.

You took note of her appearance, hair as dark as the night sky, eyes that resembled emeralds, donning a valyrian steel necklace.

Alys rivers.

Aemond's mistress.

“Alys, I have not permitted you to enter my chambers.” Aemond speaks calmly, not realising the awkward situation that has occured with you in the room. “Oh come on Aemond, do not be so cold, Is she your wife?” She turned the conversation to you and you wished the ground would swallow you whole because of the tension in the air.

“Yes, she is.” Aemond confirms and she hums, “And you must be his mistress.” You speak, breaking the silence you maintained all throughout, acknowledging her presence, catching her by surprise. “Oh? You're know of me?” she asks and you nod, “How can i not? When there's words of your presence infiltrating every corner of the world, after all, Who could the prince have taken as a mistress after his betrothal to Floris broke?” You question, eyebrows raised, you see Aemond visibly tense, likely feeling the tension now.

“What have you heard of me, Princess?” Alys asks, tilting her head to the side, “That you are very beautiful, eyes that shone brightly like the stars amidst the night sky; that is your hair.” You tell her truthfully making her lips break into a smirk, “And what else?” She doesn't break eye contact, it's your turn to smirk now, “That you must wield powers, which you had used to bewitch the prince.” You watch as her smirk turns into a smile, “What exactly are you implying princess?”

“That you are a witch.” You put implication on the word ‘witch’, Aemond coughs awkwardly and her chuckle breaks the silence and you giggle as well, “And what do you think of it?”

Why was she so curious to know of your opinion?

“Mhm, I cannot speak for everyone, but I do not believe it, I can say that for sure.” You tell her your opinion, “And why is that so?” she asks, “Because- it's just my opinion.” you shrug and she smiles.

“Alys, you can leave now.” Aemond interferes, kicking her out and you give her a smile which she returns as she leaves the chambers. “I apologise.” Aemond expresses his apology. You simply ignore him, not wishing to speak to him.

He sighs in annoyance, “For fucks sake why can't you just talk to me? You were speaking a lot to Alys when she was here.” He breaks his formality and that's when you turn to him, “There you are uncle, I was getting bored with the formality you have shown me, pretending as though nothing happened, that your family did not just kill my family.” You say in anger.

“It's over now.” He says and you scoff, “Over?! What do you mean over?! What about the grief that I carry? The loss of my brothers, my mother, my father??! It's destroying me from the inside out!” You shout and Aemond stands still, looking down as if in regret.

“You are not the only one that has experienced grief.” He murmurs and before you can say anything, he lifts his head up and looks at you in the eyes and you immediately stop yourself from speaking.

That's right.

You aren't the only one that has experienced grief, you suddenly remember helaena and jaehaerys. You bite your lip in thought.

“I'm aware that you have experienced more loss than me, more grief than me, some directly caused by me, but that doesn't mean I'm not a victim of it either.” He sighs, “Either way, there is no use of dwelling over the past, we need to put our differences aside and make this work, you saw what happened. War will only make it worse.”

You hated that he was right.

You watch as he comes closer and you don't move away, he wraps his arms around you, embracing you, it feels so comforting, when was the last time you were held like this? You hug him back, burying your face into him, breathing his scent.

“I, I know this will not solve anything that has happened, or bring your brother back to life, but I apologize, I hope we can put our past behind us.” You hear him speak as you zone out in the comfort of his arms, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Ever since then, you and Aemond had grown closer a bit, trying your best to make everything work, he had bedded you during the days that followed, consummating your marriage. But he still laid with Alys.

You did not mind, because though you had gotten closer, you didn't always want to be around him and Alys helped you greatly with that, keeping him away from you.

You were sitting in the library of Harrenhal, reading on the chaise until you heard the door open and watched as Alys entered the room. “Greetings Princess.” She bows slightly and you raise your eyebrow, “You can drop the formalities Alys, you referring to me formally while being informal with my husband will make it seem like I'm that one mean wife who has forced herself between two star crossed lovers.” You close the book you were reading and she chuckles, “As you wish, Y/N.” she refers to you by your name and you smile. “What is that you require from me?” You ask and she shrugs, “I simply wanted to see you, see how you are doing.” She says and you nod, “Hmm.” you hum.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are delectable?” She suddenly says and you look at her, “I've gotten compliments, yes, but not to that extent.” you tell her honestly and she hums. “Well, you are extremely pretty. Almost makes me want to-” She interrupts herself with a cough and you raise an eyebrow, “Make you want to?” You question, and she looks at you, “Have you for myself.” She says directly to your face, catching you off guard. “Oh?” You smirk, “You wish to steal me from the prince? He might see it as an offence.” you tease and she chuckles, “Maybe.” She smirks and suddenly it feels as if the entire power dynamic has changed. You clear your throat in an attempt to deviate from this conversation and try to start another one.

Encounters like that had become more frequent with Alys, she was being flirty indirectly, she had even done it in front of Aemond to which he didn't bat an eye to.

You had tried your best to remain composed, only to find yourself in a situation you didn't quite expect.

Your legs were held spread open by Alys as she laid behind you, your back against her chest, you could feel the softness of her breasts against your back as she kissed your neck.

You gaze falls on Aemond who was currently undressing, he was taking off his breech which revealed his hard cock, to which he gave a few pumps to ease the tension, “Come on Aemond, don't take way too much time.” Alys coos and Aemond obeys, lining his cock to your cunt, sliding it down your fold, gathering the wetness on his cock and later placing his tip against your entrance.

He then slowly pushes inside, causing you to gasp and grip the sheets below, Alys’ hands travel up to your torso and she grabs your breasts, playing with the nipple as she continues placing kisses on your neck.

Aemond fully sheaths himself inside you, grunting when he feels you clench around him, “Fuck, I love this cunt so much.” He groans before drawing his hips back and pushing forward, thrusting. “I know right? Been wanting to taste it for a while, let me at it when you're done.” Alys replies to him, she turns your face sideways and presses her lips against yours, kissing you.

Aemond's tip prods at the sweet spot located inside of you, causing you let out a loud moan into Alys’ mouth to which she chuckles, one of her hands leave your breasts and go to your cunt, she rubs small circles on your clit, elevating the pleasure you're feeling, and before you know it, your orgasm hits you as you come all over his cock, clenching him, causing him to moan and eventually finish inside you. He pulls out slowly, his cock beginning to soften.

Alys is swift in her movements, moving from behind you to facing you from the front, she pushes you further up the bed before lowering herself down to the level where she is face to face with your cunt, she hums in delight as she watches Aemond's spend ooze out from you.

Her tongue collects some of it before she licks a long stripe up to your clit, before engulfing it completely with her moan, which causes you to throw your head back in place. Your hand flies to her head to grip it, your fingers locked in her tresses. You whimper as she pulls on your clit with her mouth, nibbling it. She travels a little down towards your hole and pushes her tongue inside, fucking you with it, her nose rubbing against your clit.

You watch as as Aemond begins to harden again, he positions himself behind Alys, grabbing her by her hips and lifting her lower body up, You feel Alys moan against your cunt as she feels him enter her, her body rocks back and forth as he thrusts into her, she uses your thighs as a leverage to keep her steady, annoyed by the fact that he's using so much force to the point her face keeps leaving your cunt, her tongue swirls around your clit which causes the band in your stomach to snap, you gasp out her name and she moans into your cunt as she reaches her orgasm, teeth clamping down onto your clit but not too harshly yet enough to cause slight sting. Aemond pulls out before he can finish inside her, finishing on her back.

Why did he not finish inside her?

The thought flies over your head as they swiftly change positions again.

Another round? You're already too overstimulated from the previous pleasure.

Aemond lays down and pulls you on top of him, you lay your hands flat against his chest and balance yourself, he lifts your hips up and lines his cock against your entrance again before sinking you down on it, letting out a groan. “Seven hells, I just can't get used to this cunt no matter how many times I take it.” He grunts, “Sit on my face, Alys.” He looks at her and she smiles, immediately obeying, she faces you and you watch as her cunt hovers right above his mouth before she descends to it, his tongue immediately capturing her sex.

You slowly start moving your hips, causing Aemond to groan against her cunt, one of his hands remains firmly on your hip as the other travels to Alys's thigh, gripping it for leverage.

‘This is what heaven probably feels like’ Aemond thinks.

You bounce up and down his cock, Alys leans towards you to capture your lips into a kiss and you let her, your hands roam all over her body before reaching her breasts, you give a slight squeeze to them, making her breath hitch. She kisses downwards your neck, to your breast before taking your nipple in her mouth.

She suckles on your tit while maintaining eye contact with you, and you can already feel the third orgasm of night beginning to build up. She moans with your breast in her mouth causing pleasant vibrations to shoot up your skin, it seems as if she had reached her peak.

She quickly get off of Aemond's face and he sits up, fully focusing his attention onto you now, pressing a kiss to your lips, you can feel the taste of Alys’ essence on his tongue as he shoves in your mouth, deepening the kiss, he ruts into you at a speedy pace and pulls away from the kiss, to watch your tits bounce up and down as he thrusts upwards.

His mouth descends onto one of them, tongue playing with the bud, flicking it up and down, “I can't wait to see these swell with milk when my seed takes, I bet you'd taste so fucking good.” He growls, biting your nipple making you wince.

And it isn't long before you reach your third orgasm of the night, moaning his name loudly as you finish on his cock, and he once again finishes inside your cunt, filling you up with his seed, painting your walls.

You fall slumped onto his shoulder, exhausted from all the intimate acts you have committed with Aemond and his lover, and practically your lover too now.

He pulls you off him and lays you down next to him gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you watch as Alys lays on your stomach, and she turns to press a kiss to your lower abdomen, right where your womb was located and whispers some words which you couldn't make sense of.

She then climbs up further and lays beside you, hugging you close to her chest and Aemond pulls you both into an embrace.

“She'll soon give birth to children that will look like the three of us.” Alys says to Aemond and he hums, “How?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows and she chuckles, “Maybe that being a witch rumour wasn't false after all.” She says and you gasp, “Though, I never really bewitched the prince, I never had to.” She chuckles and leans over to kiss Aemond before falling back to place.

You thought Alys was just bluffing and joking at that time, until you gave birth to twins months later.

Who ended up having features of all three of you, your son, having one emerald green eye and one purple eye with your hair colour, and your daughter with platinum blonde hair with your eye colour and facial features of alys.

You wondered how she'd done it.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[meo-eiru]

Eden.

A garden that has been long untouched by the spoils of man, a paradise. Yet for Eden himself, there was little serenity to be found in the name his father had bestowed upon him. The Eden of the scriptures was a place where man first tasted the sweetness of sin.

As a child, Eden had looked up to his father with awe, the way an astronomer might admire a distant star—brilliant, untouchable, but that was long before he had long come to understand his father.

He was devoted husband and by devoted— he meant in a constricting way. His love suffocated as much as it sheltered.

Micah had built a fortress around his mother. The doors to the outside world were closed to her, and any desire she voiced for freedom was swiftly quelled with reminders of how dangerous, how unpredictable, how cruel… the world will be. He made her believe that all she needed— no, all she could ever want—was within inside the home of his making. And if she ever dared to question, Micah would respond with a subtle open-eyed smile, a look that chilled Eden to his core. His father’s eyes, blank and empty, seemed to say more than words ever could

Eden once believed his father loved him—in his own peculiar way. But that love was less about Eden himself and more about what he represented: the product of Micah’s “love” for his mother. He didn’t look at Eden the way other fathers looked at their sons. There was no warmth in his gaze, no pride. When Micah looked at his son, it was with the same detached curiosity one might show a stray dog that had wandered too close to home. There was affection, yes, but it was distant, cold, the way a man might feel for a possession that had outlived its use.

There were only so many places Eden was allowed to go. The house, of course, and the garden, which Micah maintained with an almost religiously. Sometimes, if his father was feeling particularly generous, he would be allowed to play with the neighborhood children. But those moments of freedom were rare, and Eden quickly learned not to ask for them too often.

But this more than his mother was granted. She, poor creature, was kept within the house at all times, a bird in a cage. Micah’s treatment of her was peculiar, to say the least, but it was the only life Eden had ever known, and so he accepted it as normal. He did not question the way his father controlled her every movement, her every thought. Eden knew no different. It was the way of things, after all. Is that not what love is—binding and strong?

Micah was determined that Eden be well-educated. School was out of the question, of course— his father had his reasons. “Why would you need to go anywhere else,” he would say, “when I can teach you everything you need to know myself?”

And so Eden was taught in languages, in numbers, in the sciences and histories, all under his father. Micah ensured that Eden was always immaculate, every hair in place, every thought controlled. It was he was to be an extension of Micah himself, a mirror in which his father might see his own reflection.

Weird.

That’s what the other children called him, when Micah allowed him to play with them.

But what did they know of it? What did any of them know of him, and the empty love that held him fast? They knew nothing, and so they called him weird. And perhaps, in their ignorance, they were right.

AAAAAAAAAAA IT'S SO GOOD AGAIN I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!

You're soooo good at writing Micah I love reading these so much. AND I LOVE EDEN!! Lowkey wanna make him canon at one point now

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out��”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[asonofpeter]

Night Shift

Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: Jaime doesn't like that you work a night shift at a bar, so setting out to get a job at Kord Industries, you're shocked when he comes home with something else....

Warnings: mentions of men being pervs, lots of screaming and a little bit of violence, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My first full fic in a while? Yes, it is indeed and with my new love, Jaime Reyes. If you haven't seen Blue Beetle, pause and go buy a ticket cause this movie is good! So proud of mi Xolito! Anyway, I'm proud of this, so enjoy! 💕💕💕

I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know? I’ll get the job tomorrow and work hard to support the family and us,” Jaime stood up from your bed, grabbing hold of your hands to stop you from getting ready for work. 

“Jaime, I know you want to do everything you can to stop us from losing the house, but we need the money, wherever we can get it from,” you inhaled. 

You moved in with the Reyes three years ago after your parents kicked you out. The details are unimportant and messy but you were happy you ended up in a loving household after all. The only problem now, you’re on the brink of becoming homeless.

“But a job where drunk assholes violate you?” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, knowing most customers haven’t gotten handsy since you started. “It’s not right,” he shook his head, squeezing your hands. “I don’t want you to have to go through that,” he rested his forehead against yours. 

You knew he meant well. It sucked having to work at a bar where wearing low-cut tops and push-up bras made for extra tips. Especially when you worked during the night. But then again, even when businesses are going bankrupt, bars are seemingly filling in at an all-time high. You had to take advantage of the dire situation even if Jaime didn’t like it.

“I can handle my own,” you smirked. “Nana taught me a thing or two,” you winked. 

“I bet she did,” he chuckled. 

“And besides,” you removed your hands from his grip, smoothing them up his arms until they rested on his biceps. “I have my big strong boyfriend to protect me,” you looked at him finding the blush forming on his face adorable.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips moved against yours slowly, one of your hands moving up to tug on the hair of the nape of his neck. 

Living in a small house with five other people gave you no privacy whatsoever, so moments like these were cherished. All those stolen glances, hidden kisses, late-night talks—it all meant something. 

“I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you in the morning,” you pulled away. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk to work alone at eleven at night,” he grabbed your arm lightly, pulling you back into his embrace. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven too,” he said and you sighed out contently.

“It means a lot, but don’t you have your job interview tomorrow?” you rested your head against his chest as you both walked out of your and Milagro’s room.

“I’ll sleep, wake up, pick you up, then come back and get ready,” he shrugged and you agreed with his well-thought-out plan. 

“Ya te vas, mija?” Rocio asked once you both entered the kitchen and you nodded. “Cuidate, y come tu comida, no quiero que te desmayes,” she handed you a paper sack and you smiled, thanking her. 

It was things like that which made you grateful for Jaime’s family—your family. The constant protection and worry they hold over you like one would for a daughter or sister. Making sure you had a lunch packed so you can eat and not faint during your shift. It warmed your heart and made you grateful every day. 

“Make sure she gets there safe, okay, Jaime?” Alberto pointed to his son and your boyfriend nodded, reassuring the two. 

Walking out of the house, you found your hands intertwined as you made your way down the block. You glanced at Jaime to find him smiling at you before he looked ahead. You grinned at the fact you caught him before you too continued your focus forward.

Palerma City was alive at night, even in the small barrio you lived in. The streets were dark, flickering lamp posts illuminating the people who were still up trying to make a living by whatever means. You looked far past, the bright neon skyline of the city, all the rows of high rises where all the rich white folk were fast asleep tucked away in silk sheets. 

You would get there one day. 

“What did my mom pack for your lunch?” he asked, pulling you out of your thought.

“A torta de jamon, an apple and orange, some Fritos, and oh, a gansito,” you gasped in excitement before you stuffed the bag in your backpack. “I know exactly what I’m eating first,” you giggled. 

“My mom literally said we ran out of gansitos,” he said in shock. “She loves you more than me,” he feigned hurt and you wrapped your arm around him, cooing as you kissed his cheek.

“What can I say? I’m lovable,” you hummed.

The two of you turned the corner and you found yourself at “Margaritaville”, the newest establishment where you got paid minimum wage and received great tips from businessmen who got off on a pretty bartender flirting with them before they made their way home to their wives. Or from people who recently got laid off from their jobs and needed someone to talk to.

Either way, you’d put on your best smile, bat your lashes and make sure your top was low enough if that meant being able to pay part of the rent.

“Be safe, okay?” Jaime pulled you in for a hug. “I’ll be awake at 6:30,” he promised. 

“I will,” you mumbled into his neck before pulling away. “See you soon,” you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

He cupped your cheek before you pulled away, your fingers pulling along his, straining to stay in touch as you kept moving toward the door until they unlinked, his arm stayed hovered in the air for a split moment while yours dropped to the side. He watched as you turned back and waved until you entered through the back door, making sure to stay for a minute before he turned back around. 

The lingering touch of you remained on his fingers until he arrived home and made his way to bed. It wasn’t fair you had to become a main stream of income for the house. It shouldn’t be you pulling in the long hours, it should be him.

He needed to get that interview at Kord Industries tomorrow.

~

You undid your apron, shoving it back into your backpack. You let out a sigh as you did a once over to the barely empty bar. The next shift already arrived and was taking care of the customers. Letting out a yawn, you placed your tips in your pocket, opening the back door only to be greeted by Jaime who was waiting at the curb.

“Buenos dias, mi amor,” he smiled and you felt your cheeks blush at the pet name he liked to change out every once in a while. “Made you breakfast,” he handed you something rolled in some paper towels before you unveiled two bean burritos. “How was work?” he kissed your cheek while he took your bag from you.

“Made $150 in tips,” you stated, biting into your food. “Getting paid tomorrow, so it went well,” you nodded. “Customers were more to themselves tonight, except for this one guy who was crying about his wife leaving him. I think he left looking for a prostitute to be honest,” you chuckled. 

“Poor dude,” he hummed. “But the money is good,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. 

The rest of the short walk was made in silence and it was calming to just have Jaime by your side. The eight-hour shift takes it out on you and you couldn’t wait to go to sleep. 

“Hola,” you greeted as you walked through the door. 

“Como te fue?” Nana asked and you responded to her before a yawn came out.

“Disculpe,” you pressed a hand to your chest. “I’m gonna go shower,” you said, the family understanding as you made your way to your room. 

After a quick shower and changing into casual wear, you felt refreshed as you walked back into the family room. The whole family was gathered as Jaime stood in the middle, hair geled back and his fancy clothes put on.

“Wow, que chulo,” you complimented with a bright smile plastered on your face as you stood behind the couch. 

“You see, cabezon? You look fine,” Uncle Rudy told his nephew and Jaime nodded in defeat, clearly flustered. “Y/N wouldn’t lie, she loves you too much for that!” he cackled and you joined in, making Jaime blush even more.

“Let’s go and get this over with, I still don’t trust that Jenny girl,” Milagro muttered under her breath and you sent a glance at Jaime. 

You were aware of what happened when Milagro and Jaime lost their job with Victoria Kord. Millie was correct to have a distaste for the older lady, but after her niece offered an olive branch, giving Jaime an opportunity–you weren’t sure if she was in the right to have that distrust. But then again, you weren’t there.

“Descansas, okay?” Nana kissed you on the cheek and gave you the blessing before she walked out and you nodded. 

The rest of the family walked out, leaving you and Jaime left. 

“Good luck, okay?” you grabbed his face and gave him a chaste good luck kiss. “I know you’re gonna woo them over,” you sent him a sure smile. 

“How are you so sure about that?” he held your wrists, running his thumbs over your delicate skin. 

“Cause, you’re Jaime Reyes”.

~

“You don’t know what’s inside?” you heard Millie ask. 

You were awakened by muffled conversations, your brows furrowing as you checked the time. They couldn’t have come back that soon and if something serious happened, they would’ve woken you up. 

About to drift back to sleep, you eyes shot open by shouting. The voices of Jaime, Millie, and Rudy combine together. Bolting out of bed fast, you opened the door and ran into the dining room, finding Millie and Rudy to be playing hot potato with a blue bug, Jaime trying to get them to stop.

“Mira, look what you did! You woke her up,” Rocio gestured to you and the room suddenly got quiet. 

“Ay, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jaime winced, trying to grab the thing from Millie but she held it out of his reach. 

“Look what Jaime brought back. That Jenny girl is a total floozy, like what is this that she gave him?” she cocked a brow, holding it clearly so you could see.

“A bug?” you rubbed your eyes. “Why would she give you a bug?” you asked, walking closer. 

“She told me to guard it with my life, I wasn’t even supposed to open it,” your boyfriend explained and his words made you uneasy. 

“I think you should put it back, you don’t know what it can be,” you turned to Millie. 

“She’s right,” Jaime held out his hand and Milagro reluctantly agreed, placing it in his palm.

You watched as he was about to place it back in the box until it lit up, his face inching closer to inspect it. You stared back in amazement, the bug coming to life.

“I think it likes me,” he grinned, glancing up at you with a twinkle in your eyes that made your heart skip a beat. But that smile was instantly wiped away the moment the bug launched itself onto his face.

“JAIME!” you screeched, the family shooting up from their seats as they tried to aid him.

“It’s on your face!” Uncle Rudy screamed before he grabbed onto the bug, attempting to rip it off but it shot out a bolt of electricity, sending him across the room and Jaime against the wall. 

Your body began to shake and you wanted to run over to help Jaime but he got up, the bug detaching from his face until it crawled over his shoulder and under his shirt like a spider you wanted off immediately. 

“Jaime!” you shouted, his body thrashing around the room like he was fighting with the bug. “Baby, please,” you cried, hands over your mouth as you tried to begin to process what was going on but you couldn’t.

“Oh god,” Jaime stilled, hunched over as he looked at you. “I think it’s inside of me,” his gaze filled with panic and you felt your skin crawl. “It’s inside of me!” he screamed, hand reaching out for yours before he doubled over in pain, the bug poking out underneath his clothes before arms pierced through, sending him up against the ceiling.

Another wave of screams sounded, the love of your life’s agony cries being the worst thing you ever heard. The tears were falling down your cheeks. You wanted to help him but couldn’t. You wanted to know what was going on but didn’t. You were completely helpless in this situation.

Black goo grew over his body, his clothes burning to crisps and you were afraid of what it was going to do once it got all of him. Were you about to lose your Jaime? How did you get to this point when it was just a job interview? 

“Y/N!” his call for you made your heart stop and you tried telling him you were here but his cries drowned it out. 

Suddenly, he was completely transformed, a suit of armor in black and blue engulfed him. The cries and the screams quieted down as you all stared at him. A split second ago, you thought he was going to die, but now he was fine? It didn’t make sense. 

“Mijo?” Rocio called out as Jaime walked over to the photo of La Virgen, his illuminating yellow eyes staring back into the reflection.

“What was that?” he looked back in shock, hands over his mouth. “Did you hear that?” his voice was panicked, his expression hidden with the eyes providing just the tiniest amount of concern. 

“Jaime, what’s going on?” you took a step forward. 

“That voice, you don’t hear a voice?” he walked forward, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all of you. The suit seemed to have turned on, blue light glowing between grooves and you all watched in awe. “Systems check?” he mumbled, looking around the room. 

“Jaime?” you asked, noticing the arms powering up.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay!” he shouted just as he was flown through the ceiling before he became a dot in the sky. 

Nothing was okay.

~

Reblogs are the best!

[giuliettagaltieri]

Footsteps in the Snow

Pairing: Dad!Coriolanus Snow x Mom!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Heir

Warning: parenthood

Word Count: 3133

7 of 7

When one has everything, the only foe left to face seems to be nothing else but time.

Coriolanus watched his son Aurelius Hyperion, or Harper grow.  The little boy seemed to become more and more like him with every passing day.  And Coriolanus is conflicted about how he feels about that fact as it seems his son grows farther and farther away from him.

You often reassure him that it is simply a part of growing up, that children will have to learn how to become independent.  It was easy for you to say.  You did not have the same crisis as him. 

Harper would seek your company and still cuddles close to you despite him being seven years older since you have given birth to him.

It wounds Coriolanus deeply when he catches Harper laughing with you but his back straightens and the glee in his face fades to indifference when he is nearby.  Coriolanus found it difficult to bond with a child so similar to him.

Without you, he fears Harper would have long left the manor.

“Harper, is there something you would like to tell your father?”  You ask over breakfast, your voice light and cheery, a juxtaposition to the frigid atmosphere.

Coriolanus sets the newspaper down to give his son his undivided attention.  It was something you taught him.  To make Harper feel seen and heard.  And he is thankful that you initiated an interaction between them.  They felt nothing more than strangers living under the same roof.

The little boy glances at his father before he sets his fork down and wipes his lips with the napkin.  Coriolanus waits patiently as the boy sips his water and clears his throat.  He is stalling but Coriolanus will not let him get away from this.

“Yes?”  He asks when Harper chooses to fix his cravat instead of talking.

You smile at your son when he looks at you for support.  ‘Go on.’  You mouth at him.

Harper straightens his back and meets his father’s gaze with his unwavering ones.

“I was the top of my class, father.”  He says proudly.  “I also just learned a new piece on the violin.”

Coriolanus smiles genuinely, proud of his little boy.

“That is good.”

Harper looks at his father with his eyes mirroring the same happiness and for just a moment they stare at each other.  Coriolanus watches how his joy seeps out again.

Coriolanus receives a kick to his shin and he looks at you with accusation but you are too busy buttering your bread.

“I would love to hear you play.”  He tries to add but Harper only nods.  “What piece was it?”

Harper sighs and Coriolanus purses his lips.  “Paganini’s 24th Caprice.”

You sip your tea, quietly enjoying the wonderstruck expression in your husband’s face before he recovers quickly.

“And what does Grandma’am have to say about that?”  Coriolanus asks gently, a soft smile on his lips, one that Harper returns.

“She doesn’t know.”  Harper said mischievously.  Grandma’am would have pulled his ear had she known.

“Let us keep it that way.”  Coriolanus nods as he picks his newspaper again.  “But will you play for me when you find time?”

Harper glances at you before nodding.

“Harper is coming to work with us today.”  You tell Coriolanus who looks at you with mild interest, to ensure that Harper does not take it negatively but he was in truth asking you what you are planning.  Again.

“It has been quite a long time since his last visit.”  You say after pushing a fruit parfait in your son’s direction.

“Indeed, it has.”  Coriolanus agrees as he picks up where he left off in the newspaper.

Your son knew that something might be wrong when you were smiling too much the moment all three of you entered his father’s office.  Coriolanus was fixing the documents in his desks when you sat on the plush sofa, your heavy belly more prominent.  You would have gone to your own office usually.

Harper sits on the other sofa across you, watching how his little sister sent kicks through your belly, making the fabric shift ever so slightly.

“Oh, dear me!”  You suddenly gasp and both boys look at you with concern.  “Vipsania Sickle’s afternoon tea, it’s tomorrow.”

Coriolanus raises a brow.  “She hosts afternoon tea all the time, my love.  There is no need to trouble yourself.”

“But I do not have a dress.”  You argue as you attempt to stand with great difficulty.  “And she claims this afternoon tea will best the recent one the Flickermans hosted, and mind you, that was pretty eccentric.”

Harper stands abruptly when you get off the couch. 

“Oh, no, Honey.”  You smile at your sweet boy, your hand brushing his golden head to keep it neater.  “I will have to go alone.  I would not want to burden you with scanning for dresses the entire day.”

He looks desperately at you, turns his back to his father and mouths pleas but you only smile cheekily and kiss his nose.

“I will see you later.  Have a great day with your father.”  You pat his cheek lightly.  Coriolanus comes to kiss you, although a frown is in his brows.

“Be careful, I already sent for the chauffeur.”  He tells you and you nod.

Coriolanus and Harper stand side by side to watch you leave and when the door shuts, they remain standing there staring at the door.  Eventually they glance at each other but Harper quickly evades his eyes and circles back to the sofa where you previously sat, missing you already.

“I promise I will not be a bother.”  He tells his father who has his arms crossed in his chest, looking at the boy who grabbed a high-end real estate magazine.

“Thinking of buying a property?”  Coriolanus asks as he returns to his desk.

Harper lowers the magazine to peek at his father who is now working at his desk.  “When I get old enough.”  He taps his shoes together.  “I’ll invite mother to come live there too.”

Coriolanus looks up from the document he is working with.  “What about me?”

Not expecting such a question, Harper was a bit hesitant and he stared up at the ceiling before answering his father.  “You can come too”

They minded their own business after that.

Coriolanus welcomed the silence as he got through his job without disturbances.

It was lunch time when the silence was broken.

A service trolley is being wheeled in and Harper perks up at the scent.

He gets up to greet the person who pushes the trolley and the old man dressed in a crisp suit smiles at the young boy warmly.  The man takes his leave after telling them what was under the cloches.

Coriolanus sits with Harper in the lounge as they share the hearty lunch.

“Did you get a lot of work done?”  Harper asks politely. 

You told your husband that your son is only starting to learn how to make small talks and that he should be encouraged when he attempts to start one.

“I did.”  Coriolanus nods.  “Almost done for the day.”

Harper looks at his father in astonishment.

“But it is only lunch?”

Coriolanus nods.  “I was surprised too.  But then again, I stayed up late last night.”

“You did?”  Harper raises a brow.  “Mother slept alone last night?”

The fork stills in Coriolanus’ plate and he purses his lips.  “Your mother understands.”  He clears his throat.  “And this does not happen often.”

Harper continues his lunch, not liking the subject anymore.

“How are your fencing lessons?”  Coriolanus tries to open another topic.

“I excel at it.”

“That is good.”

“Yes.”

This was much harder than Coriolanus anticipated.

He needed a topic, something that would pique his son’s interest.  Something to banish the suffocating formal atmosphere.  They are father and son, for heaven’s sake.  They are acting more like business partners, even the men Coriolanus meets do not act so awkward around him.

“When I was younger, there was this shop I often go to.”  Coriolanus says as he wipes his mouth with the napkin.  “They had the best gelato.”

Harper sets his glass of water down to listen to his father.

“The gelato that our chefs make does not even compare.”  He continues, making his voice light and playful.

Coriolanus laughs at the skeptical look on his son.

“Our chefs make the best desserts,”  Harper argues.

Harper watches as Coriolanus heads to the closet and pulls out a couple of white polo shirts.  They were identical, only differing in size.

“I use these for golfing but I figured they would work fine.”

“Work fine for what?”  Harper walks over to his father.

Coriolanus hands him the clothing with a determined smile as he places a hat atop his head.  “We’re going out.” 

Sneaking out of the mansion undetected was close to an impossibility if it were anybody else but Coriolanus was glad that the staff pretended to have seen nothing.  Harper excitedly walked close to Coriolanus as they strolled around the Capitol.  He only got to see things from the car window and everything looks so different when he treads the sidewalks.

Harper was astonished how people were simply walking past him, not even sparing him a glance.

“They don’t recognize us.”  He whispered giddily to his father who glanced at him with a grin.

Coriolanus placed a hand on Harper’s back as they entered the small shop.  It was not like the ones that Harper usually sees.  It was incredibly small, but its business was doing fairly well.  Harper saw another boy waiting for his cone, and he was almost bouncing on his heels.

Harper frowns, is this all it takes for that kid to be happy?  Even that sailboat he got from the Plinths did not make him smile that widely.

“You’re next in line.”  Coriolanus gently pushes him forward.

A wrinkly grandma is by the counter, she was wearing a pink dress, and her ears adorned by large golden hoops.  “What flavor would you want, young man?”

Harper turns to his dad, not knowing what to get.  He was just used to food being served to him, he never had to make an order before.  Coriolanus points at the options just beside the cash register and Harper bends his head back to see from under his hat.

There’s chocolate and vanilla.  Lemon and hazelnut.

“I will have the caramel, please.”  Harper says politely and the old lady nods before turning to Coriolanus.

“And a pistachio.”  Coriolanus says as he pretends to look at his wallet to avoid looking at the woman.  He was incredibly popular, he would not want to risk people recognizing him.

When Harper receives the crisp golden cone that had two enormous scoops of caramel gelato, he cannot contain his excitement and takes a bite.  Coriolanus snickers when Harper’s lips tighten as his blonde brows raise while his eyes are closed.

“You okay?” 

Harper blinks rapidly as he clutches his head. 

“I am fine…uhm okay.  I’m okay.”  He glances at the sweet old lady, wondering if his formal tone gave anything away but she appears to not have heard it.  “Thank you.  It is delicious.”

Coriolanus pays and he steps out of the shop with Harper focused on his cone, determined to keep up with the melting scoops.  Coriolanus decided to take him to the park he donated and they took a slower pace as they walked through the pathways with enormous trees lining it.

“You’re right.  This is better.”  Harper tells his father.  “I wonder if I can get them to sell their recipe.”

Coriolanus smiles discreetly, a victory.

Harper glances around the greenery, admiring the roses and the pigeons.  One decided to follow him though.  Harper looks at it from the corner of his eyes, trying not to make a sudden move that could agitate the bird.

It was persistent.

The boy quickens his steps and the pigeon hops and hops, using its wings to propel it forward.  When it tries to peck his foot, Harper sprints to Coriolanus.  “Dad!”  He grabs hold of his father’s hand and clings close.

Coriolanus halts his step and as Harper warily stares at the pigeon who flew away in fright, Coriolanus had his eyes on his little boy, who just called him ‘Dad’.

To Harper’s surprise, Coriolanus scoops him up just like how he did when he was still a toddler.  They both look at each other, a million words spoken in one eye contact.

With stomachs satiated, they walk the halls of the Presidential mansion hand in hand.

“Why do we not live here?”  Harper asks curiously.  “Most Presidents live here.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin.  “I prefer to keep my family and work separate.”

Harper nods but he pulls Coriolanus when he sees a gigantic oil painting of someone he knew. 

Coriolanus stands next to him to gaze up at the painting.

“Crassus Xanthos Snow.  Your grandfather.”  Coriolanus tells him.

“I know.  We studied his biography at school.”  Harper says as his soft small hand tightens its hold around his father’s much larger hand.  “Everybody thought it was unfair as he was my grandfather but it’s not like I knew him personally.”

Coriolanus looks at the tall painting, meeting his father’s gaze as the cold unmoving eyes stare down at him.

“I didn’t know him very well either.”  He tells Harper.  “I was very young when he died.”

Harper shifts uncomfortably, not knowing what to say.  He settles with a gentle pat to his father’s hand.  Coriolanus smiles at his boy, appreciating the attempt to console him.

“You know, even after his passing, I still felt him lingering.  His legacy was very great and it is difficult to live under his shadow.”  His smile became sad.

“I might know how that feels, dad.”  Harper slips his hand from his.  “I mean…Father.”

Coriolanus looks away from the painting to look at Harper.  “What do you mean?”

The kid sighs as he glances at him.  “You’re so perfect.  You make the best decisions.  Everybody respects you.  You are the great leader of Panem, you and mother.”

Where were you when he needed you?

“I wasn’t always like this.”  Coriolanus tells him.  “I used to make mistakes, great mistakes.  People did not respect me, they respected my name.”

Harper shrugs.  “Which makes it harder for me because even after all that, Snow landed on top.  If I fail, even after everything I have, I will be a disgrace.”

“You will not be a disgrace.”  Coriolanus grins.  “You dominate every class they put you in.  You learned Paganini’s piece and not everybody can say that.”

Scoffing, Harper scuffs his shoe against the carpet.  “But I did not mentor nor did I become a scholar under Dr. Gaul.”

“I can help you.”  Coriolanus assures him by placing a hand on his shoulder, one that Harper slaps away.

“I hate nepotism.”

This forces an amused laugh from Coriolanus.  “You don’t need it.  You are only seven and you already know words such as ‘nepotism’.”  Harper frowns at his father.  “What I am trying to say is, I can teach you.  My father was not there for me so I have no references as to how fatherhood should be but I am willing to guide you.”

“Like a mentor?”  Harper raises a brow.

“If you want, yes.”  Coriolanus pulls his hat off to ruffle his hair, Harper scrunches his nose as his hair falls to his face.  “And you can keep on calling me ‘Dad’.”

Harper grimaces.  “Only in private.”

Coriolanus laughs.  “Alright, I’ll take it.”

When you arrived later that day, Harper was fast asleep on the couch, the coat Coriolanus wore prior that day was draped over your boy to keep him warm.

“Ah, there she is.”  Coriolanus grins as you walk in with shopping bags in your arms.

You carefully set them down as you waddle to the sofa.  Coriolanus follows after you and proceeds to take your shoes off.  You sigh in contentment as he massages your tired feet.

“And how was it?”  You ask as you place a bowl of dried fruits on top of your round belly.  “Did you get to bond?”

“We did.”  Coriolanus nods.  “We snuck out.”

“You what?”  You nearly pull your foot but he tightens his hold on your toe.  “Corio, that’s dangerous.”

Coriolanus smirks at you.  “The most dangerous thing that happened was a pigeon chasing after him.”

You stifle a laugh.   Oh, you would have wanted to see that.  Strolling around the Capitol like a normal family and free from prying eyes sounds really nice.  A pout forms on your lips.

“I’m jealous now.”

Your husband caresses your calf and leans over to place a kiss on your belly.

“Perhaps when our little princess is born, we can go on more vacations.”

Nodding, you pop a dried strawberry to your mouth as you watch the smile stay on your husband’s face.  His face is glowing, eyes no longer holding a storm inside it.

“Corio, are you happy?”

His fingers still their movement as he raises a brow at you.

“When you asked me to marry you, you said a life with me might be a shot to happiness.”  You continue and he gently lifts your feet off to come sit closer to you.

“Y/N, I have made many decisions in my life and marrying you still remains to be the best one.”  He places a kiss on your nose and your eyes flutter shut, tickling your plump cheeks with your eyelashes.  “You gave me love and two wonderful children.”

You both glance at Harper as he places a warm hand on your belly.

“Everything I am today is because of you.”

“No, Corio.  You cannot give me all the credit-”

He shakes his head.  “Everything I am today is because of you.”

You feel a sting in your eyes and your eyesight gets blurry from the onslaught of tears.

“All I did was scheme.”  You laugh through your tears which he kisses away.

“And look where those schemes brought us.”  He sits tall and looks at his office.  “You brought us on top.”

Happiness was something Coriolanus thought to have been fleeting and sacrificed when in search for glory.  But it was not.  It was the culmination of everything that a person can achieve.

Money, Power, Glory.

They are something he sought for when he was young and naïve, but all three boils down to happiness.

And he was glad you stood by him.  You made him feel things he thought he had no right to.

Coriolanus is happy.  And he is loved.

And he will stain the world red to protect this life you created with him.

Quest for Happiness

[theroundbartable]

After Arthur is hit by a spell, he can suddenly hear what people think. Not all they think. Just prominent things that people have in mind, but never say out loud.

As soon as he tells his knights he can hear their worry for him, their worries shift from him to themselves. "Oh god, I hope I'm not thinking something weird." "Can he hear everything?"

Then, there is Merlin: "I've got to break that spell."

It's odd, Arthur things. Not what he thinks, but how he thinks it. There seems to be a wall of thoughts before him, a thousand things thought at once, so that Arthur can't discern them. But this one thought is prominent.

Later, Arthur just listens to people's thoughts, because he's been taught to speak when it's his turn, and with everyone speaking at once, even though it's just in their minds, he can't seem to get his turn.

Uther: I will eradicate magic. It is a pest and needs to be destroyed.

Arthur isn't surprised by that.

Merlin: Geoffrey's working hours are from nine to five, but he can't sleep, so i'll have to break into the library during lunch, but I can't do that, I have to bring Arthur lunch... Ah, he'll just think I'm at the tavern, should be fine -

THAT, on the other hand... Arthur decides to follow him

Merlin: I'm being followed.

Arthur startles at that. Merlin isn't even looking at him, how does he know? One of his funny feelings?

Merlin: is it another assassin?

Arthur: another?

Merlin: ah, I'll kill them if it gets to that

Arthur: with what? A book?

Merlin: i have to break this spell!!!

Arthur: *weaker* with what? A book?

Arthur then decides to leave. Merlin is being confusing. He sees him again at Uther's next speach.

Uther:" blah blah blah, magic has attacked us once again .... My son is suffering under an enchantmeng.... Blah blah blah.... Second purge"

Uther: we have to get rid of this pest

Merlin: Things will get better once Arthur is king.

Arthur startles once again when he sees Merlin seemingly half asleep in his usual position next to the window. His thoughts however, seem to be the loudest in the room. They aligned with everyone elses thoughts.

Merlin: Arthur is already a better king than you, Uther. Enchanted or not. I'll break the spell and then, everything will be fine.

Arthur blinks.

Uther:" Magic will not ever be tolerated in this kingdom."

Merlin: if only you knew.

Later:

Arthur: "Merlin, do you have magic?"

Merlin: yes

Merlin:" yes"

Arthur: you're not even denying it?

Merlin: i'm sorry

Merlin:" what's the point, You've already read my mind"

Merlin: i can't loose you. I love you

Arthur: "oh... Okay. Yeah. Sure. Fine... Fine fine fine"

Arthur: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

[wooataes]

a wilted rose - ljh

pairing: mafia boss!lee jihoon x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, hurt and comfort, mentions of violence and guns, injuries, bruises, crying, swearing, implied murder, slight fluff, jihoon being protective (yes, that’s a warning)

summary: an unfortunate encounter has jihoon realize his true feelings for his wife.

a/n: toyed around with the idea of mafia!boss jihoon and this is what popped out 🙊 happy new year, friends!

- tae 💜🌸✨

Masterlist

Part Two? | Ask to be added to my taglist

Lee Jihoon’s family is known as one of the most feared Mafia families in South Korea, his great grandparents having made a reputation for themselves that has been held up for generations.

Jihoon was born an only child and singular heir to the Lee fortune and the Lee legacy; having known from a young age that he would eventually end up being the leader of the Lee clan. He knew the family business was dangerous, and since being taught the ropes at 13, he knew that his relationships could be used against him from rival clans. This reason alone caused him to be cautious and callous with who he associated with. He only has two important people he would consider his friends.

His closest friend, Kwon Soonyoung also doubles as his right hand man. Both men grew up together due to Soonyoung’s father being close with Jihoon’s. Their frequent meetings caused the young men to be around eachother for long bouts of time, eventually being homeschooled together while their father’s talked business. For Jihoon, Soonyoung is the one and only person he could trust on this earth- time and time again, he has always proved his unchallenged loyalty to Jihoon and his father’s family. If Jihoon was irrational and unfiltered, Soonyoung was his voice of reason and his level-headed decision maker. To him, it was a match made in heaven.

The second person he considered his friend, or used to, was you. You came into both Jihoon and Soonyoung’s life at 8 years old, your family having been hired by Master Lee to work as live-in staff in their mansion. You were the only other child Jihoon and Soonyoung’s age, and despite Master Lee’s cold heart, he grew to treat you like his daughter and let Jihoon frequently spend his younger years playing with his two closest friends when they weren’t being homeschooled together until he was of age to get into the family business.

12 months ago, when Jihoon had just turned 25, Master Lee announced his soon to be retirement to his son. The only condition for Jihoon to step up to be head of the family business was simple but to Jihoon, was absolutely atrocious.

“I don’t understand why you think me marrying would be advantageous to the family, father.” He hisses, adjusting his chain around his neck, glaring at the stupid red rose, the Lee family staple, perfectly pinned to his lapel.

“It is not to a random woman, Jihoon.” Master Lee frowned.

“That makes it worse!” He barked, leaning his head back in frustration.

“Jihoon. You have to know that no one can be trusted in this business. I am not allowing you to marry outside of who we trust. They can slither their way into your heart and when you are at your most vulnerable, they take everything out from under you. If the enemy knows you’re committed to someone already, it keeps them from hurting us from the inside.”

“Yeah, it also makes Y/N the number one target to the enemy and they will try and swipe her away from under our noses!” He’s yelling now.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he cares too much for you. You’re too good to be associated with the dastardly business that is associated with being in the mafia; you’re a good hearted person who happily serves the Lee family alongside your just as good parents. You’re the one good thing that Jihoon has left, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t protect you.

“It’s not like you’re going to be parading her out for missions and stake outs.” Master Lee frowns. “She is only for the parties. So others know that you’re a committed man that will not waver. I guarantee you she will be protected. She will be treated like a queen in here, and she won’t ever have to see the dark side of the business. Son, I promise you.”

For 12 months, Jihoon, in the public eye was the perfect model husband with you. He stayed by your side faithfully at galas and parties, parading you around with a look of what was perceived as adoration by others. Behind closed doors however, Jihoon treated you like a ghost. Long gone was your once closest friend who you stayed up late with to binge watch stupid movies, playing video games and pranks on Soonyoung. The only thing that remained was a quiet man that only greeted you for one meal a day, to his insistence for the sake of ‘normalcy.’ In your opinion, it felt anything but. Your attempts at conversion were shut down with one worded answers or sometimes none at all, and over time, you grew to enjoy your meal with your husband in silence before going about your day around the Lee mansion alone.

Jihoon thought his father’s plan was working. For 12 months, his wife was safe and protected and never got caught up with any of the mafia business. He was in alliance with most rival clans and worked out plans and deals to work for the foreseeable future.

Sadly for Jihoon, Master Lee was full of shit.

Jihoon is frantic. The staff had alerted him while out for a meeting with an ally clan that you had been injured. They were intentionally vague with details, knowing their boss would fly off the handle at the extent to what your injuries were.

“She’s at home.” Jihoon hears Soonyoung’s voice over the phone.

“What the fuck happened, Soonyoung.” He is sure he is making his driver break at least 10 different road laws right now to get back to the mansion. He makes a mental note to contact the local police and send some generous gift baskets.

“The guards don’t know. I’m trying to get it out of them, but no luck yet.”

“She shouldn’t have been out unsupervised.” Jihoon winces, rubbing at his temples. “Tell them if they don’t give you an honest answer by the time I’m back, I will have their tongues.”

“Just go to her right now, Hoon-ah.”

Marching into the living room, Jihoon makes his presence known by the heavy thuds of his boots on the tiled floor. His eyes scan the room until they finally land on you, his childhood friend and arranged wife, sitting anxiously on the couch. He feels his eye twitch at the sight of no guards in sight, you having been left alone since you have returned.

You lift your head up shakily, your eyes widening at the sight of your husband. His long hair, usually sported in a bun atop his head is now strewn about and falling out of the elastic holding it together, suit jacket scrunched and twisted, red rose nowhere to be found. You’re astonished, having grown so used to seeing your husband with his perfect red rose on his lapel at all times. What you didn’t know that after having found out about your capture, he thrown it to the ground in frustration of his worst fears coming true.

“Jihoon?” You blink nervously.

This is the first time you’ve seen him properly (minus your daily lunches) for maybe a month. He stares intently across the room at you, scanning your body. You’re cradling your left wrist in your hand, a bruise in the perfect shape of a hand print forming around your wrist. His eyes lift to your face, his blood boiling at the sight of a small cut across your cheek, your right eye swelling up and starting to turn purple.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, biting down on your lip. “I know I shouldn’t have-“

You flinch at the sight of Jihoon striding forward, only to pause when he walks straight past you and into the kitchen, causing your shoulders to deflate. You were stupid to think your best friend had come back for only a moment. You sink sadly into the couch, curling up slowly.

Your head stays facing down at the floor as you run your fingertip over the hand print on your wrist, wincing and hissing as you press a little too hard. You sigh after a moment, moving to stand up before you pause at the sight of Jihoon’s expensive dress shoes directly in front of you.

You look up nervously at him as he reaches out, delicately taking your wrist, face neutral as he runs his fingers gently over the bruise just like you had done, eyebrows furrowing. You shiver slightly, this being the first physical contact you have felt from your husband in months. Next, he reaches forward and tucks a stray hair behind your cheek before examining the darkening bruise over your eye. At this, you see his eyes darken, heaving a heavy sigh through his nose.

“Who the fuck did this to you.” His voice is soft as he eyes you.

“I-I…”

“I need to know who did this.” He pleads.

“It was Hwang.” You whimper.

His jaw clenches. Hwang has sworn vengeance against the Lee family ever since Master Lee cut ties and alliances with the Hwang’s over his unethical practices. In Hwang’s words, he wanted to poison the perfect garden of roses that Master Lee built.

“H-he said it was a warning..” you can’t look Jihoon in the face. “T-to keep your wife on a leash or else something could happen. Jihoon, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have gone out, I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” You’re crying softly now, wincing at the pain that your swelling is causing.

You tense up as you feel something cool delicately rest on your cheek, opening your eyes to see your husband holding an ice pack gently to your face. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as he moves you so you’re sitting down on the couch once more.

“You stay here until Soonyoung gets back to look after you, okay?” He instructs you as you just stare at him, bewildered. “Do you hear me, Y/N?” You nod your head slowly as you cradle the ice pack to your cheek. “Good.”

You watch Jihoon turn around and march back towards the front door of the mansion, pointing to Mr Kim, one of the guards who has been in Jihoon’s family for years. “Make sure no one comes inside this mansion except for me and Soonyoung. You guard her with your life until he gets here.” The man nods his head sternly as he moves to stand in the doorway between the living room and the entryway.

“J-Jihoon? Where are you going?” You ask nervously as your husband adjusts the gun holster around his waist, his voice cold and deadly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m going to kill the fucker who thought he could touch my wife and get away with it.”

And with that, the door slams behind him, leaving you alone with Mr Kim eyeing the door sternly.

You stay anxiously in the living room for what feels like an eternity, waiting to hear anything from Jihoon or his guards. You jolt at the sound of the door after only 15 minutes of sitting in silence, breathing a sigh of relief as you see Soonyoung rush inside and run straight towards you.

“Soon…” you whimper as he meets you halfway, immediately pulling you close and hugging you to his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He breathes out, shaky. “The one fucking day I had to go run some errands…”

You hate the fact that Hwang probably waited for Soonyoung to be away from you to strike.

“Soon, it’s fine…” you whisper, wincing as he pulls away to look down at your face, closely examining your swelling eye.

“It’s not fine, look at you!”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” You whisper, and he just sighs with frustration, leading you to the couch and sitting you up against the cushions, laying a fluffy blanket over you.

“You’re going to sit here and we are going to watch some tv until Jihoon-ah gets back, okay?” He settles down beside you.

“Soonyoung, you can go have a shower or eat or something...” Your voice is low as he scrolls through random movies to play on Netflix.

“Nope.” He made a promise to stay with you until Jihoon gets back, and he will stay true to his word. Eating and washing up can wait.

“Y/N-ah.” Soonyoung glances at his phone after a few hours. The ice pack against your cheek is now lukewarm, your legs having shaken non-stop since you’d been forced to sit down.

“Hm..” you hum in response.

“Jihoon-ah will be home in 5 minutes. He asked for me to give you both some privacy and take care of some clean-up. Will you be okay with Mr Kim watching you?”

“Okay.” You respond nervously, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Soonyoung gently touches your good cheek with his finger.

“I’ll be in the other room making calls if you get scared between now and then. Okay?”

“Thank you, Soonie.” You whisper, looking up at him with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back before turning around and walking down the hall, leaving you alone once more as the panic begins to rise in your body.

You’re lucky you don’t have to wait long, as true to Soonyoung’s word, Jihoon steps inside his mansion and into the living room not even 5 minutes later, heaving a sigh. When you spot him, you rush quickly to him, immediately noticing the blood on his shirt and causing you to panic even more.

“Oh god.. you’re bleeding, what have I done? Your father will have me for this.” You quickly try to wipe the blood off his shirt (which you’re relieved to realize isn’t his). Jihoon surprises you both as he reaches forward to take your injured wrist again, pulling you to him and wrapping his arms tight around your waist.

He pulls your head into the crook of his neck, squeezing you to him as his chin rests on top of your head, grip tight on your shirt. You’re shaking before you just melt into his embrace, holding onto his jacket tight as he hums.

“Are you okay.” When you just nod, he pulls back to look into your face. “I need to hear it from you, Y/N. Please… just humor me.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, Hoonie.” You breathe out with wide eyes.

Why does he look so scared?

He sighs with finality before he pulls you back to him, hugging you tight for the first time since he was forced to hold you at your wedding over 12 months ago.

“We will need more security.” He mumbles to you as he holds you tight. “Guards at every post. When we go out, when you’re out in the garden, everywhere. It’s clear they know your schedule so we need to throw them off your scent.” He is talking a mile a minute as he keeps you close to his chest, afraid you’d slip away. “As a precaution, I will have guards sweep the house for any bugs they could have planted. Tonight, we will sleep in the safe house. Is that okay with you, Y/N?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You whisper, your face buried in his shirt. You don’t want to leave his side as much as he doesn’t too - this being the most affection you’ve gotten from someone in 12 months.

“Fuck.” Jihoon didn’t account for the fact his safe house only had one king size bed. “You can take the bed, okay… I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be silly.” You hum, already dragging him to the bed. “We’re both adults here. I think we can handle sharing a bed. We used to in school, right Hoonie?”

“I mean yeah, but we weren’t married then.”

“We’re only married on paper. Why are you being so iffy?” You laugh, wincing as your smile hurts your bruising cheek. Without thinking, he reaches out to cup your face worriedly, examining the bruise before rushing out to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a small ice pack to press to your cheek.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you were close, Hoon. Please.” You ask quieter now as he rocks awkwardly on his heels.

“Only until you’re asleep.” He bargains, and you nod quickly.

“Deal.”

After an awkward intermission of you both getting ready to share the bed for the first time since your wedding, you’re finally drifting off, curled up beside your husband as he sits up against the bed head, stiff as a board in sweatpants and a large jumper. Jihoon lays on top of the blankets so he can make an easy get away when you fall into a deep sleep.

He’s about to up and leave as your breathing evens out, thinking you’re asleep when he feels you shift. You scoot closer, hand finding his as your head nestles comfortably against his shoulder. You visibly relax at his warmth, your shaky hands slowing to a stop as you essentially glue yourself to his side. He tenses up, looking down at you with wide eyes as you finally fall asleep. He frowns deeply at the sight of your bruise showing before aggressively sighing to himself and wrapping his free arm around you to hold you against his chest. He is unable to resist your cuteness. That, and he wants to protect you, of course.

Jihoon refuses to sleep a wink in case someone tries to break in, but after hour four of him stroking your arm delicately with his cheek resting on top of your forehead, he feels himself drifting off.

When he wakes up, he sees you’re still cuddled up to him, but almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Soonyoung standing at the foot of the bed with a knowing smirk on his face.

“It took you long enough to treat your wife like she is your wife.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hisses out as quietly as possible to not wake you, his cheeks bright red. “If she wakes up, I’ll have your head.”

“I’m sure you will.” He winks.

“Kwon Soonyoung I swear to god if my wife wasn’t sleeping against me right now, you’d be six feet under.”

“Mhm~” he sing songs, stepping out the bedroom door.

“If you tell anyone, you’re dead.”

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[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention off him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 26

Word Count: 4.0K Paring:  Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Requested by @elizabeth916: "Supernatural" Prompt @kinktober2023: Masturbation WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), slight voyeurism, vaginal fingering, masturbation, joint masturbation

Summary: After a hard life and a close brush with death via vampire, (Y/N) is taken in by Bobby Singer and taught the way of the hunters, even if that was the last thing he wanted for her. Add Dean and Sam Winchester into the mix, and she's more involved in the hunter lifestyle than before. Now, Dean is always always at odds with the girl. Even if he was the one who asked her to join them, he's always the one getting in her way. Sam says it's because he's in love with her. (Y/N) just thinks he's stubborn. One way or another, she's gonna find out they're both kind of right.

A/N: whoop, still doing this, I will try to finish before this october 🫣🫣 I've only gotten to season 5 of Supernatural so sorry this isn't more canon-centric

MASTERLIST

Constantly being on the road provided little privacy. Being the only girl in a team of hunters made it harder to have some. Being the only girl in a team of hunters that were brothers made it nearly impossible to have any. 

But (Y/N) couldn’t complain. The Winchesters were the closest thing she had to a family, and they needed her help. 

She had lost her parents at a young age and had made a life for herself as best as she could. She was sent from foster home to foster home until, at eighteen, she met Bobby Singer by chance during one of his hunts. 

A couple of days before, she had been kidnapped by a young vampire as she walked from work and took her back to his nest, where she was fed upon from the moment she arrived. She believed she’d die there with nothing to show for her life other than a rundown apartment and a shitty waitressing job. 

But just as everything had seemed bleak, Bobby had come in swinging a machete around and killed every single one of the vampires that had resided in the abandoned warehouse. Seeing the girl who was barely clinging to life, the man took her back to his motel and waited until she had regained consciousness. 

He was sure she would scream, try to run away, or even hit him. Yet all she did was flutter her eyes open and thank him. She wasn’t afraid, nor was she angry. She had simply accepted what had happened to her as something else she had to deal with. 

“You really ain’t scared of everything I just told you?” he had asked her that night as they ate some burgers. “I mean, I just told you that you almost died because of vampires, and you were more surprised that they put pickles in your burger.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse shit in my life to find the supernatural unbelievable,” she shrugged. “With how my life goes, dying from a vampire is the least of my worries.” 

Bobby had only met one other teenager as nonchalant and used to peril, and he had not been able to help him as much as he wanted to. But he knew he would always regret if he left (Y/N) to her own devices after meeting her. So, Bobby offered her a chance at a different life. Going against everything he had ever believed, he offered her a room at his place and a new job. And she said yes. 

That answer had changed her entire existence. 

(Y/N) took to the hunting lifestyle rapidly, finding it easier than being an eighteen-year-old girl living by herself in a sketchy part of town. She invested all her time and energy to get stronger and faster, wanting nothing more than to become better and better.

Bobby tried his best to keep her life balanced, especially after seeing what the hunting life had done to John Winchester’s sons, Dean and Sam. For years, he pushed her to have a social life and do things normal young people would. Still, he couldn’t squander her determination. So, when Dean called her up one day to help him and his brother find their father, she quickly agreed, much to Bobby’s dismay. 

But once her mind was set on something, there wasn't much he could do; all he could do was hope she’d one day come back safe and sound. 

And that was the day she had lost all sense of privacy. The trio jumped from motel to motel, and there was not enough money for two rooms. Thankfully, there always were two beds and sometimes a rickety couch, not that it helped the choking sexual tension between (Y/N) and the older Winchester. 

From the moment they met, there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Sure, Dean flirted with anything that walked on two legs, but it was different with (Y/N). He wanted much more than just a one-night lay with her. He wanted the entire package–the apple pie life he’d dreamed of. 

But he wanted something different for her—something better than what he could offer. Like Bobby, he didn’t want her involved in the hunting business. He had even begged Bobby not to let her go. But Sam was right. If they had any chance of finding their father, it would have been with her by their side. Just because he had agreed to let her tag along did not mean he didn’t worry whenever they were on a mission. If he wasn’t making sure that Sam wasn’t hurt, he was worried that (Y/N) was, and more often than not, his concern came out more like hostility rather than worry. 

Much like their latest case. The three of them were sat at a diner, a giant breakfast spread on the table before them, and the only one eating was Dean. (Y/N) and Sam had their noses buried in books and laptops, trying to gather all information they could about a particular nest of vampires that had made their home in a small town outside of Detroit. 

The case was particularly personal for (Y/N). The vamps that had been running amok the town had been the same ones that had almost taken her life many years before. Just like Bobby had told her, they left an item of the person they abducted with a star drawn in their blood at the place they were taken from. The creatures looked for easy targets and always hunted in the darkest corners of the night. 

Now, (Y/N) had a plan to get to their nest, but it seemed she was the only one who thought it was a good one. “I’m just saying that it’s worth a try,” she whispered as she sipped her coffee. “I can make myself a target, and they’ll think it’s fucking divine intervention that they got the one that got away. Then you guys can follow and kill them all. I don’t see what’s so bad about that.” 

“Are you fucking serious, (Y/N)?” Dean seethed. “They could kill you on the spot. It’s too risky.”

“It’s the only plan we’ve got right now that could actually end this,” she countered. “Even Sam thinks that it’s good.” 

“All I said was that it could technically work,” the younger Winchester defended. “But I also agree with Dean that it’s too dangerous.” 

“I don’t care if I get hurt as long as we get them.” 

“It’s not about you getting hurt, (Y/N),” Dean spat, slamming what was left of his sandwich onto the plate. “It’s about you fucking dying.” 

“Well, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she countered with the same anger. “It’s my life we’re talking about here, Dean. Not yours.” 

“You’re fucking unbelievable!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he got up, grabbing his jacket in the process. “I’ll be in the room. I need to cool off.” 

Sam and (Y/N) watched as the older Winchester left the diner, a cloud of steam almost visible in his step. It wasn’t the first time he had stormed out that way; it was his standard practice when things weren’t going according to his plan. But that moment, in particular, felt different. The energy was different. 

“Okay, he needs to get over himself,” the girl muttered as she slouched in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest. “You guys cannot be the only ones allowed to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. I know I can get hurt. I signed up for this job just like you guys did.” 

“I don’t know who’s more oblivious,” Sam snickered as he popped a slice of bacon in his mouth. “You seriously don’t understand why he acts like that with you?” 

“Because he’s a total douche with a god-complex?” 

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “Because he likes you and cares about what happens to you.” 

“Oh, come on, Sammy. We’ve been through this before,” (Y/N) said. “The only things Dean Winchester cares about are his car and you. I don’t even fall in the top five.” 

“Jesus, you’re both just so stubborn,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Go talk to him, and then tell me if he doesn’t care.”

“He’s just gonna fight with me.” 

“Go, (Y/N),” Sam exclaimed. “And actually talk to him.” 

“Fine!” the young woman finally relented. “But you’re getting stuck with the research then.” 

“Like that’s ever changed,” he scoffed jokingly. “Now, go.” 

(Y/N) took the short walk back to the motel as slowly as she could, kicking a rock in her step as she fiddled with the key. It wasn’t the first time Sam had hinted at Dean’s supposed feelings for her. It had become his one source of teasing material since they had met for the first time. But she had always taken it as a joke, nothing more—just a quip a little brother used to bother his older brother. There was no way there was any truth to it. And if going to the room proved that, then that was what (Y/N) had to do. 

As she neared the motel, she caught a glimpse of Baby, and a slight chuckle bubbled in her throat. That car was Dean’s one true love, and she knew that. He treated his vehicle better than any of the women he paraded in and out of their motel rooms or even the ones who never made it out of the bars. Hell, he treated it better than her or Sam at times. 

That was the reason she had never admitted her feelings in the almost eight years she had known him. (Y/N) knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Dean had never given a single indication that he’d ever share her sentiment. Well, other than Sam’s words. But who could believe him then? 

All she needed was one sign. A simple whisper from the universe that he did share in those feelings. That the reason he fought with her so much was because there were so many emotions bottled up inside him that he couldn’t help how they came out. Just one sign. 

“(Y/N),” she heard an exhale as she neared the motel door. It was raspy and guttural, and she knew it had not come from the wind. “Fuck, (Y/N).” 

She could have been dreaming. In the supernatural world, anything was possible. But the metal doorknob felt too cold in her hand, and the key turned too loudly for it to be her imagination. Behind that door, a scene was unfolding that surpassed her wildest fantasies, and she was the main character without knowing it. 

(Y/N) opened the door slowly, pulling it upward to avoid the whining of the hinges, and she came face-to-face with something she could have only dreamed of. In fact, she was sure she had dreamt it before. 

Dean was splayed in the middle of her bed, his hard cock in one hand and a pair of her underwear in the other. He ran his hand up and down his length, easing his pumping with the leaking precum that stained him. After every few strokes, he’d bring the piece of fabric to his face, taking a long drag before muttering (Y/N)’s name once more. 

His eyes were pressed shut, and his movements were erratic. Dean was close, that much she could tell. She could see it in the way he breathed, in the way his hips stuttered, and the way his skin had grown red and flushed. Dean was reaching his climax with her name spilling from his tongue. 

“So fucking stubborn,” he croaked out as his seed spilled all over his stomach. “(Y/N), fu~uck.” 

“Good to know my underwear didn’t just disappear three months ago,” she grinned as she finally made herself known. “Didn’t take you for a panty sniffer, Deanie.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean exclaimed as he tried his best to cover himself. He pulled the sheets from under himself, pulling too hard and falling to the floor with a loud thud. “How long have you been there?” 

“Long enough to know who you were thinking about,” (Y/N) taunted as she approached him. His legs were still on the bed, and his jeans pooled around his ankles while the sheet covered the rest of his body. At any given time, she would have made fun of him; tease him until he begged her to stop. But the heat that pooled between her legs had blurred her mind, and all that she wanted was to replace the hand that was working him. “Something you wanna tell me, Dean?”  

“God, you’re insufferable,” Dean huffed as he tried to get up. “It’s not what you think.” 

“And what do I think, Deanie? What did I just walk into?” 

“I just needed to relieve some stress.” 

“Oh, and do you always relieve your stress thinking of me?” (Y/N) mewled as she knelt down, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear. He stiffened up at her closeness, trying his best not to touch her. “See what I think, Deanie, is that what Sam’s been telling me is the truth. That you like me and that you care about me. And since daddy never taught you how to express yourself correctly, you just let everything out when you’re angry.” 

Those words ignited a fire in Dean. He no longer cared about his lack of clothing or the situation (Y/N) had caught him in. All he wanted was to regain control. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he growled as he flipped her onto the ground and towered over her. “You think that just because you caught me like this, you know everything now?” 

“I know enough,” she smirked up at him as she fought against his grip. “Matter of fact, I can feel it against my leg right now.” 

“And you think it’s for you? You think you’re the only (Y/N) out there?” 

“I’m the only one you know,” she teased. “And I’m the one whose panties you were sniffing.” 

“It’s just a matter of convenience, (Y/N),” he shrugged. “You’re here. That’s that.” 

“Are you sure, Dean? Because I’ve never seen you hoard the underwear of any of your past playdates. So, why mine? And why were you jacking off with my name rolling off your tongue?” (Y/N) propped her torso up by her elbows, pressing the tip of her nose to his, testing the waters before diving in. “And what if I told you I felt the same way, Deanie? What if I said that I’ve thought of you with my own hand down my pants? That I’ve edged myself for hours thinking of what you could do to me. And it’s not a matter of convenience for me, Dean. It’s the real deal.” 

Dean couldn’t believe what the woman under him was saying. He’d gone so long thinking his feelings were one-sided that Sam only told him the things he wanted to hear. To him, (Y/N) was too smart and too beautiful ever to want to be with him. He wasn’t what she deserved, but now he knew he was what she wanted. 

“Tell me you’re messing with me,” he grumbled. “Tell me this is just one big joke.” 

“Why do you want me to lie to you, Dean? Is it so hard to believe that someone can feel something for you? That I love you?”

“You don’t mean that,” he continued. “How would you know what you feel is real? It’s not like you have a lot of options on the road.” 

“Because I’ve felt like this from the moment I met you, Dean,” she confessed. Her heart had begun hammering inside her chest, begging for a moment of rest. But that was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing she needed. “Why don’t you want to believe that I could feel this way about you?” 

“Because you deserve better, (Y/N),” he muttered softly, almost like he didn’t want her to hear it. “I’m not better.”

(Y/N) knew words were not enough to calm the doubts that drowned his mind, but she knew how she could show it. With a smile on her face, she pulled one of Dean’s hands with her own as she unzipped her pants with her other. She moved their interlocked hands to the wetness that had pooled in her core, pressing his calloused fingers on the aching bundle of nerves that had been begging for attention. “I know what I deserve,” she hissed. “And I know what I want, Dean. I want you.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he argued. But his fingers were telling another story. As if by instinct, his digits had started circling her clit, rubbing circles and shapes over the bud. “I’m damaged goods, (Y/N). I’m no good.” 

“And I’m not better,” she added. “We all have a past, Dean. It can’t stop us from living in the present.” 

“Is that what you’re doing, then?” Dean chuckled. “Living in the present?” 

“We both are, Deanie,” (Y/N) grinned mischievously, knowing she had won him over. “As soon as you give in, baby.” 

“You win, then,” he smiled. “For now.” 

Dean pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s, savoring their softness and their warmth. It was everything he had imagined and more. They moved perfectly in sync, fitting into each other’s empty spaces like they had been crafted for each other. And maybe they were. Maybe they were part of some divine plan and had no idea. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was the fact that they were together that made everything just right. 

“So, is this all because of me?” Dean taunted as he teased her folds. “This how you always are?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed in pleasure. “I can’t help it when I’m with you.” 

“Wish I had known earlier,” he grinned deviously. “I would have been taking care of you, (Y/N).” 

“I think we’ve been taking care of ourselves quite well,” (Y/N) teased. “I mean, from what I saw today, you got your system down.” 

“Oh, is that so? That mean you got your system too?” 

“Well, I have not heard any complaints yet,” she chuckled. “I kind of know my body quite well.” 

“Show me then.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter?” Dean smiled. “Get up on the bed and show me how you touch yourself thinking of me, baby.” 

Dean slipped an arm under her legs and another on her back and carried her to the bed, where he laid her body softly on the mattress. He kissed his way down her body as he rid her of her clothes, revealing the valley of her skin and marking his path with his mouth. 

“Show me,” he said as he kissed down her legs. “Show me what you do.” 

“You gotta get off me first,” she chuckled. “Or are you gonna do the work for me?” 

“As tempting as that sounds, baby, we gotta even the fields here. And we don’t have much time.” 

With a slight chuckle, (Y/N) situated herself comfortably on the bed, propping her back up with a few pillows. Just enough so she could see Dean’s form. He had dragged a chair and rested it just at the foot of the bed, his eyes firmly trained on the woman’s body. 

Soon enough, (Y/N)’s hands set off to work instinctively. They roamed her body sensuously, squeezing and kneading her most sensitive spots. As they worked their way through her skin, one rested upon her breast as the other made its way between her legs. She spread her limbs wide, giving Dean the show of a lifetime as her digits spread her folds and gathered her wetness before landing on her aching clit.  

She knew it was her hands that were touching her, but her mind quickly tricked her into thinking it was Dean’s calloused fingers running across her body. In her head, it was him that was toying with her clit, it was him that was pinching her hardened nipples, it was him that was bringing her closer and closer to her awaited orgasm. 

But it was clear that it wasn’t. Where he sat, Dean had taken his hard cock back into his hand, pumping at the same rate (Y/N) was touching herself. He slid his hand up and down his length, using his thumb to circle the head as precum coated him. In his head, it was her hand wrapped around him, squeezing softly as he tried to ride out his climax as long as he could. 

“Fuck yourself, baby,” Dean groaned out. “I’m getting close here.” 

“I always knew you were always too fast to the finish line,” she teased, concealing a moan that burst through. “Might just call you two-minute Dean.” 

“You really know how to shatter the fantasy, (Y/N),” he sighed. “Just do it, baby.” 

“Alright, but stop talking, Dean. You’re wrecking my fantasy here.” 

After Dean finally quieted, stifling a moan that was bubbling, (Y/N) continued with her work. The hand that had been touching her chest slithered down her body, sinking into her core as her other hand continued her attack on her clit. 

Moans and pants left her as she pistoned into her cunt, her digits curling at the end to bring her that much closer to her climax. She could see how hard it was for the man before her to keep up with her speed. His skin had started to redden and beads of sweat had formed across his body. His chest heaved quickly, and his movements stuttered as he held onto whatever resolution he had left. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned. “I’m so close, baby.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he stammered. “Keep going. Cum for me, baby.” 

(Y/N)’s picked up speed as she felt the tight coil in the pit of her stomach threatening to snap. She had done that dance many times before, searching, pushing, beckoning her orgasm to the brink. But it was the first time the Dean that was before her was real, close enough she could touch him. Close enough he could touch her. 

It was that very thought that had her yelling out his name as her finish washed over her body, drenching her hands in her essence. Close behind, Dean burst across his stomach with her name dripping from his tongue, his eyes firmly trained on hers. 

Dean took her into another rough kiss as they came down from their respective orgasms, her lips so irresistible he didn’t care how out of breath he was. “God, you’re perfect,” he panted. “So fucking perfect, baby.” 

“Was that everything you had dreamed of?” (Y/N) teased with a grin. “Was that what was running through your head when I caught you?” 

“Something like that,” he chuckled as he caressed her cheek. “It was more of a contact sport, if you get what I’m saying.” 

“Well, we still got some time to kill before nightfall,” she offered. “And I’ve got enough for a round two.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.” 

As Dean kissed his way down (Y/N)’s neck, a knock on the door startled them apart, sending them scrambling for their clothes. 

“Guys?” Sam called from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay with you two? We really need to get ready for tonight.” 

“Fucking Sammy,” Dean grumbled quietly, his eyes rolling as he slipped his t-shirt on. “We were just getting done talking.” 

“No fighting?” 

“We were very civil, Sam,” (Y/N) called out, trying her best to swallow the laughter that was bubbling in her throat. The pair had gotten dressed in record time, fixing the bed and brushing their hair. She was slipping on her boots when she whispered to Dean, “We are definitely getting a raincheck on that round two, Dean.” 

“Oh, you betcha, baby,” he grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to be caught in the act.” 

“Just be grateful it was me and not Sam,” she smiled before kissing him once more. “Now, let’s go kill us some vampires.”

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[bravo4iscool]

return (simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader)

fluff, colleagues to lovers (?), singlemom!reader, soft!simon, dad!simon (?), happy (open) end, protective!simon

„You taught him how to do that?“ you asked, your voice on an edge. You didn‘t know if his name really was Simon but everything pointed in that direction. „Did you teach my son how to break noses?“ your voice rose but Ghost stayed calm. „I asked you something! Did you teach him that?“ You were trembling, almost unable to control your anger.

Ghost looked at you and tilted his head. „Yes, I did teach him that. I‘m surprised you didn‘t.“ That only fuelled your anger even more.

or, you’re a retired military operator and ghost decides to spend his leave with you

word count: 6,2k

(masterlist | return pt.2)

You’ve been done with the military. After years of service and being haunted by death you decided to cut the string and leave. Price wasn’t happy but he knew there was no way he’d be able to convince you to stay, so he let you.

The minute you retired you disappeared from the screen, finding yourself a little farm in Denmark to stay. You were happy there and you saw yourself living there till the end.

You settled down with your son - the result of an unserious one night stand - and slowly started to fade away from the surface.

-

It’s a sunny summer day and you’re on your way to feed your chickens. It was still early in the morning but you were enjoying it. The mornings were the only time of the day you actually got to relax.

Your son, Louis, was a handful sometimes and you barely got any time alone since you were single parenting. You sure would’ve been able to find the father of your son but you didn’t want to. That one night stand was a pathetic attempt of yours to escape reality. You had nothing left for Louis’ father. You were fine on your own.

You were humming to yourself as you fed the chickens and collected their eggs, moving onto your two cows Martha and Marie. You got them a few years later than the chickens but by now you were used to them. They provided for you and your son and gave a reason less to leave your farm. The less you left, the better.

So, while you were busy milking the cows you noticed something was different. You couldn’t name it yet but your years with the military, especially Task Force 141, taught you to listen to your instincts.

Someone was here.

You let your eyes carefully roam, your hand ready to reach for the pitchfork but then you pause a minute to think. Whoever was watching you had enough opportunities to jump you already and they didn’t. That could only mean one thing. They weren’t here to hurt you. But before you could shrink the choice of people who could be here you decided to go on. You wanted to let them watch you for a bit longer and maybe make a mistake.

So, you stand up, gently petting Martha and grabbing the bucket of warm milk. You would make some butter out of it today.

You put the bucket onto a wood panel, which served kind of as a counter. Then you heard a silent shuffle. It was almost enough to tell you who was standing as good as directly behind you.

“What do you want, Ghost?” You turned around, crossing your arms to look at your former Lieutenant. He was - to your surprise - not wearing any tactical gear but civilian clothing. That confused you.

Why would he creep up onto you wearing anything but his gear? That wasn’t really Ghost-like. But even if he somewhat looked like a normal human being he still had his mask on.

You sighed. “If you’re here to recruit me for some kind of fucked up mission you can leave already. I won’t come. I’ve got better stuff to do.” You faced your bucket of milk again, grabbing a couple of empty bottles to fill the milk into.

You expected Ghost to leave as quietly as he appeared but he stayed. “I’m on leave,” he said and you stopped dead in your tracks.

“You’re what?” You looked at him over your shoulder, barely able to hide the shock and confusement on your face and in your voice.

He shifted, stepping closer to you. “I said I’m on leave.”

You snorted. “And you decided to spend it with barging into my life and waiting for me in my barn at fucking 5 am?”

He looked at you, his eyes almost as sharp as a knife. “You’re the only one I know who isn’t actively in the military.”

You blinked at him. “I’ll give you that,” you then sighed, still confused. “But I wouldn’t say we were the best of friends, were we?”

You always thought Ghost didn’t like you. He barely spoke to you - only if it was necessary - and, well… he wasn’t particularly easy on you anyway. He wasn’t on anybody but it seemed like he pushed you way more than the others. You constantly needed to prove yourself worthy and all that shit. It didn’t really make you like him either.

“I know,” he simply said while looking around. “Can I stay here?” His eyes met yours again. A cold shiver ran down your spine.

You thought for a moment. Normally you wouldn’t have let him stay but you needed a 2nd hand for some repairs on the farm and Louis was way too small to help you. So, technically speaking, Ghost could and probably would be of great use…

So, you answered, “Only if you help around the farm. I have some stuff to repair here and I need a helping hand. Louis isn’t ready to help yet but you’ll do.”

Something flashed in his eyes before he straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. “Okay. Whatever you need.”

You grinned. “Great. Follow me!” You left the barn, the bucket of milk long forgotten. “I only have two bedrooms, one for myself and one for Louis, so you need to sleep on the couch,” you explained with a shrug. You both knew a couch was like luxury on the open field.

“That’ll do,” Ghost grunted, speeding up his steps. For your size you walked incredibly fast. “Who’s Louis?” he then dared to ask, accompanied with him clearing his throat.

“Louis?” you laughed. “He’s my son. Turned 7 a couple weeks ago. He’s still asleep. I hope.” You glanced at Ghost and you didn’t know if you were hallucinating but he seemed to relax at your words.

-

“Mom… Why is there a scary man standing in our kitchen?” you heard Louis' strained voice. Your head shot up from where you were ducked down, searching for your shoe.

“Louis, darling.” You rushed to his side and saw Ghost staring at your son, completely shocked. “This is Ghost. He’s a…colleague of mine. You don’t need to be scared of him.” You ruffled your son’s hair, gently hugging him from the side. Meanwhile you gave Ghost an urgent look to say something. At least a hello would be nice.

He can’t just stand in your kitchen like a 6’4’’ giant with the build of a fridge, expecting a 7 year old to not be scared of him.

He quickly got your hint and cleared his throat. “Hi Louis,” he said, his eyes looking almost insecure. “I’m Ghost.” He paused again. “Nice to meet you…”

“Why are you so tall?” Louis immediately asked, angling his head to look up at Ghost’s, the fright from moments ago completely forgotten.

“I…don’t know,” Ghost answered, looking down on himself. He was indeed quite tall. Not as tall as König though.

Louis was about to talk again but then you linked yourself in. “I’m sure he just ate really well as a child.” Ghost looked at you when you finished your sentence. Why did you answer for him? He was capable of talking on his own.

You on the other hand thought he didn’t want to answer. You knew he didn’t like to talk about himself and Louis - sadly on this occasion - was very interested in other people’s lives…

Louis turned his head to look at you, then at Ghost. “Do I get as tall as him when I eat all my vegetables?” His eyes were big and you needed to suppress a laugh. He barely even knew Ghost and he already wanted to be like him in a way…

“Of course darling.” You ducked down to whisper in his ear, “Maybe you’ll get even taller.” Louis started to grin and ran off to eat his breakfast. You watched after him with a gentle smile.

When you found out you were pregnant you didn’t know what to do at first but now… Now you enjoyed every single moment with your little boy even if he was a handful sometimes. You just loved him too much to be truly angry at him…

“I can talk for myself, y’know,” Ghost muttered, staring at you. You were shocked for a moment. You just did what you thought was right. Ghost didn’t like to talk about himself.

“I’m sorry. I just…you never liked talking about yourself and-“ you wiped a couple strands of hair out of your face. “-and I know Louis likes to question the shit outta other people. I just tried to help you out.” You looked at Ghost with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

He just grunted and turned away. “Where’s your tea?”

“2nd cupboard from the left,” you sighed. You knew he was difficult at times. Why exactly did you agree to him spending his leave here? You didn’t even know how long he was on leave.

-

You looked at Ghost. Nothing more. You just looked at him sleeping. He’s been with you for, what, two weeks now and you already asked yourself, if he maybe was on permanent leave?

Back, when you were still with the 141 Price never gave you more than 5 days off. He always said: Terrorists don’t sleep, so why was Ghost still here?

You silently sighed before you retreated into your bedroom. It was weird that he already slept because he was the night in person but maybe you managed to tire him out enough…

You knew you didn’t. He was used to way more stress… He surely just acted like he slept so you would go to sleep. This man was a true mystery to you.

You tossed and turned in your bed, your thoughts dodging any attempt to fall asleep. You thought you were going crazy. Not a single technique you learned in your military days helped you, so you let out a deep sigh and stood up.

You put on some clothes and quietly tapped out of your room. You saw Ghost still laying on the couch, relief washing over you. You didn’t need him to know you weren’t able to sleep, even if he probably felt the same.

You quickly grabbed your jacket and left. Once you were outside your feet found the way on their own while your eyes started to get used to the night. It wasn’t as dark as some nights but you still could barely make out the small way that led you over the dunes.

You pulled your jacket around you, the breeze being colder than you thought. Out of habit you scanned your surroundings, making sure there was nothing suspicious.

After a short walk you reached your destination. A small wooden observation deck on top of one of the dunes. You rarely saw people coming here so this quickly turned into your place to go when you needed to be on your own.

You leant against the railing, your eyes focused on the beach and the restless sea in front of you. You felt how you immediately calmed down. You really needed this moment for yourself.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. Oh how you loved your life right now. You couldn’t wish for anything better.

You were alone with yourself and your thought for maybe half an hour before you felt a familiar presence behind you.

“I’m starting to believe you like to sneak up onto me,” you said without your eyes leaving the sea. You knew it would only be a matter of time until Ghost found you. He was a light sleeper, if he slept at all. He was a night person, just like you.

He just huffed, carefully walking towards you. He stood beside you, glancing down at you. “Why’d you leave?” he wanted to know, his eyes following your line of view. He found himself staring at the waves crashing at the shore.

“I just needed to think for a moment,” you replied, straightening your body with a sign. Ghost showed no reaction to your answer. Typical of him. Always asking, never answering.

After a couple moments of silence you decided to speak up. “Why are you really here Ghost? And don’t start with this “you’re the only non-military person i know”-bullshit! I know that you never were fond of me, so why are you here now? Matter of fact, why are you still here? We both know Price doesn’t give more than, what, four or five days of leave?” You turned to directly look at him. He was already facing you, the look in his eyes as piercing as always.

“What if I don’t want to answer that question?” he asked, slightly tilting his head. You huffed. That fucker.

“I don’t care that you don’t want to answer!” your voice grew louder. “All those years you pushed me around like some sort of…toy and now you show up in my fucking barn at freaking 5am and ask to stay with me during your leave.” You almost threw your hands in the air but warned yourself to try and keep calm. “Do you even hear how fucking…absurd that sounds?”

You tried to read the look in Ghost’s eyes but it was nearly impossible. The mask made it even harder. You took a deep breath, before continuing.

“I know nothing about you Ghost, other than maybe your last name and call sign and I worked years by your side. I’m putting an insane amount of trust into you right now, do you know that? I’m risking not only my live but most importantly my son’s by having you here so I think the least you can do is answer my question: why the fuck you are here?”

“Why…are you risking your life by having me here?” he asked, trying so hard to hide the confusion in his voice. You nearly started to scream. Was he actually stupid or did he just act like it?

“Why do you think I chose Denmark out of all the places in Europe?” You stared at him. “I’ll tell you why! It’s cause no one gives a single flying fuck about Denmark! There’re a shit ton of people after me but most importantly after you.” You pressed your index finger against his chest, unaware of how close you suddenly were to him. You heavily breathed, your thoughts clouded. “And if they find out you’re here not only you will be in danger but me and my son too. I swore to myself to leave anything military related behind the second Louis came into my life, so yes, at a certain point you’re risking my and his life.”

When you were finished you stepped back, clearly shocked about your rant. Fuck, that was embarrassing, you thought. He maybe wasn’t your superior anymore but you still had an immense respect for him. Under normal circumstances.

You wanted to start talking again to apologize but he cut you off. “I understand.” He did? “I’m causing you trouble. I’ll leave as soon as possible.” He turned to walk away and you groaned.

“Ghost! Wait!” He didn’t stop. “For fuck sake,” you cursed as you went to run after him. Insufferable man! “I didn’t ask for you to leave!” you nearly shouted and he came to a hold.

“Well, what is it then?” he snapped while turning around, throwing his hands in the air. He shouldn’t have followed you here in the first place, now he was knee deep into some shit.

“I just want to know why you’re here. I want to know what to expect of this whole thing here,” you answered. You're suddenly dangerously calm. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay if I wouldn’t be able to take the risk. I just want to know what you want here. What you really want here.”

Ghost blinked at you and you started to give up on getting an answer out of him but then he started to talk. “I wanted to spend time with you.” His voice was slightly shaking, going almost unnoticeable.

You were speechless for a moment. He wanted to spend time with…you? Who the fuck poisoned him? You opened your mouth to reply, trying to think of the right words.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he huffed, turning away again. “Do what you want with that information.” His voice was only a mumble but you still were able to hear it. Your head was spinning, not knowing what to think.

-

„You look scary with that mask.“

„I do?“

„Yea…“

Ghost smirked as Louis stared at him. You currently were in town to buy a couple of things and trusted Ghost enough to stay alone with Louis. He needed to admit, the young boy was funny.

„Why are you wearing it? Mom told me you wear it for work but you’re not working now.“ Louis tilted his head and Ghost sighed. The boy was right. He wasn‘t working right now but the mask comforted him in a maybe fucked up way. He didn’t want to take it off.

„I like how it feels on my face,“ Ghost tried to explain, looking down at Louis. „It makes me feel safe.“

„Oh…“ Louis stopped to think for a minute. „Just like my mom makes me feel safe, right?“ he then asked, staring up into Ghost’s eyes.

The older man nodded. „Yes, just like that.“

“Do you have another mask?”

“Why are you asking?”

“If your mask makes you feel safe whenever you wear it, maybe it would make me feel safe when I’m at school…”

Ghost stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Louis, the concern clearly visible in his eyes. “You don’t feel safe in school?”

“No… They always make fun of me because I only have my mom. They’re talking about their dads all the time and I don’t have one…” A quiet sob left Louis’ lips and Ghost felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest.

“They…they don’t hurt you, do they?” Ghost sat down on the grass, the barn door he wanted to fix long forgotten. He patted the stop beside him, motioning Louis to sit down. He needed to find out what was going on in that boy's school.

Louis hesitatingly sat down, avoiding Ghost’s eyes. He was quiet for a while and Ghost wanted to start talking to assure him everything was alright but then Louis broke the silence.

“They shove me sometimes,” he said, his voice quiet. “It doesn’t hurt or anything but I still don’t like it… They always call me Mommy’s boy and make fun of me because I’m not as good at sports as they are…” A silent tear was making its way down Louis’ cheek and Ghost wanted to reach out to wipe it away but…he was afraid.

“Have you ever thought of…defending yourself?” Ghost wanted to know after a while, glancing down at Louis again. “You shouldn’t just take what they throw at you.”

“I don’t know how. I never- I never even told my mom about it…” Louis averted his gaze further and Ghost knew it was because he was afraid that Ghost may think he was weak.

“Mhh,” Ghost hummed, leaning back on his arms. “Would you like to learn? I could teach you a thing or two. Nothing major of course but it could help you.”

Louis’ head shot up, an unknown sparkle in his eyes. He started to beam. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Ghost smiled under his mask. „Just some basic self defense,“ he further explain, wondering why you didn‘t teach your son. If he had kids it would‘ve been the first thing he‘d teach them. The world could and would be cruel. He would want to prepare them for it.

-

„Fuck,“ you cursed as you picked up your phone. „Yes?“ you ask, giving Ghost a quick look. You two were currently in town, grocery shopping, when your phone rang. You didn‘t know who it was. You barely had any friends.

„What?“ you almost whisper in disbelief, the grip you had on the pack of noodles in your hand loosening. Before they could fall to the ground Ghost catches them, raising his eyebrow under his mask. What was going on?

„Of course, I‘ll be there as soon as possible. Yes, thank you for calling.“ You end the call, your hand slowly falling to your side. You only manage to blink for a couple seconds. Then you grab the noodles from Ghost‘s. „Louis school called. He got in a fight, we need to pick him up,“ you explain, throwing the noodles in the cart and pushing it forward.

Ghost only followed you, knowing that he probably was the reason Louis got into that fight. Would be funny to explain that to you…

You quickly pay and rush to the car. Once everything was packed away you started the engine. For two years Louis didn’t make trouble once and now he suddenly got in a fight? What the hell?

Ghost was quiet beside you, only looking at the road ahead.

When you pulled into the parking lot of the school you sighed, pushing a couple of hair strands out of your face. „Into the hell hole we go,“ you mutter while opening the door. Before you could close it, Ghost spoke up.

„I can go with you, if you want. I‘ll look out for Louis,“ he suggested and you stopped to look at him. Was he okay? He hated social interactions normally.

„Uh, sure. You can tag along,“ you reply, clearly surprised. Ghost nodded and opened his door. You wanted to ask about his mask but as you knew him he would keep it on.

You quickly brushed down your clothes before you entered the school, Ghost trailing behind you like a guard dog. It probably looked scary to anybody else but you were very used to it. He used to do it all the time while you still were with the 141.

After a couple minutes you stood in front of the principal's office, gently knocking. The sooner you were done with this, the sooner you‘d be home.

„Come in,“ you heard the voice of the principal. You cringed. He was a weird man, always so suggestive… Weird and disgusting in your eyes. That's why you never acted on it but well… men were men, weren‘t they?

You opened the door, walking in with a forced smile. „Hello Mr. Jorgensen.“ He stood up and gave you an almost nasty looking smile. It faded when he noticed Ghost behind you.

He extended his hand to greet you, then he turned his head to face Ghost. „And you must be Louis' father, am I right?“ He extended his hand again.

You were about to correct Jorgensen but Simon dryly replied for you. „Mr. Riley.“ Jorgensen nodded, visibly swallowing.

„You may have a seat,“ he then gestures towards the chairs in front of his desk. „I‘m well aware you know why I asked you to come here,“ Jorgensen starts, folding his hands on top of his desk. „Louis has been showing…concerning behavior lately and he probably should have contacted you earlier about it.“

„What behavior?“ You ask, slightly tilting your head. Louis always was a brave kid.

You could see that Jorgensen hesitated, his eyes jumping back and forth between you and Ghost. Was he scared to talk? „He broke another boys nose,“ he ripped the plaster off, straight up looking at you.

Before he could continue Ghost spoke up. „He was defending himself.“ Now you look at your old colleague in shock. Jorgensen didn‘t do anything different.

He cleared his throat. „Mind to elaborate on that Mr. Riley?“

Ghost straightened his back, mimicking Jorgensen‘s folded hands. „Kid‘s just defending himself. He‘s been bullied for months now. What did you expect him to do? Drink tea about it?“ His voice was cold and his eyes were piercing. You saw Jorgensen swallowing.

„We‘re still trying to find out what really-“

„Are you saying he‘s lying?“ Ghost questioned, leaning forward on his knees. „Are you saying that you don‘t believe him? A child doesn‘t hit without a good reason and it especially doesn’t break a nose because it feels like it.“

You saw how tense Ghost became and you decided to step in. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder. That caught him off guard.

„Thank you for giving us that information Mr. Jorgensen but I would like to see my son now. I assure you that I- we will have a talk with him as soon as we return home.“

„I…have no doubt in that,“ Jorgensen replied, standing up. „Please, follow me.“ He walked around his desk and out of his office. You and Ghost followed.

You walked down a hallway and then another door opened. In that room sat Louis. As soon as he saw you he jumped up, running into your arms. He started to cry as you held him close.

Jorgensen cleared his throat, turning to look at Ghost. „Well, Mr. Riley, I will leave your little family alone for now. I hope we don‘t see each other again about this matter.“ Then he left, but his words didn‘t. They would haunt Ghost until the early morning hours.

„Why did you do that?“ you immediately asked Louis when he calmed down, your voice gentle. It made no sense screaming at him now. „Did…they really bully you?“

Louis only nodded, sniffing. „Simon taught me how to do that,“ he then whispered, looking at Ghost behind you. You stiffed. Then you slowly turned around and stood up.

„You taught him how to do that?“ you asked, your voice on an edge. You didn‘t know if his name really was Simon but everything pointed in that direction. „Did you teach my son how to break noses?“ your voice rose but Ghost stayed calm. „I asked you something! Did you teach him that“ You were trembling, almost unable to control your anger.

Ghost looked at you and tilted his head. „Yes, I did teach him that. I‘m surprised you didn‘t.“ That only fuelled your anger even more.

„You‘re surprised I didn‘t teach him how to break noses and punch children?!“ You jammed your finger against his chest, forgetting that your son was able to witness all this.

„Yes, I am surprised!“ he replied, his voice also suddenly strained. „Why does someone with your abilities and knowledge doesn‘t teach his child how to defend himself from a bunch of little bastards?!“ Ghost‘s eyes grew dark and he made himself taller than he probably was.

„Because I am not a blood-thirsty monster like you!“ you yell back at him, shocked by your own words. You take a step back, swallowing. You didn‘t mean to say that. You didn‘t- Louis‘ trembling voice interrupts you.

„Mom?“ Your head snaps, looking at him. The look in his eyes is terrified. „Mom please don‘t yell…“ he pleads, his voice quiet.

„I’m- I’m sorry darling…“ your own voice is shaking, as well as your hands. You swallow again. „Come on, let’s get you out of here.“ You grab his hand, leading him past Ghost.

„You wanna walk?“ you snapped at him when he didn‘t follow. You didn‘t want to see his ugly mask but you also didn‘t want to leave him here alone…

-

You were back home again, it was late and Louis was already sleeping. You were in the kitchen preparing something to eat for you and well, for…Ghost. And as if you think of the devil you felt his presence behind you. You wanted to say something but he was faster.

„I care about him. That‘s why I taught him,“ he says and you turn around. He‘s leaning against the doorframe, looking at you.

You huff, „You care about him? Please, you know him for one month! How do you already care about him so much that you’re willing to teach him how to break fucking noses!“ Your voice was strained as you tried not to yell at him.

„I’ve known you for two weeks before I started to care about you!“ He replies, his voice calm but his eyes piercing. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards you.

„Oh please, you didn‘t exchange one single word with me! You care about nobody!“ Ghost looks at you and for a second you believe you saw hurt in his eyes.

„That’s not true,“ he defends himself, coming to a hold just in front of you. You need to crane your neck to look up at him. His height really annoyed you sometimes.

„I care about people!“

You huff again, „And who are those people?“

„Johnny, Price, Gaz,“ he starts to list your former colleagues. „I care about Louis. I care about…you“ His voice fades and he turns his head away. „Believe it or not but I care about you.“

You swallow, struck by his confession. How do you answer something like that?

„If you care about me, why did you never make any effort to get to know me? I wanted to be friends with you, Ghost… Just like I‘m friends with Soap and the others.“ Your anger seemed to disappear and sadness took its place.

He didn‘t say anything and you sighed. You knew he wasn‘t good with feelings. Still, it annoyed you a little bit. You turn around, checking the noodles in the pot. The water should be boiling by now.

„I wanted to protect you…“ Ghost said after a minute of silence, his voice…unsure. He sounded even a bit insecure.

„From what?“ you ask in return, your gaze fixed on the food in front of you. You were more than capable of looking after yourself. You already had years of military experience before you joined the 141. Why, or better said, from what did he want to protect you?

“From me.” You felt his breath against your neck. Did he take off his mask? What the hell happened? “I wanted to protect you from that blood-thirsty monster I am,” he recalled the words you said when picking up Louis.

You closed your eyes, embarrassed at what you called him. He wasn’t a monster. Not to you at least…

“Look, I-” you start but he interrupts you.

“Don’t take back what you said because it’s true.” you hear his voice directly besides you ear and you can’t help but let out an unsteady breath.

You sigh, not daring to turn around. If you were right and he took his mask off you didn’t want to disturb his privacy. “Ghost-“

“Simon,” he interrupts you once again. “Call me Simon.”

“Okay.” Your gaze drifts down to the pot of noodles, carefully stirring it with a wooden spoon. “Simon… What I said- it’s not true. You’re not a blood-thirsty monster,” you try to clarify, signing once again. “I said it in the heat of the moment and-“

“And it’s true. I am who I am and I was protecting you from that.” He was placing his arms next to the stove, caging you in. You briefly closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm down. This was getting kinda…weird. Why was he suddenly talking like that?

“Why would you protect me from yourself?” you want to know, your voice almost cracking. Hell, why were you getting so emotional now?

“Because… Because I love you,” you felt his breath stutter and you wanted to reply but he just kept talking. “I love you and I have the terrible habit of getting the ones that I love killed. That was why I kept my distance. That was why I wanted to protect you from me. I didn’t want you to get hurt, I couldn’t forgive myself if you were hurt. But now, now that you left the 141 and…me I realized that maybe, maybe I should…risk it and that I should make up for all the times I hurt you because I wanted to keep you safe…”

Simon had finished and you needed a couple minutes to sort your thoughts out. He was still standing beside you, his hot breath almost burning your skin. “I…don’t know what to say,” you whisper, too overwhelmed and confused by his confession.

“Then say nothing,” he replied in a, suddenly, very gentle voice, now placing his hands on your hips. You were immediately melting into his touch. How many nights did you dream of that already? Now it was turning into reality…

He carefully turned you around to face him but you kept your gaze low, not daring to look into his eyes. If he really was without his mask-

“Look at me,” he whispers. Then you feel his hand on your chin, carefully lifting it up. You were now looking directly at him.

You were almost starstruck as you saw his face. It was…so much more handsome than you imagined it. He had messy blond hair, a little stubble and—god forbid—scars littered all across his face but you loved it.

Unconsciously your hand reached out to trace his features, slightly flinching when he grabbed it. He caressed your wrist with his thumb, slowly raising it to his mouth to press a little kiss onto it.

“Do you understand now?” he asks you, leaning down to be face to face with you. You only manage to nod, too overwhelmed by this whole situation.

He gave you a little smile, then he starts to tilt his head. “Can I kiss you?” he wants to know after a couple moments of silence and again you can’t manage more than a nod.

He smiled again before pulling you in to capture your lips with his and you feel like heaven. Was this really Simon Riley, Lieutenant Ghost, kissing you? You felt like you took a wrong turn somewhere but…it was good.

After you break the kiss he keeps you close, one of his hands on your hip, the other at the back of your head. “Let me show you that I love you,” he mutters, starting to trail kisses down your neck.

You let out a satisfied sigh, your hands finding the way into his hair. You would let him. You would let him show.

Not in bed though. He didn’t deserve that just yet.

-

„God, that kid is a handful sometimes,“ Simon groans as he flops down on your bed, belly first. You only laugh at him, putting your book aside.

„You get used to it,“ you smirk, your hand finding its way into his hair. „I‘ve been handling him for 7 years now…“ You laugh at his facial expression, pressing a gentle kiss on his head.

Before you can pull back he grabs your face, locking his lips on yours, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth. You smile into the kiss.

„You‘re gonna be the death of me,“ you chuckle after breaking the kiss.

„Better kill you with my charm, then my gun,“ he mumbles in reply, before pulling you in again. He shifts, so he’s on top of you, supporting his weight with his arms.

Your hands caress the back of his head, then his cheeks and his neck. You sigh into the kiss.

After he breaks the kiss he lays down between your legs, his head on your stomach and his arms around your waist. You softly smile down at him. Never in a million years you would‘ve thought that one day your former Lieutenant would lay in your bed, cuddling with you. It was like a fever dream…

„Everything okay, love?“ he mumbles against your stomach, looking up at you. You smile again.

„Yes, nothing to worry about.“ Your hands find their way into his hair again, gently playing with the dirty blonde strands. You were savoring this moment because it could be any day that he needed to leave again…

You were close to dozing off when he started talking again. „Price reached out to me…“

„And?“ you mumble back at him, well aware of what was to come. You were already preparing yourself for the day he‘d leave. You knew he couldn‘t stay forever.

„Said I need to come back. I’ve been gone for almost two and a half months…“ The words were heavy on Simon‘s tongue as he tightened his hold around you.

„When will you leave,“ you gently ask, continuing to play with his hair. You enjoy the feeling of him just laying on top of you. It made you feel safe. You didn‘t want him to leave you again.

„They‘ll pick me up tomorrow,“ he sighs and you don‘t even bother asking how they know where to pick him up. He managed to find you too, didn‘t he?

„Tomorrow?“ you smirk, grabbing his face to pull you up to you. „Better make the best out of tonight then, huh?“ You feel him smile against your lips, propping himself up on his arms above you.

„You damn right sweetheart,“ he whispers against your lips, leaving you a puddle. The power he had over was crazy.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Tim has worked hard at least in his opinion.

Kept Batman off the deep end, rescued him from the time stream even helped to get all of the wayward sons back under dear old dad.

He keeps tabs on everyone surveillance that would make Oracle weap.

In a way he blames his mother for how he turned out she taught him that to be left blind was to be left dead.

So his big brothers little exploits into the realm of the blood suckers isn't surprising.

It is hurtful that once again he was gonna be brushed aside that Dick assumes that Tim wouldn't follow his Robin to the ends of the earth. That he wouldn't want to live by his brothers side for all of eternity.

Both Jason and Damian have already been turned they are doing a good job of hiding but none of them ever seen to remember he was a stalker first.

He watches quietly as they plot to take down Bruce he hears as they say he would have to go down too that he would never turn against Bruce.

Yes because that is all he seems to amounted to Bruce's little tag along.

Cass being turned was the last straw it was almost too easy.

A little bit of poison in coffee that Bruce took without a second thought no odor, tasteless it's league created never even shared with Damian having a working relationship with Ra's has really payed off.

He decides to take a page out of Jason's book comes to their oh so secret base with a duffle bag.

Hook.

It's funny as he walks in the shock as if they were so good he throws the bag down making eye contact with Dick the man who gave him everything and was just gonna let him rot.

"It's Bruce if you couldn't figure it out, I can't fucking believe you after everything, you didn't even try."

He can't help the tears that flow down.

"Once again compared to Jason and Damian I'm just the left overs fuck you Dick I would have done anything for you well I'm done enjoy Gotham I set it up for you don't ever speak to me again." He growls.

Line.

He turns looking each of them in the eye he sees shock, sadness, he knows how this will go he can't wait.

"Just remember I knew I could have stopped you I didn't because at the end of the day I thought you would know, that I was always your brother before Bruce's little soldier."

He leaves heading towards his bike, pounding of footsteps arms grab around him pulling him into a chest he knows better than himself.

"I never, I wasn't gonna make you choose Baby Bird I wasn't I wouldn't hurt you you saw my actual plans please Tim your my Robin."

Sinker

"I just why didn't you, I love you Dick, I'm your brother you promised me."

"We will fix this Tim, I can't thank you enough. I shouldn't have assumed, please work with us I'll make it up, you and I against the world."

"Ok"

"Let's get back in and you can explain everything you did I love you baby bird."

"I love you big bird"

Too easy.

[enidette]

I ALWAYS WILL BE carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — violence, gun usage, reader gets injured, mentions of death, hurt to comfort (i tried at least)

carl met you in alexandria. you had lived there since the beginning of the apocalypse, so your knowledge when it comes to fighting it’s very limited. the two of you bonded immediately and it didn’t take much time for you to become extremely close. relying on each other, mostly you relying on him, for nearly everything.

he at least taught you how to shoot, and you could do it. as long as it’s either a close or still target. and you were prepared.

so maybe you weren’t that ready to go on a run or fight flesh eating dead humans… but rick was running low on people he needed to get the job done. and despite having little knowledge, you stepped up. it didn’t seem like anyone else would.

this leads you to now, in the passenger seat while carl drives around in search for a place to raid. you have to say, it was funny watching rick internally battle with letting his son and you go of all people. but you needed to scavenge and you two were the only options.

carl was just a tad on edge, not because of a fear of something happening to him, oh no. a fear of something happening to you. he hadn’t taught you what all you needed to know just to have the odds in your favor out here.

everything went well for the first few hours, you were able to get plenty of resources that negan would most likely show interest in. but of course, not everything is sunshine and rainbows in an apocalypse.

you’re both at an abandoned store a long way away from alexandria when you hear growling behind you and begin to silently panic. carl is too far from you for you to get his attention without yelling, and you wouldn’t want to do that or pull your gun in fear of drawing in more.

but your gun is all you had. all you knew how to use.

a knife couldn’t be too hard? or something sharp. you look around frantically, finding a piece of broken glass on the sidewalk near you. you wait for the walker to come to you, the overwhelming stench of death accompanied by it’s fucked face made you grimace. you shove the glass shard through it’s eye and use your knee to push the body off of you.

you make an uncomfortable noise at the dark walker blood, whatever that substance was, that dripped down your hand. you were so focused that you didn’t hear the growls of a walker coming at you from another direction. and another. another. another.

you mentally curse yourself for being weak, you shouldn’t have agreed to come here in the first place. you’re surrounded before you could even blink, “fuck it.” you mumble, clumsily reaching behind you and grabbing your gun.

you fire at the growing herd, unable to see carl’s scared expression when he realizes what’s happening. “shit, shit, shit.” he throws what he has in the car and slams the trunk hard, purposefully making a lot of noise to divert the herd from you to him.

it only works slightly, the walkers on the outer part of the herd stumble towards him. every one of them eating the bullets of his gun.

you’re honestly surprised by how many you’ve knocked down, but it’s not nearly enough. carl’s come to your rescue, yes, but the herd dissipates slower and slower. you back up the more they get closer and resort to shooting at one and stabbing at another that gets to close.

it’s working until it isn’t. you get cornered up against a broken window, your back hitting it harshly and a piece of broken glass piercing the skin. you do your best to stifle a pained noise, bending your body as much as you could without pushing it deeper and getting bitten.

your left leg comes up to stop the ones coming at you from that direction, your gun still raised and shooting at any target it could get. you hear carl’s shots get closer when a walker reaches out for you. it’s hands land on your shoulders, pushing you down. multiple pieces of glass stab into you and your hand begins to bleed from the intensity you’re squeezing the shard in your hand to numb the pain.

you head-butt the walker and twist your body to try and get free and hear a loud snap. you feel nothing, you assume it’s the walker’s bones. but your vision begins to darken from blood loss, and the last thing you see is the walker in front of you’s head getting blown to pieces.

your head is rushing, everything sounds and feels fuzzy. the surface under you is soft and everything smells clean. you blink your eyes open and look around the room, recognizing the infirmary quickly. you hear rustling before carl is face to face with you.

“oh my god…” his hands run along your body before leaning down to hug you. you wince at the contact he makes with your leg. you hear him mutter apologies before he pulls up a chair beside you. “you’re never going on a run again.”

you don’t even fight him, you just let your head fall back from the heaviness of it all. “what happened?”

carl moves his chair closer to your bed, grabbing your hand and softly running his thumb over the skin. “you lost a lot of blood, gave yourself a concussion, and broke your leg really badly.” carl laughs dryly, “you have a lot more to learn.”

you hum and giggle, reaching your hand up to feel a bandage wrapped around your head. your back is killing you and your leg is propped up. “i’m pretty banged up, huh?” you try to joke through the situation, but your smile falls when carl sniffles.

he hardly cries, unless there’s a good reason. “i could have lost you easily in that herd. you were seconds away from getting bit.” you shake your head and squeeze his hand, a way of nonverbally telling him you’re still here. “no, i just… i don’t know what i would do with myself.”

“go on.” you answer for him, looking at him sincerely. but the look in his eye is different,

“go on? there’s not a lot to live for. another one of the people i care about most dies…” carl runs his free hand down his face, “a part of me does as well.” you sigh, you knew he would say something like that. screw whatever happened to him, but something happening to you, rick, judy, michonne. he’d turn into something you wouldn’t even want to imagine.

“look at me,” carl takes in a breath, looking up with a calm expression. you can’t help but laugh a little at the tough guy he’s trying to be. “i’m still here, and as long as i can help it, i always will be.”

[imsandra]

Red to Gold

Pairing: Eris x female reader

Summary: From the fire of the past are born the flames of a new beginning.

Warning: Mentions of torture, whipping, violence, death (nothing in too much detail), Beron. Let me know if anything happens. Word count: 1183

Notes:The idea came out of nowhere, I hope you like it. Leave your comments on what you think, suggestions, everything is welcome as long as it is with the motivation to teach and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar problems.

Original story, I wrote it myself. Please do not copy or plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs and likes I receive.

Happy reading!

Master list

The sun would rise again over them.

That was what his mother always said whenever his father did atrocious things to her. His father wasn’t known for being the best; his tyranny was his strength and worth at that time, but it never led him to victory. So when Eris became the new High Lord after killing his own father, his dreams were plagued with nightmares of his past, but he always remembered his mother's words.

“The sun will rise again over us,” the Lady of Autumn would whisper to her children.

“How do you know?” Eris would always ask.

“Because one day, you'll feel that all the bad will go away, and the good will settle deep in your soul, healing the broken parts,” she said as she kissed his forehead.

“Mama, do you feel it?” he whispered. He had always been curious with her, only with her.

His mother took longer than usual to respond. She clung to her little son and answered:

“Yes, I feel it every day,” she finally said.

The little redhead, deep down, knew it was a lie. He knew his father tortured her. She thought that at 8 years old, he wouldn’t be aware of the atrocious things his own father could do. But Eris was always aware, and although he sometimes tried to defend her, which cost him several whippings, he knew his father would never show mercy to a child. So, Eris would have no mercy for him. Never.

When his brothers came into the world, he tried to protect them from Beron's torture, especially his younger brother, Lucien. The only one of his brothers with whom he formed a close bond. The only one he could save from his father's poison.

Lucien and Eris were united by their shared love for their mother. Eris tried to give him a peaceful childhood: he tried to play with him, teach him to read and write, teach him to defend himself. He didn’t care about the consequences that followed. He would do that and more for him and for his mother.

He promised himself: the sun would rise again over them.

A couple of years after becoming the High Lord of the Autumn Court, he found his mate; he found his sun. Y/N was his sun during his dark nights when the storm raged through his body. It was she, with her light, who made him shine like a diamond. His life improved with her, and his mother couldn’t be happier for him, and he couldn’t be happier with her, because he could finally live a free life.

He could never blame her for wanting freedom. Everyone deserved that. Freedom.

Now, while lying on the couch in his home with his little redhead asleep on his chest, he knew his mother was never wrong.

All the bad was going away, and the good was binding to his soul, mending his broken parts.

His little girl stirred on his chest. He gently stroked her back, with tenderness, with love, with the affection that only his mother had taught him, what it meant to be both father and mother at the same time. He swore that the moment his daughter, Emberlyn, was born, he would do whatever it took to give her a childhood full of joy and peace, everything he didn’t have. He would give it to his children.

Emberlyn was his little sun, his passionate little warrior, and even though she was now 5 years old, she was still his little baby. The little redhead claimed to be a little adult, but the fact that she was now lying on her father, her head buried in his neck, showed she was still a baby.

If those thoughts came to light, Emby would get a bit upset and tell her father to have a small sword battle until one of them won. That's why she was his little warrior.

Who would’ve thought his girl was such a fan of swords?

The scent of his mate filled the room; she had entered through the door that connected to the garden. Emby had been helping her mother in the garden they had built together before ending up in her father's arms, fast asleep.

“I love you,” Eris told his wife.

His wife only smiled radiantly before approaching him. When she reached him, she leaned in to kiss him; their lips met gently. A kiss full of so much love, soft as a feather. Both parted, breathless; if it were up to them, they would stay like that for eternity. But they had to breathe at some point.

“I love you more, dear husband,” Y/N whispered near his lips.

Eris made space for her so she could lie down with them. His wife slid onto the couch and nestled into the arm her beloved husband offered her. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder and buried her face in his neck, inhaling his rich scent.

“Maybe we should have another,” Eris said quickly.

“Another what?” the woman responded.

“Another baby,” he said with a smile.

Y/N only laughed and pulled her face out from Eris' neck. She looked at him with a smile; she would never tire of seeing his face, the shape of his nose, his kissable lips, his beautiful freckles adorning his cheeks. Eris locked his gaze with hers, and countless moments flashed through his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was building such a wonderful life as a husband, father, and High Lord of his court.

“I’ll give you all the children you want, my love,” she said with a giggle. She kissed his jaw and buried her face back in her beloved's neck.

The redhead just chuckled, causing his daughter to stir. Emby just wriggled around; she seemed to be a heavy sleeper, just like her mother.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court was more than happy. And though sometimes that happiness was clouded by horrible moments from his past, it was his present that brought him back. His doubts about not being a good father were answered in the moments he shared with his baby. She loved him and reminded him that he was raising her in the best way possible.

He would build that legacy worthy of being told in future generations.

The sun would rise again over them.

*divider by @tsunami-of-tears , thank you.

I red you!