#I love how I see one sad but sweet man who feels very old and just go “Mine now”

[scarlettjskipper]

I started playing Stray Gods after Overly Sarcastic Productions raved about it. Best decision of my life.

Also I'm soft for another tall, sad man. No regrets, he's lovely.

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ having a pregnancy scare wasn’t on rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader’s to do list anytime soon.. but alas, here they are waiting to see if two pink lines will change the trajectory of their lives forever.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of a breeding kink lol, super sweet fluff, slight humor, lots of crying

a/n: this is my not-so-subtle way of introducing babydaddy!rafe to my blog (i’ve been reading a lot of babydaddy!rafe lately.. yum) also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the second tag of this post: ‘₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader & babydaddy!rafe’

“a-are you sure you’re late?” rafe was pacing back and forth, tears pricking your eyes as you flipped through your little calendar book. “yes! i look at my calendar everyday rafe, it’s been three weeks!” you sniffled, checking for the millionth time. rafe joined you on your bed, realizing he probably wasn’t making you feel any better if he was freaking out too. “hey..” he cupped your chin, “it’s gonna be okay, baby. what do you need me to do? ‘want me to go get some tests from the store?” you cried even more, the whole thing becoming too real all at once. “i don’t know! i don’t know what to do, ray!”

he sighed, holding you as you wept in his arms. “oh, baby,” rafe rubbed your back, “you know i’m going to take care of us, of you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. he wiped the tears from your eyes, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i know.. it’s just— this is so new, and even though we don’t have a for sure answer yet, i feel like i really am. you know.. pregnant?” saying it out loud made rafe’s heart drop to his stomach. you saw the way his expression softened, his eyes flickering down to where you two held hands.

while it shouldn’t be too surprising, considering you two never use protection.. it’s still a delicate matter that rafe took very seriously. “am i gonna sound crazy if i say i hope that you are?” you took a breath, stroking the side of rafe’s face. “no. i want it too.” letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he pulled you against his chest, embracing you once again. “why don’t we find out? ‘go to the pharmacy and get some tests?” you nodded, the anticipation already feeling unbearable. “okay.” you pulled away, getting under your knitted blanket.

“you’re not going with me?” rafe laughed. “are you joking? the owner has known me forever. if he see’s us buying a pregnancy test, he’ll—” you lowered your voice down to a whisper, “he’ll know what we’ve been doing..” your cheeks heated at the thought of the sweet old man who’s known you for all of your life checking you out for a test that indicates you’ve been doing a lot more than just baking cookies. “baby, if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, and far away from any kind of civilization, everyone on this island would know what we’ve been doing.” he winked.

at his words, you shooed him out of your camper as a giggle escaped your lips. he wasn’t wrong. rafe knew all the ways to make you scream and tremble in pure bliss. it felt like forever since rafe had been out, but one glance at the heart shaped clock on your wall, and it had only been ten minutes. you laid on your back, fingertips skimming your tummy. imagining a baby, half of you, and half of rafe, a result of two worlds, both full of so much love, colliding into one and making the most beautiful creation you were sure to ever see, made a smile grace your pretty face.

now you were thinking about a nursery, wondering if you’d be painting it baby pink or powder blue. either color was fine with you. sitting up, you looked around your camper, really seeing just how small it was. you and rafe barely fit in here together, let alone with a little baby that’ll eventually grow and want to run around. now you felt sad at the indication that you might have to move out of the only place you’ve ever known. this would change your life, but with rafe by your side you felt more ready than ever. just as you were going to call rafe and politely tell him to hurry up, he walked through the door.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, so i just grabbed one of each.” rafe gave you the bag, plopping down next to you. there was about ten different tests in there, including a lot of the snacks you’d been craving over the last week. sour gummy bears, chocolate, and spicy chips mostly. taking out a pink box, you read the instructions before looking back at rafe who already had his full attention on you. “can you come with me?” without hesitation, rafe helped you up and guided you to the bathroom. “alright..” he leaned against the doorframe, watching as you unwrapped the test.

“i can’t really pee if you’re looking..” rafe had zoned out, thinking about house hunting already and wondering what kind of car seat would be the safest for a baby. “right, i’m sorry.” he turned around, swallowing the lump in his throat. rafe needed the confirmation just as much as you did, his stomach doing somersaults as he nervously bit his lip. “you okay?” he asked. you hummed, peeing on the stick before setting it down on a piece of toilet paper. washing your hands shortly after, you and rafe left the test in the bathroom as you waited in silence.

“my heart is beating so fast right now.” you laughed, on the verge of tears as rafe rubbed circles into the flesh of your thigh. “i want you to know something..” rafe whispered, “whatever those test results come out to; negative or positive, we’re going to be okay. i don’t want you to worry about a thing, alright?” your chin wobbled as you nodded, your head falling in the curve of his neck. you stayed quiet for the rest of the time, the timer on rafe’s phone going off. “oh, god..” you whimpered, motioning for rafe to grab the test. “don’t look at it, just bring it over!” you called out.

rafe walked back with his eyes closed, nearly bumping into the wall as his hands trembled with excitement. “where are you?” he kept his eyes screwed shut, in which you followed suit. “i’m right here.” you squeaked out, holding onto his wrists. “on three we’re gonna look down.” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “okay, i’m ready.” both of you smiled. “one, two, three—” both of you looked down, rafe jumping and running out of your camper as you stared down at the sight of two, very prominent, pink lines. rafe was shouting outside, the sound making you laugh as you took a seat on the couch.

“oh my god.” rafe poked his head in, your teary eyes meeting his. thankfully, he was able to read the room and calmed down a bit. “oh my god.” he repeated, kneeling down in front of you. “are you okay? are you happy?” rafe rubbed the side of your thighs, his touch providing a comfort like no other. “yes! i just can’t believe it..” you hugged him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “we have a lot of planning to do.” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. rafe could already see it. the white house, the white picket fence, both of you were already two steps closer to your dreams becoming a reality.

“yeah, we do,” he agreed, “let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” you smiled, cupping his face. “i love you so much, this is crazy.” he kissed your lips before taking the test in his hands again. “a whole baby..” you were in utter disbelief. “maybe i should take the rest of the tests?” you stood up, taking the plastic bag with you to the bathroom. by the time you finished, the sun was already setting, both you and rafe staring at the approximately ten tests in front of you. all positive. “looks like we took the breeding kink a little too seriously, huh?” you looked up at rafe through his reflection in the mirror. “that was a good one.”

[ayyy-pee]

𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕀𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Tomioka Giyuu x Female Reader

Summary: Will he survive this war? 

Will you be alright without him? 

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

or

Giyuu and reader get to work on making a baby.

Story Warning: BREEDING KINK GIYUU, LACTATION KINK GIYUU, Smut, Giyu and reader are secretly married, P in V sex, Profanity like yall should know, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Giyuu is a munch, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Creampies, Mating Press, Freaky ass Giyuu fr

Art by: michi_ia (Twitter)

A/N: This was a request from one of my amazing readers! This one shot takes place in the same universe as Hidden Affairs (Sanemi x Reader fic!) They can both be read as standalones as they involve different readers! Hope you enjoy!

It’s eerily quiet tonight. Just as it’s been for the past several weeks. A storm is brewing, slowly but surely. Giyuu feels it, they all feel it. It’s like a simmer just under the surface, waiting to boil over at any moment. That’s why all of them were called to Ubuyashiki mansion. The plan has been set in motion and Giyuu knows what his role now is.

But will he make it back alive?

That’s the question that plagues his mind at this very second as he approaches his home. He can see the dim candle lighting illuminating the space through the windows and he knows he won’t be alone once he’s inside. No, he’ll be able to see you. And it’s all he’s been looking forward to since he stepped foot on the mansion grounds.

“I’m home,” Giyuu murmurs as he slips out of his haori. He lays it carefully on the table beside the front door.

“Welcome back, my love,” your voice floats through the air like a song, calling him to you. You’re in the bedroom and when Giyuu enters, he sees you’re already snuggled into the futon on the tatami, clearly ready for bed. “How was the meeting?”

Giyuu sighs, crossing the space and falling to his knees at your bedside. He leans forward and kisses you softly, reveling in the way that you, as always, can melt away his worries with just your skin on his. “It’s…” He debates on telling you the truth. That it’s not looking good. That he and the other Hashira, the Master, are all in imminent danger and that it’s likely to come soon. But as he watches you, so sweet and caring, he knows he can’t lie to you. “I’ll have to leave…to be close. He will come soon.”

He, being Muzan. Though Giyuu doesn’t dare speak his name in his home.

“I see…”

You recover quickly, but Giyuu has already seen it. The sadness and concern that flashes across your features. He feels guilty that he’s the cause.

“And the others?” You question, trying to change the subject. You know Giyuu hates talking about matters like this with you. You dislike it as well. Because he can’t be as honest as he wants to be with you. It’s for your safety and honestly to protect your sanity. It’s enough that you’re fully aware of the position he holds as a Hashira, and yet you insist on staying with him. Not that he could ever let you go. Even though he knows it’s selfish for him to have you, he would rather be a selfish man than be without you.

“Same old, same old. Still a little strange without Uzui, but we are managing.” Giyuu kisses you again before standing. Just as you do every night, you’ve got a bath waiting for him, and he’d like to get in and soak so that he can get back to you before sleep takes you for the night.

���That’s good. Everyone is well?”

“Yes.” He purses his lips as he fiddles with the rest of his garments, debating on whether or not to tell you this. But he thinks you may find this amusing. “Shinazugawa looked as though he was seconds away from ripping my head from my shoulders before the Master appeared.”

He hears your soft giggles behind him. “Were you sitting too close to his lady again?” You tease.

Giyuu shrugs, though you can hardly see the movement. “For Hashira, they are very bad at concealing their secrets. They smell of sex every time they arrive.”

“Yes, but it’s very cute to see. I’m happy she continues to keep our secret even though she has no idea we know hers.”

Ah, yes. Shinazugawa believes Giyuu is interested in his beloved, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. See, what the other Hashira (aside from Shinazugawa’s love) doesn’t know is that Giyuu is married - happily, at that. His colleague only found this out after running into you in town, carelessly dressed in Giyuu’s haori as yours were in the wash. And when she confronted you about the very familiar garb you were wearing, you just “felt that you could trust her with their secret”. It’s worked out for you both so far. It’s made you and Giyuu’s fellow Hashira closer, and Giyuu is simply glad you have a friend who you can confide in. He doesn’t even mind playing the messenger between you two, typically passing along stories and jokes from you to his associate when you’re all called together for a Hashira meeting. 

But it’s also placed a large target on his back, a certain white haired psychopath surely waiting for the right moment to shove his blade down Giyuu’s throat.

“He believes I have feelings for her, you know? Almost blurted out their secret in a jealous rage in front of us all.”

“What?!” You gasp, scandalized. “You’re kidding.”

“No. He hates me because of it. It’s quite obvious.”

You hum, mind going a million miles a minute as you mull over this information. ��Maybe it’s due to you being so unapproachable and distant. You don’t spend much time with the other Hashira. Perhaps it makes you unlikable.”

Giyuu winces, your words touching a sore spot because this isn’t the first time he’s been told he’s not liked among the Hashira. Kocho once said something similar.

“I’m not unlikable…” he grumbles, lips curling at the corners when he hears your laughter again. You tease him too much. “I’m going to take a bath. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

++++++++++

“Shall we try for a child?”

The question leaves Giyuu’s lips before he can talk himself out of it. He debated on saving this question for the morning as he joined you beneath the blankets, but his bath left him to sit in silence with nothing but his thoughts.

Will he survive this war? 

Will you be alright without him? 

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

The prospect of a child never appealed to Giyuu before, but the closer he gets to this inevitable battle, the more it’s on his mind. If anything were to happen to him, he would not want you to be alone. He would want to leave you with something of his, something that you’ll be able to look at and be reminded of him if worse comes to worse.

“What brings this on?” You ask, more quiet than normal. “I mean you…you’ve never discussed children before.” You roll onto your side, propping your head up on your elbow. The moon casts almost an ethereal glow over you, your beauty clear even in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

He shrugs. “I suppose I’ve never thought about it.” His blue eyes gaze into yours. There’s something there, something behind your eyes that you’re not saying. If it were a no, you would say so. You’ve never been one to mince words. If it were a yes…well, you’d say that as well.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“Yes.” He sits up, pulling you into his lap. His fingers play with the strings that hold your top together, gently tugging. It loosens, exposing your collarbone to him and he can’t resist placing a gentle kiss there. “Wouldn’t you enjoy it?” His lips ghost your skin lightly, and the sigh that rushes past your lips is music to his ears. “Caring for this small person, a perfect mixture of you and I?”

You place your hands on his shoulders, head tilting to the side to make room for Giyuu as his lips explore your neck, your throat, the swell of your breasts. “Yes,” you whisper. The sleeves of your top slip from your shoulders, a new part of you exposed for Giyuu to now claim, and you let him. You let Giyuu do whatever he wants with you when it comes to this. You’re always so pliable as soon as his arms wrap around you.

“I want it,” you breathe, hands pulling Giyuu from your shoulder and cupping his face. You press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Let's have a child.”

Wide eyes beam at you in the moonlight, a look of appreciation swimming in them. How did Giyuu get so lucky to have a wife like you? His hands guide your top down, revealing your smooth skin to the night air. His lips caress your breasts, breaths ghosting over your slowly hardening nipples. He takes one into his mouth, groaning at how the soft flesh fills his mouth. Your body is beautiful — a face that would bring a god to their knees, curves in all the places Giyuu appreciates, a form that molds perfectly to his, made for him and only him.  

Giyuu lets his mind wander while his mouth presses sweet kisses to your chest. What will you be like when you’re pregnant? Will you crave for certain foods? He’s heard that that is common. What will you look like when you’re months into your pregnancy? Will Giyuu be there to witness your belly grow round with his child?

Something clicks in Giyuu’s mind at that moment. And while he’s not usually rough with you, he can’t seem to control himself when a guttural moan bubbles from deep within his chest and he wraps an arm around you, flipping you both over. He settles his hips between your legs, rolling his hips against your core, reveling when your back arches off the futon as you moan. And Giyuu dips down, capturing your mouth with his and swallowing each and every sound you make.

It’s all dry humping and moans, whispered “I love you’s” and peeling each other’s clothes off until you both lay bare. Giyuu listens to the way your breath hitches as he kisses his way down your body. His lips brush over all of your sensitive spots on the way down, only stopping when they reach the most sensitive. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths as Giyuu peers up from between your legs. This is one of his favorite views, particularly at night when the soft glow of the moon illuminates your body in such a way that he can’t help but be painfully erect.

Giyuu is a man of very few words. Everyone knows this. Even with you, he is not particularly talkative, but as Giyuu takes in the sight of you, legs spread wide and the puffy lips of your pussy coated with your arousal shimmering in the moonlight, he must let it be known. “You are so beautiful”. He licks his lips, groaning because he is eager to have you, eager to taste you, feel you, breed you.

“Wider, my love,” Giyuu commands, and you do as you're told, spreading your legs to further expose your aching cunt to him. “Perfect,” he whispers, hands coming up to caress the inside of your thighs where he plants tender kisses along the plush flesh. He leans forward, burying his nose into your core and inhaling deeply.

And this may seem odd to those whose jobs don’t revolve around breathing, but there’s something about your scent that has changed. Giyuu can’t place his finger on it. Maybe your scent smells sweeter? Or perhaps your scent is simply more intoxicating because Giyuu has reached a level of arousal that is new to him. But there is without a doubt something different.

He decides not to dwell on it any longer when a desperate and hushed “please” reaches his ears. He realizes then that your thighs are shaking, eager for him to proceed. So he presses a soft kiss to your glossy lips. You gasp quietly, back arching immediately and Giyuu takes that moment to lick a fat strip through your folds.

The groan he lets out is deep, animalistic almost. It vibrates through your core and the sensation makes you reach down, weaving your fingers through Giyuu’s dark tresses to grab hold.

“O-oh, Giyuu…” You gasp as he presses his tongue to your clit, his eyes roll back when he feels the slick pour from your core and straight into his mouth. He laps it up eagerly.

“You taste divine,” he groans into you and you moan in response, hips rolling up to grind your cunt against Giyuu’s mouth, begging for more. And Giyuu obliges, lips sealing around your clit and sucking, licking, nipping at your swollen bud until you’re practically fucking yourself on his tongue.

“Giyuuuuu,” you keen, back lifting off the futon again. You moan loudly, fingers clutching Giyuu’s hair and pulling him further into your pussy. “Right there–” you pant. “Right there! Please don’t stop–”

Giyuu grunts, wincing because his cock is throbbing painfully against his abdomen. He can feel the moisture beneath him, his tip leaking with his arousal. Surely this will stain the fabrics, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. He brings a hand to your pussy, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing tight circles. You’re thrashing, moaning his name over and over, damn near about to pull his hair out when Giyuu plunges his tongue into your clenching hole, and he has to will himself not to cum when you cry out and your soft walls clamp down on his tongue immediately. Your hips come up to meet his mouth, grinding your soaking cunt against Giyuu’s face. And he loves it.

Giyuu loves the taste of you. He’s not much of a drinker, he’ll admit. Never much cared for the taste of liquor and has never experienced being drunk in his life, but he imagines it feels similar to the way his head is swimming just off the taste of you.

By now, the futon is sticky with his precum, and it doesn’t help that Giyuu has now been mindlessly rutting against the fabric to find some sort of friction. He longs to make you cum on his tongue, but he also longs to bury himself inside you. But you make the decision for him, tugging his hair until Giyuu finally pulls his mouth away from your center. He crawls along your body, the echoing sound of his length separating from the stickiness of the bed filling the room.

He’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness and it takes him by surprise when you run your tongue from the tip of his chin, all the way to his mouth where you press your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you murmur against his lips, “how do you plan on putting a baby in me if you don’t fuck me?”

Giyuu thinks that if Muzan doesn’t end up being the death of him, you will be. He puts a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and whispering, “Forgive me, my love. I got carried away.” He slips his free hand between your bodies, a fiery heat blooming in his cheeks when he feels the way his cock is dripping onto your cunt. This is it. There will be no going back once he goes forward with this.

“When I’m done, you’ll be with child,” he says, seriously, as though it’s a fact. Because in his mind, it is. Giyuu grips his length, stroking himself slowly, rubbing his tip against your clit as he lets his mind wander briefly, and lets your moans fuel his runaway thoughts. 

His head is consumed with the image of your breasts, swollen and dripping with milk and he has to halt his strokes to stave off the sudden urge to blow his load. He’s a little surprised, actually. Giyuu has seen and rescued his fair share of pregnant women, and didn’t think twice about it. Forgot about them the moment they weren’t in his direct line of sight. But you…you who consumes his every waking thought…the idea of you with leaking nipples, allowing Giyuu to taste the delicious nectar that your body has produced? It’s a thought so arousing, he has to tuck it away mentally, save it for when he’s alone on his missions so that in the late hours of the night, when he’s wrapping his hand around his cock, the image is still fresh.

He’s not sure when he slipped inside of you, let alone flipped you both over again so that he’s now on his back while you ride him. You take him all the way to the tip, moaning loudly every time you sink onto him. The intense waves of pleasure bring time to a standstill. Your nails are sunken deep into Giyuu’s abdomen, steadying yourself as Giyuu’s hips thrust into you at a bruising pace. On a typical night, Giyuu wouldn’t be so rough with you, so greedy with you. But tonight, while his mind is focused on a single goal – ensuring he leaves you with his offspring growing inside your womb – he feels like a crazed man.

Your cries grow louder, more high pitched and your movements stutter momentarily. When you cry out that you’re going to cum, riding him faster and faster, walls fluttering around him, breasts bouncing beautifully, Giyuu’s mind is back on his prior thoughts – dripping, swollen and full…

And then Giyuu is crying out with you, gritting his teeth as he fucks up into you, emptying his balls to the point that he’s lightheaded. His vision blurs as he keeps pumping into you. He hears the squelching, feels the splashing of his seed dripping from you and onto his abdomen, and Giyuu pulls you down to take his entire length again and again until he finally comes to a halt. His hands grip your hips tight, eyes honed in on where you sit flat against him as your sweet pussy cradles his cock.

“Don’t move,” he growls, surprising himself with the gravelly sound that just left his lips. And you nod, whimpering above him. Within your walls, Giyuu can feel his length still pulsing, spurting pathetic, weak strings of his seed. This orgasm has his chest heaving, hands shaking. He grits his teeth, using his hands to rock your hips back and forth.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” he coos, finally releasing his hold on you. His fingers ghost along your skin, from your chest, over your nipples, down to your abdomen where he places his hands flat against your stomach. He focuses on fucking you deeply, burying his cock as far as he can, pushing his seed as deep as possible. “Our child will be so lucky.”

“Yes, my love,” you breathe, eyes closed while you continue to take all of him so well. “And you’ll be an amazing father.”

Your words turn him on, more than he’s ever been. He rolls you both over once more and when you’re on your back, Giyuu takes a moment to pull out and admire his work. His eyes are locked on your core, dripping with evidence of him, pulsing and hungry for more. And he’s still so hard. He wants to give you more, needs to give you more. So Giyuu slips back into your pussy easily, the lubrication from the mixture of both your releases making you both shudder.

He’s so fucking sensitive, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when your greedy cunt is still squeezing down on him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pushing forward until a knee rests on either side of your head. And Giyuu thinks he may black out, because he doesn’t know that he’s ever been this deep inside of you before. He can feel his seed spilling from you, slipping down to your ass where his balls are pressed so hard, it keeps the thick liquid from flowing any further. 

“One more…” he grits out, brows knitted together in determination. “Need to make sure it sticks.” Then he’s fucking you again, one palm resting on the back of each thigh, balls smacking loudly against your ass with every rough thrust.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” You gasp, fingers gripping the bed sheets tightly, and Giyuu whimpers in response. Your pussy is tightening around him, a vice grip already greedily trying to pull whatever he has left to offer from him.

“I want your baby,” you murmur into Giyuu’s ear and he groans, voice rough with desire. His thrusts pick up speed, searching for more pleasure.

“Do you?” He moans against your shoulder when he feels himself hit a particularly soft spot within your walls. “I’ll give you one. I swear I will –”

“Yes!” You practically scream. “Right there, Giyuu–”

“Fuck –” His eyes are closed, mouth slack as he pumps wildly into you. You’re so wet, so tight, so soft and as much as he wants to keep fucking you like this, he’s about to cum embarrassingly fast for the second time tonight. He can feel his balls get a little tighter with each sticky thrust. “Shall I b– ah…shall I breed you once more? Fill you up…ngh…until you’re dripping with my seed again?”

“Please–”

You hardly have to finish your words, because Giyuu is grunting loudly, bottoming out just as he spills himself into you, giving you every drop he has to offer. “Stay still,” he tells you, still thrusting into you, even though he can go no further. He pulls back once more, then sinks balls deep inside of you, breathing heavily as he empties himself. “Need you to take it all, my love.”

“I will,” you pant, his perfect little wife.

You stay like this for some time, Giyuu plugging your pussy until his cock softens inside you. Then he pulls out slowly when he has no other choice. You sigh in relief when you’re able to finally put your legs down as Giyuu lies beside you. He scoops you into his arms, kissing you all over your face, silent apologies for being so aggressive with you. You’re both catching your breath while Giyuu softly runs his hand up and down your spine.

“I wonder if we’ll be successful.” Giyuu mutters when the silence is too much and his thoughts become so unbearable he has to share them with you.

You wiggle out of his hold, sitting up to look down at him. You’re smiling, a cute and goofy smile that Giyuu only sees when you’re up to something. Or when you have a secret that you’re finding impossible to keep from him. So Giyuu sits up as well, brow raised in curiosity.

“What is it?” He asks suspiciously. His eyes narrow when your smile widens.

“It was successful…” You take Giyuu’s hand and press it to your stomach. “about two months ago.”

Giyuu is confused. His eyes are stuck to where you have his hand. Two months ago? Successful?

You can see the confusion clear as day, even in the darkness. “My love,” Your hand cups his cheek and like instinct, Giyuu leans into the touch. He still hasn’t torn his gaze from your joined hands. “Giyuu…look at me.”

And he does, back rigid as he stares at you with wide eyes. The cogs are turning, finally. He thinks he may have figured it out. But there’s a teasing smirk sitting on your lips, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he should believe you or not.

“A-” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Are you…?”

You pull Giyuu towards you to place a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been with child for some time. I just wanted to wait to be certain. I planned on surprising you today, but your meeting ran so late and…” Your hand covers your mouth, hiding the small giggles threatening to bubble up from your chest. “Well, it’s just so cute when you get all serious and focused like that.”

You fall back onto the bed, your pretty laughter filling the room, and Giyuu can’t help it. He laughs, too. Your laughter is so infectious he can’t resist.

It’s a strange mixture of elation, fear, maybe relief. He’d accomplished his goal before he even knew it. But with him leaving to go to the mansion tomorrow, knowing what is planned, he’s now got a new sense of dread seeping into his bones.

But it also gives him a new sense of purpose, outside of returning to you. 

Giyuu must defeat Muzan. 

Giyuu must survive. 

Giyuu must get back to his wife, to his child, to his family.

No matter what.

[fuxuannie]

❥﹒ken sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — romantic headcanons about our favourite baseball player!

✦. love mail — i finished the movie and i loved his character development, simply the sweetest thing <3

✦. tags — SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, kenji sato x reader, i have not written in several months, i wrote this w my brain off ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ) aka i was just SPITTING whatever brain rot came to mind

I imagine Kenji to be the clingy, but doesn’t want to be type. He loves you, so much, so dearly. But affection isn’t his strong suit, especially not after what happened with his family. He shut out emotions for years, at least towards others. So this feeling of love, a nostalgic one, tends to clash with the walls he’s put up. He’ll hold you in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, only for hours later to cringe at himself. He’s talked to you about it a thousand times, and he’s listened to you reassure him twice as many. He adores your patience with him, it's something he’s never really had.. especially with so much pressure on his shoulders.

Explaining his identity was surely no easy feat, you thought dating the most iconic and popular baseball players was the hardest thing? Imagine dating Ultraman, who came home to you every other week with some new injury. You always wondered why the reason was so simple for such a complicated wound, “I spilled boiling water on myself,” He explains with burn marks that are far more severe than expected. “I fell down the stairs”, he’ll say after landing in the hospital.. It didn’t make sense. And now that it does and you know the true reasons, your concern is far worse. Though he doesn’t mind the extra attention you give. ;)

Meeting his dad for the first time was.. nerve-wracking. You know how Kenji talks about him, and you weren’t sure what kind of impression you’ll make. But here you were, sitting on a couch and fiddling with your thumbs until you hear a doorbell. Before Kenji could even stand, you rushed to your feet and practically sprinted for the door, only to open it slowly and gently to reveal the kind old man standing outside. “Hello.” Cut to maybe an hour later, you’re laughing at old pictures of Kenji as he sits next to you and an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The two had a long path of forgiveness and understanding ahead, but Kenji appreciated that you brought him and his father together.

Thought the dad was scary? Imagine his daughter. As expected, the moment you walk into the room - distress. Emi’s starting to cry, an unfamiliar presence is in the room and it scares her. You’ve done a few babysitting jobs here and there, and she was really just like a child. Kenji apologized for her outburst and transforms to calm her down, opening the lid and picking her up under her arms. “No no, don’t cry.” His voice soothes her, and almost immediately - she’s okay again. It’ll take a few minutes, it really isn’t long until she trusts too you. Kenji found it adorable, how you played with her so casually.. many would be terrified, and rightfully so - but to him? It just displays your kind heart. My God did he love you.

Remember first headcanon? Right, to add to that, he’s not very good at vulnerability either. He’ll love to comfort you when you cry, or hold you when you need him. But if the roles were reversed? Absolutely not. He’s uncomfortable and you can see it, one look into his eyes and it’s like looking through glass.. he hates being open about his true feelings. Even if it’s with you.. the walls he’s built for 20 years aren’t easy to break, you know? But if you’re patient, and you take your time and say the right words – he’ll crack. And like a dam breaking, the water flows in an uncontrollable wave of sadness. He’ll sob, he’ll break, and he’ll need you more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about breaking down, but the way you hold him in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to comfort him, he could get used to it.

But on a lighthearted note, he loves dates! Most have to be in his home, because Emi can be clingy (got it from his dad), but you don’t mind. It’s sweet, he’ll have you play baseball with her or all you do is cuddle ontop of her, it’s the cutest little thing. But other times, when you go out– it’s just the two of you. And upon special request from Kenji for Mina to babysit her while you're there, you two get alone time. and it’s everything to him. The smallest affection has his heart racing like a teenage boy again, wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, kissing him? Goodness, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it. You and Emi are his world, and he’ll do everything to protect it. Other days, you, him, and and his father go out to the home in the woods for some personal time. You get to talk about his childhood with him and you talk about yours. There’s such a tender and unforgettable atmosphere when you’re with them. And you truly feel like you belong.

Overotectiveness, he was full of it. He’s lost so much, and all he wanted was for you to not go either. Nothing, nothing could stop his rage at the idea of you being hurt. You, Emi, anyone else important to him. He’ll take on the world for his family, and by the will of his parents he has. The pain he’s endured, the scars you scold him for so much are for you. If one threat escapes the city, that’s one likely chance he loses you. So he does everything he can to handle it. You’ve never gotten hurt, but the idea of it is enough for him to strive to be stronger.

While recovering from the explosion, you never left his side. It pained you to see him so still, lack of life. He’d usually be pacing back and forth in the room, rambling about something, and when you’d call him a nerd or dork, he'd run to you and playfully attack you with kisses. His arms around you tightly as you two would laugh your worries away, you didn’t have that privilege. You’d either laugh alone or not at all, the pain all too much. When he wakes up, best believe you’re there, and you just cry at the sight of his arms opening. You know his body is far too unstable for a hug, so you squeeze his hand. How grateful you are to feel him squeeze back.

With Mina and Emi gone, the house feels a little more lonely.. but Kenji’s adjusting. Especially because you moved in! He’s able to spend more time with you in bed since he didn’t have to tend to Emi, which was a nice plus. He woke up earlier than you (force of habit.) and he’d just.. stare. Maybe it was a little creepy, but seeing you sound asleep in his arms gave him such joy. He loved the little domestic moments he shared with you, it had him appreciating all the smaller things in life. Like sharing a meal with you, or watching movies together. You made him love the simpler aspects of living.

[housetargaryenloyalist]

Oh So Sweet

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Summary: Although married off at age three and ten and sent away from Kings Landing, you never forgot your first love.

Word count: 2.7K

Content warnings: Bad parenting? Some self doubt and sadness, and also fluffy flufness.

Little author's note/disclaimer: (feel free to skip this)

I haven't written anything properly in years, which means I am very very very rusty. I essentially wrote this as bit of challenge to myself and I know it is not my greatest work, but I'm still proud of it.

So I hope you will like this! Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated <3

Happy reading!

Six years, that is how long you had been gone from King’s Landing and now you were back to celebrate Jacaerys Velaryon’s 20th name day. You had come as a representative from your husband’s house. He was currently indisposed due to some nasty fever and was too unwell to make the journey, and although you wouldn't admit it aloud you were all too happy to journey alone. Eager to see the man again whom you had loved since childhood.

Your husband was an insufferable swine four times your senior who had essentially trapped you in his estate after your marriage. Not allowing you to leave unless he were to breathe down your neck, it infuriated you.

However this specific name day celebration invitation had urged you specifically to attend, therefore you could not refuse or you would risk the fury of the royal household. Their fury was not one you wished to invoke.

Although it had been six years it felt as though little had changed in the Red Keep, much still looked the same. The same Targaryen heraldry hung the walls and decorated the castle, reminding you with every step you took to whom this place belonged. In case you forgot the dragons screeches outside. Years ago your father had been a member of Viserys I’s small council and had taken your mother and you with him to reside in the Red Keep.

It had allowed you to grow up with the royal children, and in that time you had grown partially fascinated with the eldest son of princess Rhaenyra. You had grown so close to him, the both of you were practically inseparable. Close in age and proximity, it was no wonder you were such good friends. He would take you to see Vermax and promise to take you flying to wherever you wanted to go. Every time he would train, he wanted you there and every time he won, he wanted you to be the first to congratulate him. You told him legends and stories of heroes and warriors of old. 

On your tenth name day the two of you had snuck out of the party to the Godswood, it is there under the glowing moon you were discussing the future when Jacaerys had let something slip. “I want to marry you,” he had whispered in a soft voice, almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak it out loud. In response you took his hand in yours as you whispered back “I want that too.”

By the time you were three and ten your mother had discussed a potential engagement between your two houses with Rhaenyra, who hadn’t seemed opposed to it. However, this discussion between the two of them had angered your father. He didn’t want his only daughter to marry a, what in his eyes looked like, a “bastard”. It prompted him to marry you off as soon as possible.Not even two months later you were wed to some lord in the Reach far away from King's landing. It was a sad ceremony and it resulted in a sad marriage.

Early in the evening a knock at your door roused you from your sleep, the handmaidens from earlier had come back to help you get ready. They carried several boxes each revealing a different dress, in various different shades.

“What are these?” You asked as you examined the fabrics up close, they all looked to be of highest quality but you recognised none of them, they were not gowns you had taken with you.

“Courtesy from prince Jacaerys my lady,” one of the handmaidens replied, her answer leaving you shocked. Jacaerys bought you these gowns? Your heart fluttered at the thought and you couldn’t keep your smile at bay. You looked through the many options, there were dresses in shades of purple, pink, red, green.

There was even a gown in the signature black and red of the Targaryen’s, no doubt intentional from him. After a while you settled on one, the fabric feeling soft against your fingers and you had a feeling Jacaerys would be pleased with your choice.

“I choose this one.” You turned to your handmaidens, they nodded and helped you with undressing and then helped you put on the new gown. Afterwards you sat at your vanity as one of the handmaidens did your hair and the others put the other gowns back into their respective boxes. It didn’t take long before you were ready, your hair beautifully done and all the gowns put away, meaning it was now time to make your way to the throne room to join the others in the celebrations. 

The throne room looked amazing, there were tables laid out with food and wine, a large chandelier illuminating the room alongside the various candle holders. Nobles from all over Westeros were gathered here today and were mingling amongst each other. You hadn’t seen a scene so grand since the wedding of prince Aegon to princess Helaena, and even then it had not been so grand. Your arrival was announced by a courtier and as you descended the stairs you looked to the Iron throne.

Rhaenyra Targaryen sat on the throne looking as regal as you remembered her, on her left stood Alicent Hightower with her three children. You were slightly surprised the four of them attended the celebrations especially after the usurpation attempt. Although it was a short lived attempt it was still a shock for the entire realm and you were relieved to see that they all seemed to be on decent terms with each other.

King-consort Daemon stood on the right side of the queen alongside his two daughters and his two youngest stepsons. You almost didn’t recognize Joffrey, he had been so very young when you last saw him, too young for him to remember. With a pang to your heart you made your way to where they served wine and asked for a cup.

The servant handed you your cup and as you were taking your first sip the crow dispersed, the servant who had just a few moments ago announced your arrival now announced the arrival of the guest of honour. “Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of House Velaryon and House Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne.” Your eyes immediately darted up to where he stood and as you laid your eyes upon him, your breath left you. 

Jacaerys Velaryon stood in the entrance to the throne room dorning targaryen red and black, standing tall and proud. His brown curls framing his face and making him look all the more handsome. You watched him make his way through the crowd as applause followed, echoing in the large room. You felt your lungs constrict, he looked so handsome, he looked even better than how you had imagined him all these years.

It almost felt as though the Gods were taunting you. It felt unfair, so so unfair. You drank more of the wine, letting the alcohol flow through you in an effort to feel more at ease. However it had much the opposite effect.

The crown prince gave a short speech in which he thanked everyone for coming and wished everyone a pleasant evening. For a short moment you could have sworn your eyes locked but you could not be sure.

Soon the crowd made way for the crown prince and Baela Targaryen, who were going to be the first to dance as was custom. You knew it was illogical but a bitter part of you thought that it should have been you, you in his arms dancing and laughing. It should have been you standing by his side, touching his arm, caressing his face.

You drank more of your wine, before long your cup was empty and the dance had ended with applause from the attendees. The band started a new number as the prince and princess disappeared in the crowd, other dancers swarmed the floor and you felt it to be in your best interest to find some fresh air. No one was paying attention to you as you slipped through the doors, at least, that’s what you thought. 

There was a small balcony not far from the throne room, it overlooked the water and the crashing waves hid any sound from the party. You leaned against the rails as you tried to hold back tears. All these years being locked away in an estate of a man you didn’t love, with no one to keep you company.

Just for you to return to where you had longed to be and feel equally out of place. It hurt, it hurt a lot. The angry waves crashing against the shore mimicked your own frustration, you were so engrossed in watching the waves and their endless assault against the shore, you did not hear the footsteps approaching. 

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.”

You turned around faster than light could reach earth, the voice sounded so familiar yet deeper and more mature. Your breath caught in your throat

“Jace?” You whispered to the man in front of you, convinced you were dreaming. He looked even more magnificent up close, full lips and strong brows and fair skin. Jacaerys smiled at you before stepping closer. “Yes Y/n,” his hand reached out to touch your cheek and you instinctively leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. “It’s me.”

His hand wiped away the tear that escaped your eye, and as you opened your eyes again he stood so much closer. “I missed you,” you spoke as he stepped closer. “I missed you too.” His arms encircled you and you were pulled in a strong embrace “I missed you so much.”

He buried his face in your hair as he cradled you against his frame. You stood there for a while, clinging to him as though he were to disappear if you let go. The waves continued to crash against the shore, the nobles continued dancing and the music kept playing, regardless of everything at that moment it felt as though time stood still, just for the two of you.

However, you knew this wasn’t appropriate. If anyone saw you two, it would damage both your reputations, yours more than his. You retreated your hand and put it on his chest, intent on pushing him away, although you knew it would be futile.

It was you who pulled away first, although you couldn't go far. Jacaerys’ training paid off because you could not escape his arms even if you had earnestly tried. You looked into his eyes, now it was your turn to cradle his face. He turned his face slightly sideways before planting a soft kiss to your palm, a content smile gracing his face.

“We can’t Jace.” His eyes opened as pressed you closer to him. “Why not?” “It’s improper.” He laughed in response. “Why?” You slapped his chest softly  in jest, and looked at him. “Because I’m married, Jace, so we really really shouldn’t continue.” Instead of pulling away as well, he cupped your face and lowered his own face so he could look deep into your eyes.

 “I don’t care,” was all he said before his lips met yours. It felt odd to be finally kissing the man you had pined after for so long, it felt like a gift from the heavens, and it was gift you were going to cherish forevermore.

He left your lips briefly to whisper something only for you to hear, “I love you.” Before you could respond, his lips went back to yours and his hands cradled your face to prevent you from leaving. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything on this earth. Sweeter than the cakes in the banquet hall, sweeter than any fruit you had ever tasted. It was so sweet, you knew you would be addicted before long.

His hands left your face and travelled down to your back, pulling you closer to him. The kiss felt heavenly, his lips soft against your own, it was like life was brought back into you. You kissed back with vigour, your hands reaching for his neck where they crossed over one another.

Jace was quick to deepen the kiss, tugging you closer to him as if he was planning on devouring you. Your heart was racing a mile per minute, and you couldn’t help but let your hands travel. On instinct they found their way into his soft, brown curls. A soft moan escaped him as you lightly tugged on the curls, at this you smiled. In response Jace gathered your skirts and hoisted you up so you were seated on the balcony, your legs crossed behind his back on instinct. His hands travelled up and down your sides, almost tugging at the fabric so hard it would rip.

You pushed against his chest when it felt as though you were going to pass out, you needed to breathe as did he. He parted to let you breathe, and he let his head fall to your forehead. A bright smile on his face as his chest fell up and down in quick succession, mirroring your own. It was he who broke the silence between the two of you after a few moments. 

“Never leave again,” he whispered as he started trailing kisses from your cheeks to your neck, and as you opened your mouth to reply, he sucked on a specifically sensitive spot on your neck. A moan escaped your lips as a result and you could feel his smile widen against your skin. You giggled softly, “I won’t.”

He continued to lavish your neck with kisses as he did so, you could hear loud footsteps approaching, and a variety voices talking over one another. If they passed by and saw you in this position with the heir to the throne, you didn’t want to think about what was to ensue. 

“Jace-” your hands tugged on his hair, which resulted in a gorgeous moan escaping his beautiful lips -” Jace, we should stop,” you said, hand caressing the curls you had tugged on. He grumbled before raising his head, and you let your hands fall to his shoulders. “Why do you want to stop,” he asked, “did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head, “We’re too exposed, anyone could walk in on us.” You glanced to the hallway and now it seemed that Jacaerys heard the same voices that you had heard moments prior, however now they were growing ever closer. He helped you down from your position and straightened his tunic.

“We should continue this elsewhere.” At this you let out a giggle, “bold of you to assume we will continue.” The puppy eyes he threw at you in response were enough to make almost any person swoon and fall for his ploy, but you needed to remain strong. “Jace I’m serious, I am married, continuing this would be most unwise.”

He took your hand in his, and looked you in the eyes, “I promise you this." His thumb stroked over your knuckles as he continued, "I will have your marriage annulled. I will beg my mother to do it and then-” he placed your hands on his chest, ”then we can marry, as was always the plan.” You smiled at him and softly caressed his chest. “I would like that.”

The voices in the distance disappeared and emboldened you to give him a small peck. “I should return to my room now.” He nodded in return, “I shall escort you.” You shook your head with a smile. “You should entertain your guests. They will wonder where you are.” He sighed, because he knew you were right. “Very well then. I shall see you on the morrow.” You smiled and nodded before departing to your chambers.

Once at your chambers you noticed something sitting on your vanity, a small raven scroll. Upon closer inspection it appeared the letter was sealed with the crest of your husband’s house. You opened the scroll and dropped it as soon as you read its content. You followed to scroll in its descent on the floor, shocked breaths falling from your lips. The content from the scroll laid bare for all to see. 

Dear lady Y/n

It is with great sadness that we inform you that your husband has succumbed to his fever, passing away in the late hours of yesterday eve. We pray for you well being and eagerly await your return.

With regards

Maester Tansen

[frogchiro]

I feel bad for Butcher!Simon so I had an idea for him or Carpenter!König (the idea you gave me for my Shopkeeper!COD AU because he is so pathetic)

Now the idea is something for Valentine's Day

You love your favourite, pervy shop owner but have not had the courage yet to ask him out as he is so rough and gruff on the exterior to the point you think you are annoying him. So for Valentine's Day since your date turned you down you decided to dress up for you favourite shop owner as you do not see any ring on his finger!

You wear a cute, pastel dress that hugs you curves nicely to show off your figure and chub to hopefully grab their attention especially with the low cut neckline that shows off your breasts as they are pushed up by your push-up bra

You go into the shop and go over the counter to see them working. You ask little questions at first before you start complaining about being alone and how sad you are because you were hoping your date could be your future husband and father of your children which drives him up the wall by making his balls oh so tight as all they can think of is making you a mother after seeing your breasts

By the end of the night you are in his bed and having him empty his balls into you. And a few months later you have a little baby on your hips named after the holiday that blessed you with them

I'm going into this with Carpenter!König bc this just screams him and I haven't written for him in a long while <3

He's the town's loner, living on the far outskirts of the small, rural town and owns a carpentry shop that's quite well known around the area since his furniture is sturdy and very well made. However, people still generally tend to avoid him due to his massive, towering size and how he just 'unsettles people' with his stare and mysterious past, supposedly in the military.

But you never heeded the whispered rumors about the huge man, always smiling at him on the few occasions he was in town, you even took to order furniture from him yourself, always bringing him something sweet you baked as a thank you <3

Unknowingly to you, König started developing rather strong feelings for the sweet and kind girl with treats him like a normal human and not an anomaly like the rest of the town people. His lonely nights where he only had his hand and some old, crusted porn magazine are now replaced with fantasies of you, how sugar sweet you'd taste like the cookies you bring him, how your whines and squeals of pleasure would fill the empty wooden cabin :((

König swore he almost came in his pants on the spot when you waltzed into his cabin, on Valentine's Day, dressed in that cute pastel dress with a low neckline, your soft tits almost spilling over it as you sigh and whine about how this day brings out all the lonely in you, how everyone around you seems to be in happy relationships but you and you just don't get it :(( You'd love to take care of a nice partner! Maybe even mother a baby and knowing König, his domesticity/breeding kink shot through the roof with his full, aching balls squeezing almost painfully at the mention of you being a housewife :/

One thing leads to another, your feeling as they turned out to be very mutual and before you know it, the giant man has you in a mean mating press in his bed, the sheets and a few furs for keeping warm drenched in his strong, masculine musk which only makes you whine more, who knows what this beast was fantasizing about while laying here :((

This was officially the best Valentine's Day you both ever had, not only as the beginning of your beautiful, loving relationship but also the day where your little baby girl, the big, chubby and giggly Valentina, was conceived <3

[mariclerc]

Pretty like a flower | cl16

Summary: where some social media comments open up old insecurities in you.

Warnings: fluff, sad reader, reassuring Charles, social media hate.

Dating Charles is a totally fantastic experience, on one hand you love traveling the world with him and having little memories together, or just spend a quiet day at home away from your jobs. But at the same time, there are bad things, such as the lack of privacy because there are super nosy people who are not the fans, people that think they can take pictures of you every now and then and the fans themselves like to talk too much, especially about you...

The way you met Charles was the sweetest and cutest way of all, you were working at a local flower shop and he came in to get some flowers to take to his mom to decorate her hair salon — a pretty sweet gesture in your opinion, so between some babbling and shy glances at the handsome man, you helped him get the right flowers for his mother. And so the days went by, every week he went to the flower shop to get flowers for his mother and he always asked for help from the shy girl who spent her time making beautiful flower arrangements. You had no idea who he was, partly you did know who he was since Monaco is very small, but you only knew that he was a famous race car driver and that was it.

When you started dating everything was super good, normally you don't upload many things to social media since you like to keep everything private, you only uploaded some of your flower arrangements to your Instagram and other cute little things. Fans started comparing you to their ex-girlfriends, especially Alex since they had a massive break up last year, they said that you posted the same things as her on Instagram and that you were copying her, or they even said that you were soon going to do like her and become an influencer and that you only wanted him for the fame and money he could give you. And honestly, you don't think that way, you really love Charles with all your heart, he is someone so precious and wonderful to you, and you know that he loves you with all his heart.

Right now you are in your shared apartment alone, reading comments made on a gossip page about a paparazzi photo taken of you and Charles on the beach last weekend, the comments are mixed but there is one constant: all the comments are about how your body looks... Most people say: "aww, she looks so basic, Alex looked way better than her!", "I don't know what Charles saw in her, she's nothing special." "Look at her, she has no butt or boobies, she's just a board!" And the list of comments goes on and on.

“Not this again... Why do they always have to criticize what I wear or how I look? I'm just living my life with the man I love...” you sighed and you walked through the closet, looking at some of your clothes. “My favorite clothes doesn't even fit anymore, they all feel wrong.” you looked with watery eyes at your reflection in the mirror, you're wearing a mismatched lingerie, tugging your little tummy roll and small bust. “I know I'm not a model... But does everything really have to be picked apart?” you say as you look down at your short legs and big thighs with slight hair growth, even the most normal and natural thing in the world seems totally imperfect to you.

You were so focused on your inner monologue that you didn't hear that Charles has opened the door.

“Darling, I'm home! Where are you, mon cœur?” he says calling you out (my heart)

You called back with a shaky voice. “I-I'm in the bedroom...”

He enters the room and sees you crying in your mismatched lingerie, concern washing over his face. “Oh no. What's wrong, my love? Come here, talk to me.” he gathers you gently into his arms.

You sobbed into his chest. “I'm... I'm sorry Charlie, I know I'm being silly but I just feel so insecure about myself lately. All these comments talking about my body, and comparing me with one of your ex's, saying I'm not pretty enough to be with you.” you whispered with trembling voice. “Even my own clothes don't feel right on me anymore... I guess I started wondering if you only settled for me because of my boring looks and body.” you finished, emptying all your thoughts.

Charles held you while he gently caressed your hair, he knew that those comments were going to explode in you at some point, from the beginning you were always honest with him about your insecurities about yourself, something that perhaps was not so present in you before, but now — and thanks to the comments, has resurfaced again.

“Shh, don't say that stuff princess. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me, inside and out... Those people don't know us or how much we care for each other, all that matters is how you see yourself, and how I see you.” he wipes one of your tears.

You looked up at him. “But... What do you see in me? I'm not sexy and thin like models or I don't have a perfect tan like your ex... I have small boobs, big and hairy thighs and I have a tummy...” you were going to continue, but he subtly stops you.

“Stop that talk right now. You are beautiful and sexy to me in every way, I love every single inch of your gorgeous body - your mesmerizing eyes, your cute little button nose, your adorable smile. Your tummy? Is where I like to put my hand and stroke its softness when we're sleeping or taking a nap, your boobs are perfect for me, as is every soft curve.” he smiled shyly while blushing. “You're my ideal of beauty and I'm the luckiest man alive because your heart chose me... And I'm so in love with you and all of those little things that make you so unique.”

You sniffle a bit, starting to feel a little bit better. “Really? You truly think I'm beautiful just the way I am?” you asked softly.

“Oh, you're more than beautiful! You're a fiery, intelligent, compassionate queen and I fall deeper in love with you every day. The judgements of strangers mean nothing when I have your love... You are as precious and delicate as a flower, you know, blooming and growing under my touch.” he kisses your forehead and you blushed so much thanks to his words. “So dry those silly tears, mon amour, and let me show you how much you turn me on just by being yourself.” he kisses you tenderly. (my love)

You feel his words washing over you, because he's right, you should feel good in your own body and no matter how much you say you don't look good or whatever, he doesn't care because he loves you whether you've changed your style or not, because he's totally in love with you.

You kiss him back softly while your hands rest gently on his chest. “I love you so much Charlie! Thank you for always making me feel like the most special girl.”

He smiles. “You are very special to me, my darling. Never forget your worth, okay?”

As Charles gazed at you with heartfelt adoration, you suddenly became conscious of your state of dress and you blushed.

“I, um... I'm not exactly matching or covered right now... sorry.” you mumbled shyly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Charles gently took your hands, uncrossing them so he could place tender kisses to your knuckles. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about, mon amour. Please don't feel shy with me.” you bite your lip, still hesitant. Chuckling softly, Charles hooked a finger under your chin to lift your gaze to his. “You could be wearing a trash bag and still be the most beautiful sight to me... But, since you're so worried right now...”

Reaching behind himself, he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You gazed at him, momentarily distracted by his perfectly sculpted bare torso.

Charles winked playfully. “There we go, now we match. Feel better?” His boyish grin made you giggle, easing some of the tension.

“Much.” you whispered softly, poking his ribs. His breathless chuckle sent flutters through your spine.

He looks at your figure with adoration. “Pink is definitely your color, but you know how do you look way better?” he asked and you shake your head. “Wearing nothing at all...” he whispered and you blushed so much at his teasing.

Slowly, your shy insecurities began melting away under his tender and caring gaze.

Charles' hands found your waist, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “You take my breath away every time I look at you, ma chérie. So soft, feminine, sexy and all mine.” (my darling)

Leaning in, he gently nuzzled your neck, trailing light kisses that had you sighing. “Please don't ever think you're not gorgeous, because I ache to worship every single inch of you.”

His husky words and touch ignited a longing deep within you. Threading your fingers through his hair, you pressed closer, relinquishing all shyness. Your eyes met, full of smoldering desire and promise of pleasurable distraction ahead.

Your lips met in a searing kiss as strong arms lifted you, carrying you to your shared bed where all that mattered was exploring each other in a sweet and gentle intimacy. Confident in his adoration, nothing could dim your light when you're in his loving embrace.

***

A few days had passed since Charles lovingly boosted your confidence and you were starting to feel more comfortable in your own skin again as you two planned to have a relaxing Saturday at home.

That afternoon, you tidied up around the apartment while clad in just mismatched lingerie and one of Charles' oversized shirts while he was doing some errands and buying some groceries. Lost in your house tasks, you hasn't heard the front door open.

“Darling, I'm ba-” Charles started to call out before stopping short at the sight before him, you froze as well, your face flushing under his admiring gaze. His eyes slowly roamed your figure, heated with desire and appreciation for you. “Oh, mon dieu, you take my breath away, baby.” he uttered softly. (my god)

Striding over, Charles pinned you gently against the counter with his taller form and you gazed up at him shyly through your lashes. “H-Hello...” you say softly.

Charles caressed your cheek smoothly, smiling down at you with heartstopping tenderness.

“Look at you petite fleur, so radiantly beautiful in just this... I feel like the luckiest man alive.” he smiles and leans in, he began feathering kisses along your neck that had you melting. “I knew that wicked outfit served another purpose beyond laundry day.” you giggled. (little flower)

His words, coupled with how reverently his hands roamed your curves, sent desire pooling low. All traces of shyness evaporated under his loving worship.

“How do you do that?” you breathed, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. “You know... Make me feel like the most special woman alive?”

Charles met your eyes intensely. “Because to me, that is what you are - my queen, my everything. And I will spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me.”

Pulling you flush against him, you two kissed deeply and slowly, savoring each sensation. In his passionate embrace, you knew no other place you belonged more than by his side, in the spotlight of his beautiful devotion.

Charles' tender words and loving gaze never failed to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You shyly ducked your head against his chest, overwhelmed by the passion and devotion in his eyes.

“You always say the nicest things.” you mumbled shyly, playing with the hem of his shirt. His affection still caught you off guard at times, even after all this time together.

Charles lifted your chin, thumbs gently brushing over your flushed cheeks. “And I mean every single little word, ma chérie.” (my darling)

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that had you melting. Pulling back slightly, your foreheads remained pressed together as Charles simply gazed at you with endless tenderness.

“How is it that after all this time, you continue to take my breath away?” he breathed, caressing your cheek softly.

You just shrugged, embarrassed. “I don't know, I'm just me...”

“Exactly!” Charles smiled. “You're you - compassionate, beautiful, sweet, and so strong. I fall more in love with you every second of every day... You deserve to see yourself the way I see you.”

His honeyed words had you fighting back happy tears. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clinged to Charles in a tight embrace, overwhelmed by the depths of his love and care.

He held you just as close, gently rubbing your back and peppering your hair with tender kisses. “I love you so much, mon coeur. Never forget how amazing and cherished you are to me.” (my heart)

Suddenly you pulled him close to you again, you kissed him languidly, pouring every ounce of gratitude and affection into the intimate gesture.

Charles responded in kind, holding you reverently against his body. Lost in each other, you two became so enraptured that the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

All too soon, oxygen became a necessity. Breathless and flushed, you rested your foreheads together, smiling softly at one another.

You whispered. “I could stay like this forever in your arms.” you sighed contentedly and Charles nuzzled your cheek sweetly.

He smiled. “Well, then let us make a life filled with these kinds of moments, mon bébé.” he declared with quiet conviction. (my baby)

Your breath caught at the promise in his tone. Gazing deep into his eyes, you saw your future stretching ahead - a future of partnership, passion and being cherished each and every day by this beautiful soul.

Overcome, you pulled him once again into an embrace, clinging tightly as happy tears welled. In that perfect moment, all felt right in your own world wrapped in love's sheltering wings.

In the solace and security of his embrace, he slowly but surely continued renewing your self esteem each and every day. You truly feel like the luckiest girl to receive such devoted affection from your soulmate.

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

This is long, but i need to get this out of my chest:

I have made so many post defending Penelope when people talked about her issues, her traumas but right now i feel like defending Colin.

As a woman, sometimes i naturally tend to feel defensive and shield the girl but i need to be fair here. Colin's feelings and trust were deeply hurt, Colin is insecure, soft, thoughtful, introspective, sensitive and suffers with a inferiority complex, and he struggles to know his place in society and among the people he loves, on what he should do and the expectations of society from a 22 years old man.

What many don't seem to realize is that Colin, even before knowing Penelope is LW, was very insecure about what she loves in him ( and even if she did in fact love him, because she was about to marry someone else), about being worth of her, he says he wants to do something, to publish his diaries because he wants her to be proud of him…he already didn't think he was good enough for and to her. Colin is insecure about not being good enough in every aspect of his life, tbh. His lack of purpose, faith in himself and on others loving him from whom he is runs deep. His moment of vulnerability telling how much Penelope not answering to his letters affected him, his family too was very revealing. Him screaming at Pen with tears in his eyes that he felt foolish that she read his diaries and praised him as something special. This is something i've noticed even in other seasons too. The family not caring much about his need to connect and his somewhat strained relationship with Anthony, who wasn't really a good male figure to him. It's about male ego? A bit, but it's deeper than that in the series.

Another issue is, he put Pen in a pedestal too ( much like Pen did until 2x8), to be honest, and that is never a good thing, because people are not perfect. And he needed to learn all that. There is disappointment there. But, again, it goes further. It’s him not knowing her as he thinks he should. It’s him perceiving her humanity but reflecting on his own. We have to remember he's so happy because Pen chose him, because he thinks now he's someone's priority and he's someone's focus. He has the immature idea that you should be everything in every way to the person you love, and if you can't be their protector and the hero in their eyes, why should anyone love you?

Then he finds out…and his worldview crumbles. Not only Penelope broke his trust and hurt him deeply - and she never told him and never would have - and it wasn't just himself but his family too, but she shattered his belief he knew and connected with her better than almost anyone else, she shattered his barely there newly found confidence and sense of purpose, what he thought was his sense of self now. All modern sensibilities tend to be ruffled about this, but i think it's a fitting conflict that he would have issues with her being so self-sufficient, so successful while he believes himself to be less, way less than her, so to Colin she doesn't need him, and if she doesn't need him, why would she love him? Why should she love him?

Again, there is the side of him conflicted about knowing her. The pedestal was broken, because she lied to him. She is this powerful, talented, successful woman on her own, not just the pretty shy girl with sweetness and great witty personality that he loves, the one that thinks the world of him. She talked about him, she criticized him and while it rings true deep down, it rings devastation, because she could see beyond his farce and it makes him look and feel pathetic.

So he's struggling with two things: on how to love her, all of her, and how to feel good enough for her, love himself. He's trying to accept her new wonderful aspects and her hurtful flaws because he never stopped loving her, in no moment we see anything but love when that man looks at her, when that man is crying because of her and his deep sadness and longing, his anger is laced with so much love for her. He's angry at her but mostly at himself and he needs to figure it out a way to feel like he deserves to be loved by her. It fuels his issues and he also over compensates.

His hang ups with LW becomes his tangible target. Not only he sees as a dangerous thing to her, it puts her at risk, and with that in mind he can put himself in a role of her protector again, but he fixates on the idea that without Whistledown she's the Pen that he can believe is able to love him even if he's not good enough. Without Whistledown she's not so much above him and not so far from him, because Whistledown is her critical eye, it's Penelope appraising people very analytically and if she looks closely, he doesn't think she will see much in him, as she proved before with he S3 ep1 comment. He wants to get rid of it.

Sure, he's jealous too, he envies her success but exactly because he resents how much that makes him less worthy. It's also another thing that he thinks she's putting above him. He couldn't see clearly that it wasn't something outside herself (and he gets it after), but part of who she is, and all of those parts loves him. It's foolish and it's nonsensical because he doesn't understand that she has seen his flaws but she loves him anyway. He needed reassurance just as much as Pen needed. He needed her to keep on telling she loved him and why, because it heals him.

Some people were upset he didn't make love to her that day he went to get a blanket, but i get it. He wants it, he wants her so badly, you can see it. Colin has problems communicating and doing what he wants because he feels pathetic, jealous and that makes him feel worse, makes him feel shame. It’s him, not her that was the issue at that point. His connection with her runs deeper, it's respecting her and himself, with all the conflicted feelings why he didn’t.

It’s a slow process and i’m bloody glad it took its time to be resolved. But he starts understanding that his way wont help them, it wont bring them closer. He wont solve things by controlling and being the hero. He can’t change the past, he can’t change who they are. He wont solve anything by repressing his love.

Pen words help him figuring out a lot, her spoken words directed to him and her written words that he reads again. She needs him. She tells him she needs him and his love, not grand actions. He can show love and be worthy by supporting her. He starts to understand and ACCEPT that Whistledown is Pen, and loving Pen will include that part of her personality. He grasps that it was always there and it never made a difference in how much she loved being around him and him her, how much attention she dedicated to him, how much her words, in her letters, were full of admiration for him, to her love to him, how much she is his special person. She needs him just as much he needs her, she needs his love, his charm, his intelligence, his humor, his integrity, she needs him because without him she doesn’t feel complete, she doesn’t feel happy. He’s a good man, a fine man that makes her happy, always have. And he realizes she inspires him, she always had, and that isn't a problem, that having her helping him is not a problem, because he helps her too in many ways. It’s only when he can accept himself as equal and entitled to her love as she is to his that they could truly be together and happy.

Colin had the right to feel hurt, had the right to have his insecurities, had the right to need time and had the right to need space, had the right to lash out, had the right to come to term with the changes and surprises life threw at him, specially as a sensitive person that he very much is, and i'm glad the show didn't rush that.

[rosenclaws]

Happy Birthday Old Man || Old Man!Logan drabble

warnings: none, maybe a little sad

a/n: I can't believe Hugh is 56. He's now 33 years older than me. For now. (it'll be 32 next week but that's not much better oops)

come join my discord server!

Logan's back ached worse than normal today. It's been a pretty shit day to be fair. The fall weather only made his bones creak more and it's homecoming season meaning all those asshole rich kids with daddies money rent a limo. Stupid high schoolers who think they're being sneaky with their drinking making a mess in his car. He charged double the price after one of them puked all over his seats.

Glancing at the clock in his limo he sees that its finally time to go home. His mind drifts as he drives and drives. Only thinking about you as he nears closer to home. A part of him wonders why you're still here. He can't give you the best life. He can't give you any life. He's dying. Still you stay with him. Taking care of him. Why? He'll never really understand. As he pulls into the dark driveway he sees the lights still on in the kitchen.

"Honey," He calls as he stumbles inside.

"Logan!" You smile as you appear from the kitchen. It's nearly 3 in the morning and yet the smile on your face stays. He collapses into a chair. Groaning as his bones creak and pain shoots through his whole body.

"I'm alright." He says with a tired smile, he's lying but he can't stand to see you look so pitiful. Not at him. You sigh as you go over and start to massage his shoulders. Kissing his forehead as he melts into your touch.

"Are you hungry?" You ask. He nods. To be honest he doesn't really eat much anymore. At least nothing healthy. You disappear into the kitchen only to come back covering something with your hands. Slowly you move your hand to reveal a small cupcake with a candle in it.

"What's this honey?" You place the cupcake by his side and smile.

"It's your birthday." He furrows his brows as he thinks. Was it really? God he lost track of his birthday a long time ago.

"You sure?" You laugh and bring the cupcake up to his face.

"Very. Charles told me a while ago. I know that you aren't big on celebration but..." You drift off, starting to regret your silly little idea. He breathes in and blows out the candle. Suppressing a cough as he plucks the candle out.

"Thanks." He digs his finger into the frosting. It's sweet, just like you. It's also homemade. He can see the flour on your face and clothes.

He almost feels guilty. For being the lucky one who gets your love. All your hard work just to make him a cupcake for the birthday he forgot about. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? He rips off a piece of the cupcake and holds it up to your mouth. Feeding you the soft cake and getting frosting on your face.

"Logan," You gently scold him. Picking up some of the frosting yourself and smearing it on his cheek.

"Hey!" He smacks your hand away and pulls you into his lap. He kisses the frosting off your face and you gently wipe away the frosting on his cheek. He groans when he moves just a little too quick and you get off of him immediately. Settling in between his legs instead.

"I'm fine honey, promise." You smile and rest your head on his knees. You try to hide your sadness as you look at the man in front of you. You love him and you don't know how much time you have left with him. But you push that thought away. It's his birthday. Another year and he's still here.

"Happy birthday Logan." You stay by his side as he rests in the chair. Basking in the soft moment for as long as you can.

"Thank you honey," Happy birthday to the old man.

Now all you can do is hope he makes it to his next one.

[ghostssweetgirl]

Yo me again lol, after reading that lil comfort Simon fic u did me , was curious to how the other 141 boys + König would react to sad fem reader just wanting to be held 👀

141 + König & How They Would React to You Wanting to be Held

You know I got you!

Captain Price

He's a big teddy bear, forreal now. Like always giving the best hugs, and always encourages you with little pats on the back, his voice as smooth as honey when he asks you if you're okay.

He always knew when you were having an emotional day, and was always ready to be your support.

Hates seeing you cry, it nearly brings this old man to tears.

But he enjoys holding you, enjoys being the one that makes you feel better and back to your normal self.

In fact, he was about to check on you before you knock on his office door.

You meet his eyes with your swollen ones, slightly puffy from stuffing your face into your pillow while you cried. Before you could say anything, you could hear the concern in his tone.

"You a'right there, kid?" he tilted his head, putting all of his attention on you.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought about it. "Not really."

"Ah, I knew it," he chuckled as he leaned back in his desk chair. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No," you shrugged. "'M fine. Jus' wanna be held. Could you help me with that?"

He pat his lap as he belted out a hearty chuckle. "Right, come on, then."

This. This is what made him happy. It made his day when he made yours better. He gently patted your back while you got comfy, resting your head on his chest for God knows how long. It just felt nice to be in his strong, warm embrace. For Christ's sake, the man even put out his cigar to attend to you - fully.

You went to sit up but he pulled you back into his chest. "Nope, not done holding you yet." He didn't say it outright, but he needed it, too. Plus him holding you there while you playfully tried to get away made you giggle, which he loved to hear.

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Absolutely elated that you wanted him to hold you.

100% will put down anything he's doing to make you feel better.

Really good at comforting you with his words, he's so selfless.

He knew when you were sad, but never pushed as to not intrude in your personal space and privacy, but if you ever needed to talk, he was more than happy to lend an ear.

"Easy there, lass," he laughed as you plopped down on the sofa next to him, playfully pushing his arm away to lay on his chest. He gratefully pulled you into a tight embrace, and although it was an awkward position, holding you felt natural.

"Thanks, Johnny," you smiled, sinking down further where you lay on his belly. He swore besides Ghost, you were the only other one who could get away with calling him 'Johnny'. "You're really comfy."

"Aye, I bet y'are comfy there," he chuckled. "Did somethin' happen? Can tell yer sad, lass."

"Nothing happened, I suppose. Just... sad. You know?"

"Yeah."

"What do you do when you're sad, Johnny?" you asked.

"Usually go make you laugh," he smirked. "Always works. Seeing you smile makes my day."

"How sweet, but now I'll think every time you joke with me that you're sad," you frowned, looking up at him.

"Ah, it never lasts long, don't worry, bonnie," his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you with a wide smile plastered across his face.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

A literal cuddle bug.

Was shy about holding you at first, but felt pure bliss when you two embraced.

Doesn't always know what to say, but he holds you so tight your brain shuts up.

When he does talk, his voice is very smooth.

You can hear his heartbeat fasten while you lay on his chest.

He was laying on the couch, minding his business, almost dozing off at the comfort of the sofa until he heard footsteps, specifically yours enter the room. His eyes widen as he sees your slumped shoulders, feeling your sadness radiate off of you. Concerned, he sits up. "Hey, you okay there?"

"Never better," you joked, tip-toeing a few inches closer to him. "I... have a question."

"I might have an answer, shoot."

"I was just wondering if you could hold me?" you asked nicely.

For a minute he sat there, looking you up and down as if 'are you sure?' and stammering as he found his words, shifting on the couch thinking of a comfy way to hold you. "W-would you like to lay on top of me?"

"As long as you hold me tight for a while, it doesn't matter."

It may have been awkward at first, but you two soon found comfort. You softly chuckled as you heard how fast his heart was pacing, poor guy was so nervous. Of course he liked you, but he didn't expect you to come to him to make you feel better.

He calmed down eventually, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "Starting to feel a little better?"

"Yeah, actually," you sigh. "Comfy... Might fall asleep."

He laughed as he agreed.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

As per my last little one-shot, he never hesitated to hold you or even listen to you, give you advice when you sought it. He was a great Lieutenant first, but an even better friend, partner.

God, did he hate to hear and see you cry.

You were too good, too amazing to feel sad, and he wished he could take it all away. He'd take it away and go through it himself if he could.

You were always afraid you made him mad, but it was quite the opposite. He was proud you came to him. It helped his sense of responsibility, and helped him more than he thought it would, or could. Quite therapeutic for the two of you, if I must say.

You two understood each other on a different level than the others.

You didn't come to dinner, and that's when he knew you needed him. First off, you needed to eat. But more importantly, you needed to be mentally okay to eat proper. He excused himself from dinner before coming to your door, softly knocking 3 times before coming in worried.

He sighed as he spotted you in fetal position, holding your knees to your chest.

"Darlin'," he sat down. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"I didn't want to bother you," you whispered.

"W-why would you have bothered me?" It almost offended him you'd think you were a bother to him. You were anything but that.

"Don't know, I'm sorry," you apologize.

"No don't be-" he sighed, laying behind you, shifting behind you. He pulled your back into his broad chest, looking over at your beautiful face that he wished was smiling and happy. "Hey."

"Hey," you chirped.

"Now I'm goin' to hold you here until I can make you laugh, am I clear?" he chuckled, his voice raised in concern. "Let me make it better, luv."

"You always do, Simon," you start to smile. "Always. Thank you."

Alejandro Vargas

Such a romantic mannnn 😍.

A natural flirt, trying to take your mind off of whatever was bothering you which you refused to ever tell a soul.

Quick to ask if anyone hurt you and if he needed to take care of it, anger seeping through quickly before he learned that you were just sad and needed to be held.

You come up to him, frown on your face and your eyes still wet from just crying.

"Mi amor, who hurt you, huh?!" he cupped your face, his voice raised as he felt adrenaline rush through his veins.

You shook your head. "No one. Can you just hold me? It'd be really nice right now."

"Si, of course, of course," he rasped, guiding you to his room with his hand on the small of your back. "Hermosa, you should not be feeling so sad."

"I-I can't help it, I wish I wasn't," you complained.

He laid you down in his bed where he lay next to you gently. Not leaving any space between your bodies, he pulled you to lay on his chest. "Are you okay? Do you need anything - water, a snack, a hot or cold cloth, huh? Nothing for the princesa, yeah? Alright, okay, now come here, just lie there and look pretty, okay?"

You snuggled into him, cherishing his scent as he calmed you. He breathed deeply as he realized you just... needed this. It's been a while since he's held anyone, so this was much needed for him, as well.

König

Our shy little baby 🥺.

Hated when you were sad, but he was far too anxious to push it or ask about it unless you came to him.

He'd find himself pacing, hoping you were truly okay.

He wanted to knock on your door, hold you so close and pluck all the sadness out of your brain.

While everyone else was on a mission, you stayed back along with König, and while you felt like you needed someone, you didn't want to bother him, but you figured why not? The worst he can do... is not be there for you, which, to be fair, wasn't his responsibility, but it would sure help.

You knock on his door shyly, quietly and would be surprised if he even heard you. He opened it shyly as well, his eyes looking far down until they finally met yours. "Oh, uh, hi!"

"Hey, König... Can I come in? It's okay if-" you hold your hands up as if you were trying to defend yourself, not sure if you're making him uncomfortable.

"Ja, come in," he opened the door fully. You look around his tidy room, and set your eyes upon his humongous bed. You stand awkwardly there as you two look at each other nervously.

"I'm just going to ask it, so, König, I have a question..." your eyes met the ground.

"Okay..."

"Would you be willing to hold me? I'm- I feel sad and I just-"

He shook his head eagerly as he made his way to his bed, patting it, inviting you to join. "Of course, Schatz, come, sit."

You waddle over to his bed, having to jump to get on it. He was nervous because of his size, most people were scared of him based on it alone, but here you were, asking him to hold you in your time of need, making him feel proud.

He scooted up, patting his chest excitingly waiting for you to lie on it. He seemed more excited to hold you than you were excited to be held by him. The quietness was peaceful, and it wasn't long before you found yourself falling asleep on him.

He hummed, chuckling as he felt himself drifting off into a slumber himself. For once in a very long time, his anxiety dissipated for a moment, as long as you were there laying on him. He wished he could do this more often, for you and himself. He wondered if this would have helped him during his anxiety attacks.

A/N - I hope this is something along the lines of what you were asking for! I apologize, I wrote this while I'm halfway falling asleep so if I lost it here and there I am sorry and can redo it if you want :) Thanks again for another request, please don't hesitate to send as much as you would like <3

[glorysbox]

your writing is so good??? how!!! i’m not sure how specific is too specific, but i would absolutely love to see your take on a nsfw one shot about reader who was recently broken up with and got super used to her ex bf being super selfish and stuff during sex and somehow that comes up with your friend Leon and he offers to show you how sweet sex can actually be with someone who actually cares about your enjoyment!!!

leon x afab!reader (female pronouns)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: explicitly 18+, college aged reader + leon, established friendship, pining from leon, leon is a lil jelly, oral (f-receiving), dialogue heavy

Your best friend, Leon, is a sweetheart. No matter what it is that you're going through, he's always there for you.

That extends to this very moment—where the both of you are sat on the couch of your one-person dorm, watching TV in attempt to drown the stinging feeling of your breakup. Or... trying to, at least. In reality, you've been venting to him about the sorry state of your now failed relationship. You have all of his attention, of course. You always do.

"I should've listened to you the first time," You mumble, head resting on the shoulder of your best friend, tone laced with sadness. Leon's warmth is comforting, a welcome reprieve to the icebox that is your dorm. "You were right. He was a jerk. A selfish jerk."

"Selfish?" He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. His chest is just as, if not more comfortable than his shoulder. You take the opportunity to shift closer to him, settling yourself in his arms... just like old times, really. He's lucky his hair covers the bright red of his ears at the feeling of you sitting on his lap. "L—like... how?"

"He was just... selfish," You mutter, sniffling for a few moments as you absentmindedly toy with the hem of his shirt. "It was always about him. He never bought me anything or made me feel special or..." He notes the way you trail off, icy blue eyes trained on the pretty features of your face as his heart squeezes at the sight of your frown. He really did try to tell you... he also wanted to tell you that you could do so much better with him.

"Or?"

"He never..." You pause for a moment, gnawing on your bottom lip in attempt to find a tactful way to tell Leon the truth. He's your best friend, though. You can tell him anything, right?

"Never...?"

"... you know. When we were... together, he never really... took care of me. Helped me," Your voice drops in volume. "finish."

"Oh."

There's silence for what feels like forever. With your head leaning on his chest, you can feel his heart rate picking up—matching the pace of your own heart. Leon is having an internal conflict right now. His mind feels fuzzy, his hands are clammy—and most importantly, he's as hard as a rock in his red-and-black checkered pajama pants. Go for it, He tells himself, The worst she could say is no. Be a man.

"S—so you've never..." He swallows, Adam's Apple visibly bobbing. "He never, uh... got you to cum?"

"I feel like you're making fun of me."

"No! No. I'm not, I swear. I was just asking. Well, I wanted to know because—well, I..." Leon swallows again, face turning red, as his eyes dart across your room. Posters, the TV, your bed, anything that's not your face. "I—I just... you know. I'm not selfish."

"...what is that supposed to mean?"

"I just... I know he was your first, and everything, but..." He wishes he was your first. "You know, sex isn't all selfish. I could, uh... show you, maybe—you don't have to say yes or anything. Just... letting you know that the option is there."

"O—oh..." The air of the dorm room is suddenly uncomfortably stuffy at Leon's offer—you find yourself no longer nervously playing with his shirt, instead playing with your own hands. He thinks it's cute. Not like he'd say that, though—in his mind, he's already fucked up too much.

"Just.... just forget it. Forget I said anything. Uh... sorry," Leon swallows again—a nervous tick of his—as he avoids your gaze after the nervous stuttered words fall from his lips. His mind is racing now—Was this a mistake? She doesn't even see me that way, does she? Did I just fuck up our friendship?

"No! No—it's okay. I'm not... mad or anything." You still avoid his gaze, face disturbingly hot at the prospect of your best friend since forever making you cum. "Um, actually..."

"Yeah?" It's hard to not notice the way he instantly perks up at your response—blue eyes widening and trained on you and facial expression akin to an excited puppy.

"... it... won't change anything between us, right? Because I—"

"No! No, it won't. I swear... it can be a one and done type thing. Just... I can help show you how it's supposed to be done...?" Leon doesn't even really sound sure of himself. He can't even really think, actually—his cock is throbbing so hard that his mind is all jumbled. All he can think about is how you'd look under those clothes. Deep down, though, he really does just want to make you happy. He loves you, after all. As a friend. "Yeah."

You'd be lying if you said your panties weren't soaked through right now.

"Okay... well... show me..." And Leon wastes no time reaching for you, shuffling so that you're situated under him on the couch. His hands tug at the thick material of the sweatshirt you're wearing—his sweatshirt. He makes quick work of it, pulling it over your head and tossing it on the arm of the couch. Big hands run up and down your body, taking a moment to savor the softness of your skin. Something he's wanted to do for a long, long time. He pauses, looking you in the eyes. You feel vulnerable under his gaze.

"Just... tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable in any way. We could stop." His hands, then, continue to feel along your body. Leon hesitates for a few moments—but you feel his hands ghosting along the skin of your breasts. He's gentle. He always is with you. "Can I?"

He waits patiently, focusing on the expressions of your face, hands pressed on your ribcage. He's handsome like this, you realize. Leon was always handsome to you—and everyone else—but to see his face flushed, pupils blown, and lip red and bitten for you is... something else. You nod, and Leon takes the opportunity to give your breasts a tight squeeze. Another thing he's wanted to do to you for a long time.

"You're beautiful," He comments, absentmindedly, hand traveling to the hem of your matching blue-and-black checkered pajama pants. He fiddles with the hem of it, half teasing and half awkward fumbling. It's not long before he's pulled them out from under you, tossing them across the room in a subdued fervor. "That guy is really missing out."

"You—" A gasp slips from your lips as you can feel Leon's finger gliding along the cloth of your panties—light in pressure as he drags it down from your clit to the hole. "D—don't have to... bring him up."

"I want to," He leans forward, lips pressing on your own with certain softness. His lips are cool as they meet yours, and they taste like ice cream. You're sure yours do too, considering the fact that you were both drowning in it just a few moments ago and watching a movie that's long been forgotten. "He's a good reminder that you should listen to me more often."

You mumble a shut up that gets lost in the sea of kisses he places on your lips.

"Did he touch you like this?" Leon questions in a low tone. His finger drags over the cloth of your panties again, his eyes trained on the dark-colored wet spot that stains them. You watch him, eyes half lidded, noting the way his tongue darts out across his bottom lip with each motion he makes up and down your clothed pussy.

You nod.

"Were you wet like this for him, too?" You swear there's an undercurrent of jealousy in his tone.

You shake your head.

"Good." His tone is slightly clipped as he hooks a finger under the crotch of your panties. Once more, he drags up and down your folds—collecting the sticky slick that's seeping out of you more each minute. A needy moan slips from your lips. One that he's desperate to hear more of. His free hand pulls on the hem of your panties, slipping them out from under you.

"C'mere." He mutters, gripping the underside of your ass to pull you further on your back. Leon drags you closer to him, hands resting on the skin of your hips as he lowers himself down.

It takes a few moments in your horny-induced brain fog to realize that he's about to eat you out—the only thing snapping your mind out of it is the feeling of his cool breath fanning on your folds. You grab his hair quickly, stopping him from dipping into uncharted territory.

He hates to admit that he might've whimpered a little at the feeling.

"H—hey... Leon, you don't have to... I—I mean, it's... embarrassing—can't you just finger me or something?" You question, voice meek and legs threatening to close at the sudden wave of nervousness washes over you. You trust Leon. With your life... but still. Being this exposed...

"Embarrassing?" He questions, hands gripped around your thighs to prevent them from closing any further. One eyebrow of his is raised. "It's not embarrassing. You're hot."

"That's—" You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I'm just... he never—"

"I thought you didn't want to bring him up anymore." It's hard to miss the hunger that burns in his gaze, evident in the way he looks at you. You think maybe, just this once, it won't be so bad to let Leon be right for once. Loosening your grip on his hair, you very slowly and hesitantly open your legs for him once more.

He settles, bringing his head further in the valley between your thighs. Leon even goes as far as to pepper kisses along the soft skin of your inner thigh—which only makes your hips uncontrollably squirm at the feeling of him teasing you. You don't even realize the way you're holding your breath.

"So pretty," He mutters again. Your face only just feels hotter at this—not even from the fact that his face is buried in between your thighs, but from the genuine way that he's complimenting you. You're aching, by now—your arousal leaving little trails where it drips down onto the couch. "I'm the only one that can do this to you."

You mean to question what he means by that, but the words escape you at the feeling of his tongue dragging along your slick folds. The words you want to say come out as a whiny moan—something you would've been far more embarrassed about if you were cognizant right now. You're not. Too focused on the feeling of his tongue languidly working over your folds; collecting the wetness that now dribbles down his chin. Your hand unconsciously reaches for his hair again, tangling in the dirty-blonde locks as an anchor.

Leon's tongue laps at you, prodding at your needy hole—lips wrapping around the bud of your clit and sucking lightly. His fingers are dug into the meat of your ass, keeping you in place—pulling you closer as he drowns himself in your pussy.

There's nothing that compares to this, truly. The feeling of Leon's tongue on yours, the sight of him in between your thighs, the eye contact you make with his eyes half lidded and pupils dangerously blown.

His tongue is merciless against you, breaching the tightness of your hole one time too many; your hips bucking against his face and moans freely falling from your lips at the sensation. Your best friend is really, really good at this. Of course he is. He's only imagined doing this to you about a thousand times.

"L—Leon, I can't—feels good, 'm gonna—" Each thought is cut off by another, your hips writhing under him with no escape. You're hovering on the edge of something, vision going spotty and body trembling and shuddering on it's own. The taut grip of your fingers tighten in his dirty brown strands—earning an especially hard suck from his lips to your clit. Leon's motions grow needier, tongue rubbing sloppy circles on your clit as your thighs clamp around his head. He's not even using his fingers and you're this close to cumming. It's too much.

It's not even been five minutes, and you're already tugging on Leon's hair as you cum on his face. Pulling him closer; pushing him away—you don't know what you want. You can't think—the feeling of your aching pussy throbbing too much as it clenches around nothingness and spasms on his tongue. You cum hard, and it washes over you in waves. You moan something that sounds similar to his name and an oh god please—unintelligible as his hands dig into the fat of your ass.

Leon laps at your folds through your orgasm, desperate to collect any of your slick arousal left. It's only a few moments after that you're really pushing him from the place between your legs.

"You're..." He's dazed. His face is covered in your wetness—his tongue darting out to collect what's left on his lips. "You taste amazing." He really wants to tell you that he'd live in between your thighs if you'd let him... but for now, Leon decides to take it slowly.

And you? You've forgotten all about your ex-boyfriend.

[rosemaryblossomworld]

The Second Queen (ch.1)

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

Summary: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙳𝚊e𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛, 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎

Warning:: 𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚜𝚝, 𝚁𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚛𝚊 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛(?)

A/n: English is not my first language, there may be grammar problems, so...read at your own risk.

Chapter 2

GIFs

Everyone knows that Daemon Targaryen is crazy about his niece! Everyone can see that!

But is he looking at her right now? Noooo, he's looking at another flower that just appeared within the walls of this castle. Young Y/n Hightower walked around the courtyard and didn't know where to put herself. Alicent was standing next to the king, and the girl was not well acquainted with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra had changed a lot, and she didn't want to get in her face.

Daemon watched the girl's tossing carefully, he wasn't listening to what his brother was telling him. He wanted to laugh heartily, watching the sweet and funny Y/n. She had always been like that. He remembered that. She hid behind her older sister, acting quiet and demure. But it seemed to Daemon that there was more to it than that. The girl was clearly hiding something inside herself.

"The weather is wonderful today," Daemon decided to walk over and speak to Y/n.

"Oh my prince!" she perked up "You're right, it is very warm today and I'm glad of it."

"Do you like warm weather?" The man walked past her, sitting down at the table and taking a goblet of wine in his hands.

"I love it! When the cold weather comes, I feel like I'm withering like flowers in a royal garden. I get so sad." the girl said and took the goblet of wine as well.

Daemon liked the way she spoke. Easy and casual. No playfulness, no fear, no vulgarity. Calm, outgoing, smiling. Daemon wondered how Otto could have such a beautiful daughter. The man wondered, if they married and had a daughter, was she just like her mum, or just like her dad?

Daemon grinned to himself again. He thinks like a fourteen-year-old boy who has fallen in love with the first girl .

The lords who saw the young Lady Hightower and Prince Daemon chatting involuntarily cast a glance at Princess Rhaenyra, who sat off to the side, bored. She occasionally cast her glance at her uncle, but her face expressed nothing.

"Look Daemon, it's the irises, they're so amazing," the girl ran around the garden dragging the prince behind her.

Daemon only smiled and followed the little lady.

"Does my lady like flowers? Which ones do you like best?" asked Daemon squatting down next to the girl.

"I like n/f," replied Y/n simply and quickly.

They moved over to a tree and sat under its crowns. Y/n told the prince about her day, occasionally distracted by the maids passing by. Damon only smiled.

"kepus!" came a voice from somewhere in the distance.

Princess Rhaenyra was approaching the pair. With a slightly annoyed mood. She hadn't reacted to her uncle's attitude towards the younger Lady Hightower, because she knew he would soon get bored of her. But it had been a week now, and her uncle had not visited her once.

"Princess," the Lady immediately stood up and bowed her head.

"Lady Hightower, shouldn't you be with the queen and serving her?" Rhaenyra immediately decided to point out the girl's place, for her place was next to traitors and liars.

Lady Y/n was dumbfounded at such a harsh behaviour of the princess, but what the girl definitely did not like was people who stick their noses where they are not asked. Clenching her fists, Y/n grinned:

"Princess, I'm not a servant. My sister has enough of them. My job is to enjoy my life and look for a potential suitor," the lady replied.

Rhaenyra blushed, coughed and looked at her uncle. There's that dreamy look again, but he's not looking at her, he's looking at the girl who first bared her teeth.

"Ao didn't visit nyke, uncle. Gōntan mirros massigon? ao promised nyke iā kipagon va se zaldrīzoti!" Rhaenyra pouted, feigning innocence (You didn't visit me uncle. Has something happened? You promised me a ride on the dragons!)

"Iksan mirrī busy bisa week. Ivestragī's gaomagon ziry another jēda, Rhaenyra," the man replied (I'm a bit busy this week. Let's do it another time Rhaenyra).

Rhaenyra was a little taken aback. She was about to hit the young Lady Hightower with her shoulder, but surprisingly the girl managed to dodge, causing Rhaenyra to trip over the hem of her dress. She didn't fall, but her ears lit up even more with shame.

"My lady, would you care to dine with me?" asked Daemon.

"My pleasure!" pronounced Y/n.

They began to walk slowly towards the castle, they were in no hurry, they had all the time in the world.

"You know Daemon, I dream of riding a dragon with you too," the girl said quietly, she turned to the measuring man and smiled at him, walking forwards.

Damon smiled even wider.

Y/n didn't realise how she'd ended up in that position.

She and Daemon had just decided to read a book about the Ancient Kings.

It all started when Daemon decided to play a prank and as soon as the book started to get interesting he just slammed it shut and lifted it up, and of course Y/n tried to get it. She jumped up so hard and pushed off Daemon's arm that he didn't keep his balance and fell off the chair. And Lady found herself in his lap.

"Gotcha!" exclaimed the girl joyfully, and made herself comfortable on his lap. "You've thrown me off my reading, now I won't be able to find the moment!" whimpered Y/n and turned away from Daemon, showing her back.

"Please forgive me, but you were so sweet, lady, I just couldn't help myself," Daemon frivolously hugged the girl from behind and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"I wonder if there's ever been one king who loved his wife so much that he was willing to die for her? Reading all these stories, no one narrates the relationship of the royal consorts. And if they do, it's cheating, strife and jealousy. It's not even pleasant to read," the girl turned the page.

"I wish I could use my brother as an example, but..." Daemon rested his chin on the lady's shoulder.

"Yes.... if you were king, who would you want to choose as your wife?" the girl asked.

"What is it, little flower? You want to be my wife," smirked the man.

"Maybe. But then I'd want to be the only woman in your life. And if I found out you kept going to Silk Street...but I'd treat you to manhood and turn the brothel into a bloodbath," the girl smiled and turned to the surprised man.

All Daemon could do was close and open his mouth.

"Oh, what am I...so what's up with Aegon the Conqueror?" the girl changed the subject and sat down on the soft sofa next to the man.

And so for a month Prince Daemon and Lady Y/n danced between each other. It was already clear to the whole council and the king that the prince was very warm to the girl. So rumours of the wedding had already spread far beyond the Royal Lands.

Y/n walked around in high spirits as everything she had planned began to come true.

"Sister!" came Alicent's voice from the empty corridor.

"My queen," the lady bowed respectfully, preparing to listen to a lecture from her older sister.

"The rumours are growing. You must not see Prince Daemon. Father is furious, I'm amazed that he's holding back from screaming at you," The queen equalled her sister and they walked further down the corridor.

"He yells all the time, I'm getting tired of listening to him. And what if it's Daemon, he's a prince!" the girl resented.

"But his reputation," fretted Alicent.

"I don't care. I hear King Viserys is getting worse. Who knows what might happen," Lady Y/n sniggered and walked on.

"What?" The queen stopped.

"Viserys has not yet appointed Rhaenyra as his successor. Father is doing a good job, if this continues, Daemon will be king as a sibling. The council may be outraged, but he will have a short conversation with them," Y/n continued to explain.

"You...want to be queen?... "Alicent looked at her sister with fear.

"Why not? I'll just combine my desire to be queen and my desire to have the right man by my side. It's not all about you being on top of things," Y/n continued walking, ignoring her sister.

Alicent now understood why her father didn't scold his youngest daughter, she was so much like him. Cunning and secretive. Alicent became even more worried, she no longer knew the girl who was walking down the corridor. It wasn't her sister.

"What do you mean?" turned sharply to her faithful maid Y/n.

"They were seen in the brothel. Rumours have already spread through the castle and the prince has been dragged before the king, my lady" Tala looked worriedly at her mistress, so gentle yet strong.

"Sir Conyn is finding out the circumstances?" asked the lady turning away from the girl.

"Yes, he went there as soon as we heard. They were in the brothel, but it's not known if they were asleep or not," Tala continued her explanation.

"He can't, can he? I'm...boring him so much..." Y/n settled into a chair next to the fireplace.

"My lady...rumours of his love for the princess have been floating around the castle for a long time. It was said that he was obsessed with blood purity and that he wanted to have a 'pure' child," Tala said.

Lady Hightower sat holding back tears, then stood up.

"I'll go and hear what's going on over there," Tala didn't follow her Mistress, only bowed her head.

Her heart pounded frantically, the closer she got to the throne room, the more clearly the voices of the enraged king and prince could be heard. There were no guards and the door was slightly ajar, you could see the king pinning the prince to the ground and shouting some questions.

"Wed her to me?" came Daemon's voice.

"Who?" gasped Viserys, hoping his brother would say the name of the younger Lady Hightower.

"Rhaenyra...Wed her to me," Daemon said.

Y/n stepped away from the door. Breathing hard, her heart began to pound even harder.

"I thought so," came the princess's voice from the shadows, and then she stepped into the light.

"How long have you been standing here?" Lady Hightower didn't dare look into the princess's eyes; she didn't want to see arrogance and self-righteousness.

"Since the beginning. Just as I thought, my uncle doesn't care about you ladies, he will choose me. As the heiress to the throne, as the one that will give him children of pure blood," her voice was quiet but cutting at the deep wounds of her heart.

"Princess...You cried out about never marrying and that you didn't want to bear a child because otherwise you would be treated like an animal. What has changed?" Y/n shifted her tearful eyes to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra was once again taken aback. She had said those words at every corner, that she didn't want to be a 'laying hen', she wanted freedom. She looked into Lady Y/n's cold eyes and realised that she had changed herself for the sake of defeating her 'rival'.

The doors of the throne room opened. Guards dragged Daemon out. The man glanced at the two girls and his gaze darted to Y/n, but she paid no attention to him. She turned and walked further down the corridor.

"Y/n!" shouted Daemon, but the girl didn't turn around. He shouted once more, but was faced with silence and emptiness.

Daemon felt like he had crossed the line. Crossed it in everything. He looked at his niece, who was looking at him hopefully, but he only grinned and let himself be led away by the guards.

When he left King's Landing, Rhaenyra saw him off from afar. But he did not see the queen of his dreams.

And two moons later, the young Y/n Hightower left King's Landing, returning to Old Town.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Can I request something with Daemon and Alicent sister.

She always thought she was second choice to Rhaenyra and tries not to show her sadness but her sons that they have together can see it and ask there father why is there mother second choice. And he finally relises that she feels like second choice.

Happy ending though.

Second Choice || D. Targaryen x Hightower!oc

GIF by @buffysummers DIVIDERS by @straywords

a/n: I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the request! I added my own little twists to this but it’s still along the lines of your request so I hope you don’t mind! Also this is oc btw, and enjoy!! also this is a long one! ALSO MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE IT <33 i live in aus so xmas is today!

warning: big age gap, oc starts of as 15 in the beginning and is 18 in the end, otto gaslighting and being manipulative

“You will marry the Prince” Otto had his back turned to his daughter. Leyla’s eyes widen at her father’s words, she looks to her older sister Alicent who wears a sad expression on her face.

“But father- he’s nearly three times my age! Why must I marry him” She pleads, she had no feelings for Daemon. And the terrible stories she had heard about him made her avoid him even more.

“Because you are my youngest child, I want you to live in royalty. The Prince has his eyes on the Princess but the King would never allow it-“ Leyla scoffed. “So you force me to marry him so that the King would thank you?! Do you love the power you have so much? So much that you would marry me off to that vile man!” She yelled, infuriated at her father.

“Do you have no respect child!” Both Leyla and Alicent flinch at the sound of everything on the table being pushed to the ground. “I am doing you good by marrying you to Daemon. You will have a high spot in court and you will, without a doubt live in luxury. Your children would be of royalty” Otto steps closer to Leyla, taking her face in his hands in a rough manner.

“You will give him children. You will marry him. Do you hear me” He yells the last bit as he shakes her, her jaw clenching as tears form in her eyes. Leyla pushes herself off of him as he leaves the room.

“I am so sorry sister” Alicent quietly says before giving her a sympathetic look and leaving the room. Leyla stood there for god knows how long, her mind clouded with thoughts.

She was only 15, how could her father marry her off to a man nearly three times her age and bear his children? Leyla knew there was nothing that could be done to get out of this so instead, she held a strong front.

~

She laid motionless on the bed. Her whole body was aching, particularly her womanhood. “You did well, sweet child” Daemon kissed her cheek before he laid beside her. “Did you enjoy the show my lords?” He called out in a humorous manner as they stayed silent, Alicent only coughing before they all left the room.

Embarrassed, Leyla turned on her side, her naked back facing Daemon. She felt so many things at that moment. She did not expect to lose her maidenhood so early and to a man that she did not love.

Daemon turns his head to only see the back of his wife’s head. He too did not love Leyla, his eyes were on someone else. He did not know her very well, only that she was the youngest offspring of that cunt, Otto.

But nonetheless, he refused to treat Leyla in an ill manner. Throughout their very short courtship, he had grown to be protective of her, he didn’t understand why, maybe because it was the fact that he was nearly three times older than the girl.

He nearly choked the old fool who offered his youngest daughter to him. He couldn’t help but scoff and roll his eyes when he heard the offer and her age. Daemon knew that they were doing this so that he couldn’t marry Rhaenyra. Pathetic really, he thought.

~

Leyla smiled at Daemon as he places his hand atop her swollen belly, caressing it slowly before taking her hand off of his to place a gentle kiss on it. “How is the pregnancy going Lady Leyla?” Viserys looks up from his plate sending her a smile.

She grins back as Daemon and her look at each other before she replies, “Very well your Grace, though she’s been quite active recently, kicking and moving around constantly” Leyla says as they all chuckle. “A true Targaryen she is” Daemon adds with a huge grin.

“She?” Rhaenyra asks as she looks at the two across from her. Leyla awkwardly lookd at her, a tight smile on her lips. It has always been quite awkward around Rhaenyra. Ever since Leyla and Daemon married, there had been an awkward atmosphere around.

“Yes Princess, Daemon is adamant that the babe is a girl” Leyla squeezes his hand as she nods with a smile before looking at Daemon, something only Leyla notices. She watches Daemon from the corner of her eye as he looks at Rhaenyra, a subtle smile on his lips before he looks back down to his plate.

“Princess,” Ser Criston calls out from the door, without uttering another word, Viserys gives Rhaenyra a smile and nods his head as she stands up. “Please excuse me” She says before leaving the room.

“I do hope that you are able to attend the wedding then, hopefully you won’t be in labour” Leyla’s sister looks up to her as she nods, “What wedding?” Daemon questioned, raising an eyebrow at his sister-in-law.

“Rhaenyra’s wedding to Prince Laenor, husband” Leyla placed her hand on top of his to which he shoves it off, “Rhaenyra is marrying and no one has told me?” Daemon says frustratedly, banging the table making everyone jump.

“Well I was going tell you-“ Leyla was interrupted once Daemon sat up from his seat making it fall to the ground. “Daemon-“ Leyla tried but she was turned down, “Don’t.” He glares at her as she looks at him in bewilderment.

Her eyes followed his figure leave the room, the door closing with a loud slam. Leyla sighed in defeat, massaging her forehead with her fingers. “Excuse me your Grace” She apologetically smiles and leaves the room to find her husband.

“Daemon?” Leyla slowly opened the door to their shared bedchambers. She stepped in seeing Daemon sat on a chair infront of the firepit. Her feet move to the chair, her hands placing themselves on his tense shoulders.

“Were you going to tell me or did I have to wait until the day she marries him” He mutters, “I was going to tell you okay? I-It just slipped out of my head” She sighed,!moving infront of him.

Leyla could see his feature’s immediately softening when he looks at her. He looks at her swollen belly before grinning up at her, Daemon takes her hands in his moving her closer to him as he gently leans his head on her belly.

She liked to think that he was over Rhaenyra—even the slightest bit over her—ever since they found out they were expecting a child. And during those months together, Leyla was undeniably falling for Daemon.

“Why do you worry about it so much, my love?” Leyla says in a hushed voice, careful to not anger him, Daemon only ignores her, placing kisses on her covered belly. Leyla sighs in defeat, running her hands through his hair.

~

3 years later….

“Mumma!” Alyssa, Leyla’s eldest child, ran up to her on the bed, followed by Baelon, the second oldest. She jumped onto the bed making Leyla giggle. “Careful Alyssa” Daemon warned as he lifts Baelon onto the bed.

He places a kiss on Leyla’s forehead before nestling himself beside her who was holding their third child in her arms. “Meet your baby brother” Leyla smiled at her children as they move closer to look at him.

“You are amazing, sweetling” He whispered against her hair, she tiredly smiles before leaning her head on his chest. A knock at the door makes the couple pause.

The handmaiden rushes to the door, the handmaiden curtsying before letting out a quiet “Princess”. Leyla slightly leaned up, wondering why Rhaenyra was here.

“Who is it?” Daemon calls out, his gaze on the child in Leyla’s arms. “Princess Rhaenyra, my Prince” She replied. Leyla felt his body slightly shift. She watched as he gazes at her intensely.

“Uncle, Lady Leyla” Rhaenyra smiled as she steps closer to the family. “Princess” Leyla politely bows her head as Daemon’s eyes still fixate themselves on her. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Leyla speaks up.

“I just arrived this morning for a visit when I heard you gave birth to your third child, I wanted to know how you were” She smiles as she looks to Daemon, then to her, then to the child in Leyla’s arms.

“That is very kind of you, Princess, isn’t it Husband?” Leyla turns her head to look at Daemon. He still had his eyes on Rhaenyra with a subtle smile. And that was when it hit her, the reality that Daemon still had feelings for Rhaenyra.

~

1 year later…

Ever since Rhaenyra moved back to the castle, the same tension that Leyla felt nearly 4 years ago was back, more than ever. She couldn’t help but notice the subtle looks they would exchange whenever they were in the same room.

Or how Daemon would never be paying attention to her or their children whenever Rhaenyra was close by. At one point, their youngest son who had just started to walk, Aegon, was one step away from falling down the stairs. That night, the two had a huge argument, the room was left in pieces.

Leyla watched with a sadden gaze as her husband dances with his niece. It was her sister’s name day. She had Aegon on her lap, bouncing him to usher his cries. Alyssa and Baelon to her left playing with their wet nurse.

Daemon was still so sweet and caring to Leyla but she could feel it deep inside. The feeling that she would always be second choice to Rhaenyra. She tried accepting it, she really did, she knew that he married her when he was inlove with another.

But in those 4 years, she liked to think he loved her. She gave him everything, her childhood, her maidenhood, children, her nonstop love and care, but sometimes she felt as if it was going all to waste.

Leyla couldn’t bare watching the two dance knowing that there was—or still is—something between the two. Leyla raised her hand to beckon the wet nurse. “Take Aegon to the children so that they may play together” She smiles to the women. “Of course, my lady”

She stood from her seat walking towards her sister. “I apologise sister, I feel as if I should retire to my bedchambers” She says to her, kissing her cheek as Alicent smiles. “Of course, rest up well” She holds her hand as Leyla nods walking to her three children.

“I am going to go rest my darlings, Alyssa, take care of your brothers for me” Leyla kisses their foreheads as she stands and leaves the bustling room. God was Leyla tired. Mentally and physically drained.

She had no rest. The last 4 years was nothing but Leyla going through another pregnancy. She was only 18 and she already has three children—4 maybe because she hadn’t bled in a month—but nonetheless she loved her children very much.

When she arrived at her bedchambers, she immediately laid herself on the bed. A loud sigh leaves her lips, before she could even close her eyes to get some much needed sleep, a knock erupts from the door.

Groaning, she takes heavy footsteps to the door. Opening it, she was surprised to see her father. “Father-“ “What are you doing here? You should be celebrating with your sister” He utters as he invites himself in.

“I’m not feeling well, I already told his Grace and Alicent” She mutters as Otto turns to her, “Are you expecting again? The handmaidens have told me you haven’t bled this month-“ “Why are you associating yourself with my handmaidens father? Are you that interested in my life” Leyla scoffs.

Otto slightly smiles, “Just making sure my daughter is being a dutiful wife and producing the Prince heirs, that is all” He shrugs. This made Leyla absolutely fume.

Grabbing the closest vase, she throws it on the ground, shards flying everywhere. “Is that what you think I am? A pawn?Someone who can just pop out babies for the Prince!” She yells, “I have wasted my childhood on the birthing bed! Because of you and your stupid arrangement for me to marry Daemon, he doesn’t even love me!”

“Why would you do that to me! I was only 15…” Leyla sobbed, her legs giving up on her as she released all her pent up emotions. What surprised her was the feeling of her father’s arms wrapped around her shaking body. “Silly girl, love doesn’t exist in arranged marriages”

“This was what you were made to do, my dear. Produce heirs, be married off to a noble man, in this case, married to a Prince and producing royalty. You are giving our family, our house, great honour” He says as Leyla listens.

“Get out” She quietly says, “I’m sorry?” Otto says confused, “I said, get out!” Leyla raises her voice as she shrugs his hands off of her. “Get out now!” She screams, her face red from all the crying.

Otto chuckles, “You should be thanking me, my child. I have built this for you, this extravagant life you have and for your children-“ “Get the fuck out of my chambers father” She loudly says, fed up with all his words that tried to give her some sort of comfort and reassurance that this what all she was made to do, produce heirs.

~

“Darlings, where’s mother?” Daemon had finished dancing with his niece and searched for his wife, but she was nowhere to be found. He sat down on the ground with his three children, something that made the nearby lady and lords gossip.

“Alyssa?” Daemon questions, taking baby Aegon from the arms of the wet nurse. “Mumma is not feeling well, she’s resting in her room” The little girl responds, her attention still on the toys.

Daemon looks towards their wet nurse who briefly nods in confirmation. He was worried for Leyla, she had been feeling more tired and was quiet in the past few weeks.

He knocks on the door, “Darling, it’s me” He waits for a few minutes before he could hear Leyla’s footsteps approaching. “Are you-“ He cut off mid sentence when he saw her face. Red eyes and wet cheeks.

Daemon furrows his eyebrows before stepping in and wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she sniffles. “What happened? Are you okay?” He says, concern in his voice as he cups his lover’s cheeks in his big hands.

Leyla says nothing, keeping her gaze on the floor before taking his hands off of her face. This made Daemon even more confused, she would usually cave in and tell him what bothered her. “Leyla?” He quietly calls out as she makes her way to the balcony.

Daemon follows her outside where they both lean against the railing in silence, overlooking King’s Landing. “What’s bothering you, my love?” He says softly, his face turned to her as he waits patiently for her response.

“Did you enjoy your dance with Rhaenyra?” She quietly says, catching Daemon off guard with the sudden topic of Rhaenyra. “Yes, I was going to ask to ask you for a dance but-“ Leyla laughs at this.

“I am so stupid,” She groans as Daemon looks at her confused, “I was right all along” A scoff emits from her lips as Daemon takes ahold of her forearm. “Right about what Leyla?”

“Right about the fact that I am and will always be the second choice to Rhaenyra!” She bursts out, “What?” Daemon furrows his eyebrow, confused.

“You still love her don’t you? I can see it! The way you treat me and your own children Daemon! I-I thought that finally after all those years of me giving you my everything, you would love me back” She ranted as Daemon quietly listens.

“Are you done?” He mutters, Leyla looks at him, “What?” “I said, are you done?” Daemon says a bit louder. “Who is married to me, mother to my children, Leyla?” He asks.

She was confused at the sudden questions, “Me?” “Exactly, and who do I love?” Leyla ponders for a minute, “Rhaenyra.” She deadpan says, a small giggle leaving her lips soon after, her anger leaving her slowly.

Daemon chuckles too, turning his body towards her, he pulls her hand before wrapping themselves around his torso. “You, silly. I love you and I love our beautiful children, not Rhaenyra.” He clarifies, looking down at her.

“But-“ “When I look at her, I laugh at myself thinking how much of an idiot I was trying to chase her when I realised the only person I love was right infront of me. Thank you for everything you have given me” He smiles, kissing her forehead as Leyla listens intently.

“Though I would like to choke your cunt of a father for giving you to me at such a young age” Daemon mutters under his breath as Leyla laughs.

“Your are my wife, mother to our children. You will always be my first choice, Leyla.” This brought comfort to her, her lover finally reassuring that she was not second choice, “You will always be the most important person to me” Daemon squeezes Leyla as he brings his face down to hers for a kiss.

Their lips touch and all of Leyla’s pent up emotions and worries left her. She hummed in the kiss, the feeling never boring her. The two pull away when they hear the door suddenly opening.

Alyssa and Baelon came running in searching them before spotting the two on the balcony. “Alyssa, Baelon, come back here!” The poor women ran in out of breath, Aegon in her arms. She finally looks to Leyla and Daemon before curtsying, “My apologies my Prince, my Lady, they insisted on coming to see you” She sheepishly says.

Leyla and Daemon look at each other before letting out giggles. “It is alright, go rest, We’d like to spend time with our children” Leyla smiles at the women as Alyssa and Baelon cling to her dress. She engulfs the two in a hug as Daemon walks to the women to take Aegon.

Aegon cooed once in his father’s arms as Daemon smiles at the boy, “Looks quite like me doesn’t he?” He cheekily says as Aegon gently touches Daemon’s face with his small hands. “You wish, I think he looks awfully quite like me, disregarding the blonde hair” Leyla replies as she starts playing with Alyssa and Baelon.

Soon enough, Daemon sits beside Leyla, Aegon on his feet as he stands in between Daemon’s legs, holding his thigh for support. Leyla watched the scene infront of her, the children happily playing and Daemon infatuated with Aegon who was babbling.

Daemon takes Leyla’s hand bringing it closer to his lips. Placing a soft kiss on it, he speaks, “I love you, so so much” He murmurs against her soft hand as Leyla smiles. She was happy and content with what she had. “Daemon?” Leyla starts, “Hmm?” Daemon hums, busy with peppering your hand with kisses. “I’m pregnant.”

[the-scythes-pen]

Dream within a Dream

Inspired by seeing/hearing Blade caring/being gentle with his allies hhhhhhh also walking around with him in the new area but otherwise no spoilers here

also hello why does my inspiration come back only for angst

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

Deep within the dreamscape, where few tread and the world falls silent, a man neither young nor old walks.

His shoes click along the stone; their path familiar yet not often walked. He remains impassive, neither joy nor sorrow on his handsome features.

He has long since become numb to lesser emotions.

The longer he walks, the further away from the world he becomes. The high-rise buildings fade away, the gaps between them growing and growing until they last forever.

Very few remain here.

Soundlessly now, the man travels on, navigating through invisible twists and turns and thriving communities of nothingness.

This deep in the dreamscape, in this general direction and in a place that time forgot, lies a small pocket of memory- neither this man's, nor it's inhabitant's.

It is a dream within a dream, built on a foundation of hope and love and roofed with regret and despair.

This place is not his home. But it is the only place he would dare to call home now.

An unused pocket in his tailcoat lies a key, to which a once steady hand reaches for. The man unlocks the door to this dream, and is greeted by it's suffocating stillness.

So, so different from where he came from; from the dreamscape outside of this pocket. Here, no wind blows, and dust settles upon unused furniture.

This house has no colour, yet the man's presence brings just the faintest of splatterings as he rouses the dust from it's sleep.

"Yingxing?" A sweet voice calls to him, and it steals the breath from his chest.

It always has.

And the man dressed in black brings his dull colours deeper into the house, towards the voice- and stops in the doorway to an old living room.

A face he hasn't seen in a long, long time greets him. This face is old, yet no wrinkles mar it's features. A smile pulls on this person's lips, and a crinkle forms in the corner of each eye.

The man, formerly known as Yingxing, walks silently over to the lone, colourless person.

"How long has it been?" They ask with that same kind, sweet smile. A smile that the man had always adored.

"….two centuries."

He speaks, his voice rough and quiet.

That smile he cherishes so dearly faulters. It's pained, now.

"I see. I missed you."

The man who no longer uses his name walks up to the familiar face- who stands up to greet him- and his strong arms wrap around the person.

"…Yingxing…"

In this embrace, the man can feel nothing. There is no one there- not really, but it's still somewhat unsettling to feel nothing when there is something.

"…you're cold. Would you like some tea?"

The voice is so, so sweet; so kind and gentle, just how he remembers it. He doesn't want to pull away but he does.

"Yes, please."

And the man follows them out to the old kitchen, floorboards creeking beneath his feet- but not theirs.

"I'm guessing you still haven't found a way to…?"

An obvious question that needed not be finished. The man still brought colour to this lifeless memory- and thus, he was still alive.

"…no. Not yet. But hopefully…" He trails off, his thoughts drifting to his promise.

"…it's ok. I told you I'd wait as long as necessary, didn't I?"

The man sits at the homely kitchen table, dust ignored as if it were nothing more then air.

"…forgive me." He still replies as his intense gaze follows the homeowner.

The person clicks their tongue, a sad smile on their lips as they join him at the table with a teapot and teacups. There is no familiar clink of porcelain when the teacups are placed, and when the tea is poured, nothing comes out.

He does not comment on it. Nor will he ever.

"I'm just happy to see you again." The person across from him says.

His crimson gaze flickers from the tealess cup to his other. His throat closes up, and he nearly chokes on his breath.

"I love you." He manages to blurt out.

That sad smile only grows sadder. He hates when you look sad.

"…and I will always love you as well."

Their hands meet on the edge of the table, a thumb that isn't there brushes over his bandaged hand.

"…how much longer can you stay?" He asks quietly, pain clawing at his chest.

"…I don't know." The person replies simply.

The man looks down at the teacup once more. Within the cup are dreams, memories, laughter, hope, and love.

He brings the porcelain to his lips and takes a sip. There is nothing there.

His mouth is filled with the bitter taste of ash and the harshness of dust.

But he doesn't care. He never has, and he never will.

To preserve this phantom dream, he would endure the harshest of pain.

"…Blade."

He lifts his head to find his other half standing before him now.

This meeting was so, so brief.

They always are, now.

He remembers how soft your hand always felt when it cupped his cheek. He tries so desperately to recall that memory when your hand meets his skin, yet he still feels nothing.

The dream before him looks into his eyes, searching wordlessly for everything he is unable to say to them. All the emotions, the memories, the pain…

"Let me- let me do it. Please." He begs so uncharacteristically.

The smile slips from your face, and he's not sure what he hates more: seeing you with a sad smile, or without one at all.

"…I'll hold out. I told you I'd wait as long as it took, and I will."

"You can't promise that anymore."

The man they now call Blade has only ever wished for death this strongly once before. He wishes he could die with ever fiber of his being.

That sadness returns to your face, but you don't smile.

He determines he hates that expression the most.

"Blade-"

Before you can say any more, his lips crash messily into yours. And it is here- and only here- that he finally, finally can feel such a beloved memory.

The warmth of your lips. The pressure of your mouth against his. The taste of your love.

Your love tastes like dust.

His colours, dull as they were, grow stronger only when kissing you; and his colours seep into your memory, bringing life back to your black-and-white dream.

He feels the sting of old wounds resurfacing, the hiss and growl of this sin of eternity digging it's fangs into his soul. But Aeons, he'd do anything to keep you around just a little bit longer.

The kiss breaks, and the colour he imparted to you dissipates swiftly after.

The pain in his chest is almost unbearable. He wants to claw out his heart and all the abundance flowing within him.

You've returned to nothing but a dream; a colourless memory devoid of life. So why, pray tell, why are your tears so vibrant?

"…I miss you. So much." Your voice is broken and pained. Blade places his hand on top of yours, still cradling his cheek. He nuzzles his face into your touch, his own eyes closing as he tries so, so desperately to feel something from your gesture.

He would even take the disgusting warmth of your blood over this nothingness of a dream.

"…I'm sorry. I promise… I promise I'll find a way to return to you. Just… wait for me."

When he opens his eyes, he is surrounded by nothingness. Once again forced into solitude, with nothing but the ghost of your sensationless touch on his skin.

The bubble of memoria flickers before him, as if attempting to comfort him. But there is no comforting a man who's sin has stolen him from his love.

Colourless tears cascade silently down his pale face. Excruciating pain feels like it's tearing his body to shreds.

The memoria flickers and floats. It has no emotion, yet feels so sorrowful and empty.

A bandaged hand, once strong and steady as a blacksmith, now trembling ever-so-slightly from the pain of a broken shell of a man, reaches out to hold this forgotten dream. To cherish it, and beg for it to stay.

But just like you, the bubble flickers in and out of existence, before falling limp in his hand; cascading to the floor in an oozing mess of memoria.

"I'm sorry…"

He murmurs to the dream, and prays that the strength he gave it will allow it to revive itself when next he returns. Perhaps this time he may need to wait a couple thousand years before it will be stable enough to enter again.

After a moment or two of mourning, the man clenches his fist; blood oozing into the bandages as pain shoots through his arm. Wounds old and new, internal and external, all bleed for his loss, cursed to be eternally painful for imparting his life to sustain this dull dream.

In a few minutes, Blade will leave this dreamscape and return to the world of reality. A reality where you are long since gone, and Blade is nothing more than a nickname for a man who has lost everything. A reality where he feels very little except pain and regret.

But right now, in this moment, even if it's nothing more then an oozing mess of memory- you are with him. And right now, that is all that matters.

"I love you."

His broken voice echoes quietly into the nothingness.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

A/N: I finished this sweet little one shot I found in my drafts. ❤️

Wayne Munson stared at his nephew's hospital bed. He never really felt his age, not around his nephew. Eddie always somehow managed to bring out the rambunctious side that once belonged to his youth. He was quick to his snapbacks and wasn't afraid to wrestle with him a time or too. Sitting in this chair, however, Wayne felt every bit his age and then some. It was times like these with Eddie that made him feel old, and it was worse now.

"You better not leave me alone, boy," Wayne whispered gruffly.

"Wayne?"

He looked over his shoulder, and his heart leaped at the sight of the woman he once loved walking through the door of the hospital room. Shit, maybe he still loved her. Her smile, though tentative, was still sweeter than pumpkin pie. Wayne loved pumpkin pie. Claudia was still as beautiful as the day he met her. He wondered if she was still a Henderson or if she finally divorced that no good husband of hers. When he met her, she was still Claudia Jackson, the sweetest girl in all of Hawkins. She wasn't afraid of giving away her heart more than once to anyone who she felt deserved it, and she wasn't afraid of befriending anyone, even if it might cause her grief. Although there were risks in that, she wasn't afraid of taking those either.

"Hey, punkin," Wayne said, giving her a crooked grin.

"Wayne," Claudia said, and he was pleased to see that he could still make her blush so prettily.

"When did you get back to Hawkins?" He asked.

"Quite a few years ago," Claudia said, looking at her feet in shame. "I would have contacted you, but to be honest, I was afraid."

"I was never upset with you for choosing him, Claudia. He was sick, what were you supposed to do? You loved him too," Wayne said. "Just disappointed in the situation, is all."

"I know," she said softly.

"How is Walt?" Wayne asked.

"Gone. Left before we moved back to Hawkins," Claudia said.

"We?" Wayne asked.

"I have a son. Dustin. Your boy took him under his wing this year," Claudia said. "I'm very grateful to him."

"He's a good boy," Wayne sniffled. "School's always been hard for him. It's going to be even harder for him now that they think he's a murder. They cleared him, but you know how it is. The public's opinion has always been the hardest to clear."

Claudia moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I never believed it for a second," Claudia replied.

"What if he doesn't wake up?" Wayne sobbed, and he collapsed in Claudia's arms.

And it was like the past twenty years hadn't happened. She was here and holding him tightly. It was like time hadn't passed at all. He spent most of his energy crying in her arms, and he's not sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he was reclining back in the hospital chair with a blanket draped over him. Claudia walked back in a few moments later. He thought he had dreamed her up there for a second. She was wearing nurses' scrubs. Shit, maybe he was still dreaming.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, old man," she said teasingly. "I work here as a nurse."

"How did you -?"

"Twenty years is a long time, but I like to think that I still know you," Claudia said softly.

"You were always good at taking care of other people," he replied.

"So were you, always taking care of that brother of yours and Elizabeth," Claudia and started pushing Eddie's hair back. "I hear a lot of people say that he looks a lot like his daddy, but I see a lot of Elizabeth in him too. I always thought so since he was a baby. I always liked Elizabeth. I was sad to hear that she passed. I would have come then, but Dusty was a sick baby, and I'm not sure what stopped me after."

"You're here now," Wayne said softly. "Please, don't leave again, punkin. I know it's been twenty years, but I never stopped loving you. Choose me this time. I ain't asking for much, just whatever you can give me. I know I can't give you a whole lot. . ."

"Nothing can keep me away from you, Wayne Munson," Claudia said. "Not ever again."

"Not even cats?" Wayne asked.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," she teased.

Wayne chuckled and took her hand, pressing a hard but loving kiss to it.

"You know anything about the Harrington boy that's been patrolling the halls?" He asked.

"Oh, that's Steve. He's as good as my son, too, as well as Sue and Charles Sinclair's son. His parents, well, they're about as reliable as Al," Claudia said. "He's a good boy, and he's been a good older brother to Dusty. To all the kids."

"There's something in his eyes, though," Wayne said, his eyes wandering over to Eddie. "I'm not sure if I should say."

"Sometimes, things don't need to be said for someone to understand," Claudia said, her eyes twinkling delightfully. "I hope it all works out for them."

"Me too," Wayne said softly.

It was during that moment when Claudia and Wayne were staring fondly into each other's eyes that Eddie awoke.

"Either you're a really good nurse, or you really are going to be my new auntie," Eddie croaked.

Wayne had never been happier to give him a slap on the head than he was in that moment. His boy was awake, his loud mouth a strong indicator of more good things to come.