#alright time to log off for a week

[duskspring]

Chapter 1

Summary: When the opportunity arises for Terzo to avenge himself after years of waiting, of course he takes it. Amy is the absolute perfect person to accomplish this with, but he might have a harder time staying on track than expected.

Content (18+): Terzo being a scheming petty bitch, handjob, slightly sub!Terzo

Word count: ~4k words

[Series masterlist / Read it on AO3]

There were many things Terzo felt The Clergy never gave him credit for. Yes, he could get a bit overindulgent, if there even was such a thing, he slacked off on his duties from time to time and he was absolutely guilty of not blindly following all of their wishes and orders. But he fully believed he had just as many, if not more, strong characteristics. He was very observant when it came to certain things. He, for example, always kept a close eye on Cardinal Copia’s interactions with Siblings of Sin. He’d been doing that for years.

Something The Clergy definitely did ascribe to him, however, was his pettiness. It was the feeling that rushed to the forefront of his mind when he first noticed the shift in the cardinal’s behavior. Though it was subtle, his mood seemed improved. He strutted the halls more calm and collected than Terzo had seen him in years, as opposed to always being stressed out over some paperwork or whatever else he filled his days with. And wouldn’t you know it, the change correlated perfectly with him getting a new assistant. But it wasn’t just that he was glad to have his workload relieved with the help. No, Papa had witnessed it himself; the little smiles, laughs and redder shade on his cheeks when he spoke to said assistant. Copia was into her, just as Terzo had hoped for. 

Not wanting to waste this chance, he did his research and formulated a plan. The assistant’s name was Amelia, though she went by Amy. She’d been part of the church for many years, having performed most of her studies abroad, only to recently move into the abbey. Terzo had initially considered simply moving her to a position as his own assistant, but decided it would be much easier to torture Copia if he was forced to still be around her all the time. From there, he knew exactly what he would have to do if he truly wanted it all to work out. The set up was simple; visit Copia’s office more and more often during work hours, always making sure to establish eye contact with the lady and ultimately taking whatever chance he got to chat her up and make her feel seen by him. Though on occasion he got to do so outside of the office as well.

One particular afternoon, he saw her walking towards him in the hall carrying a particularly high stack of three cardboard boxes, presumably filled with old documents and files. He didn’t even realize it was her at first, until she tried looking around the pile to see where she was headed.

As she approached, seemingly unaware of his presence, he made no effort to move out of her way, freely allowing her to bump into him. Though she tried to keep her balance, the top two boxes toppled over and onto the floor, manilla folders spreading all over the black and white patterned floor as the woman stumbled down after them.

“Ah, fuck-“ She groaned, trying to recover from the impact of the packet still in her hands knocking into her stomach when she’d hit the ground. Terzo definitely hadn’t intended for her to get hurt, but she spoke again before his mind could settle on feeling guilty, “Papa! Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” She straightened her posture, looking up into his eyes.

“Didn’t feel a thing. But the burden of guilt falls on me. I should have been more present.” He said as kindly as he possibly could before crouching to help her pick everything up again.

Her eyes followed his every move, already caught off guard by his willingness to help her, now anticipating any more surprises. She snapped back to reality a second later, “I appreciate your help, but it’s really not necessary. I know you probably have better shit to do.” She said, starting to collect the rest of the documents herself.

“Nonsense. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t help a lady in need?”

She scoffed, though not actually upset, “I’m hardly a damsel in distress.” She said as she carelessly shoved handfuls of paper back into the boxes for her to sort out later.

Terzo appreciated how bold she seemed to be around him, not bothering to filter herself more than she, presumably, did usually. Most people wouldn’t dare considering his status, but although she tried being more polite, there were certain comments or words she couldn’t stop from escaping her mind.

“What the fuck do you even need these for?” He mused, reading a random paragraph of information about a man who’s name barely rang a bell, both wanting to ignite conversation and to quell his curiosity.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential.” She smirked at him, knowing damn well what his response would be.

His brow furrowed in genuine offence, “There is no such thing as confidentiality for me. I’m Papa!”

“Oh, you are? Sorry, the suit and the paint didn’t give it away.” Only now did her grin and tone become obvious to Terzo. She had been as sarcastic as the last few times they briefly exchanged words, he just wasn’t used to it yet.

“You think you’re so funny.” He grumbled, though a smile now graced his face as well. He threw more and more documents into the box next to him, acting as if it was his way to get his frustrations out.

“Maybe just a little.” Amy chuckled at his antics, continuing the clean up as well.

When they were done on the ground he stood back up and offered her a hand, which she took and thanked him for, “I assume these are for Cardinal Copia?” He pointed to the boxes as he walked over to them

“They are. But I can handle-“ She tried stopping him when she noticed him moving to pick them up, but he cut her off before she really could.

“Enough of that,” His voice sounded slightly strained as he put his energy into lifting two of the three boxes up from the floor. They weren’t too heavy, luckily, but still weighted more than he had counted on, “Let me play the gentleman. Just this once.” He winked and smiled at her, trying his hardest to up the flirtation.

She instantly gave up starting an argument, since it would only keep her away from work even longer. She only acknowledged his effort with a silent nod and the two went on their way.

“Pardon me for not asking sooner. How has settling in gone?” He asked, referencing an earlier brief chat they’d had, both to make conversation and out of genuine interest.

“It’s been really great!” She smiled at him brightly, “I have friends now, so that helps. It’s already much better than that stuffy old shack in Germany.”

Terzo laughed in recognition, “Satanas, I remember visiting there once as a teenager. I remember thinking I’d rather go to hell than stay in that devil forsaken dump ever again. I take it that it hasn't improved much.”

“Nein,” A grin slowly spread on Amy’s face, “But when you were a teenager, huh? When was that? The 30s?”

Even though he took her poking fun at him in good faith, he couldn’t help the surprised falter in his steps, “You’ve ought to get a spanking for speaking out of line. Remember who you’re taking that tone with, suora.” It was his turn to smirk, his eyes slightly narrowing with the lustful threat, even if he hadn’t fully meant it.

“You’re right,” Amy’s steps slowed down, turning her body to face him a little more, “My sincerest apologies, your dark excellency. Forgive my foolish disrespect and graciously spare me a second chance. Oh please, Papa, I so beg,” Her tone was sarcastic through and through. She stared directly into his eyes, an overly exaggerated pleading look on her face. Terzo could only chuckle at the woman’s antics, “Am I forgiven?” She asked after he didn’t say anything. She still had a playful smile on her face as she readjusted the box in her hold.

“How could you not be after such a display?” He finally answered as he brought his arms as close to his body as possible. It was the closest he could get to putting a hand on his heart while his hands were occupied.

“Enough of this already. I’m running late.” Amy's smile didn’t falter as she started walking a little quicker, as if she herself hadn’t decided to slow for the sake of a joke.

Terzo made sure to stay by her side, “In all seriousness, I’m very glad to hear that you are settling in well. Remember that if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here for you. I’m sure it gets quite drab being around the cardinal so long each day.” He just couldn’t resist the quick jab. Copia wasn’t a bad person, but Terzo found it much too easy to ridicule him sometimes.

“Don’t talk about him like that, he’s lovely,” She defended her boss, though she stayed in good spirits, “And thank you, Papa.” She added genuinely.

“Call me Terzo.” He said, right as they reached their destination. Just as Amy was about to knock to announce their presence, he simply opened the door with his elbow and walked in without warning.

“Papa.” Copia sounded shocked to see him, and seemed somehow even more shocked when his assistant walked in right after him. Terzo revelled in seeing him mentally search for answers and jump to conclusions.

“You should go easier on the lady, cardinal. She could’ve fallen down a flight of stairs with these.” He unceremoniously plopped the boxes down on top of Copia’s writings on his desk.

“Did something happen?” Copia looked at his assistant around the new blockade, concern clear in his eyes and tone.

“I bumped into Terzo.” She admitted slightly sheepishly as she set the final parcel down next to his desk and made her way back to her own.

“Terz-“ Copia softly repeated, looking at Amy like she had lost her mind, “I think you mean to say Papa.” He corrected her with shock.

The woman’s steps came to a halt. She shot a look over at the man in question, confused as she wondered if she was supposed to still use his title in front of others.

Terzo merely chuckled to break the silence, “That’s quite alright.” The statement made one of Copia’s eyebrows raise slightly, "Either way you’re lucky it was me you bumped into and not my old man,” He added to change the topic, before stepping up to her. He put a hand on her waist like it was the most casual thing in the world for them and brought his mouth close to her ear, “If it all gets too much, do not be afraid to complain to me.” With a final quick flash of a smile her way he stepped back, leaving the office without further acknowledging Copia’s existence.

Later that week, the benches before the pulpit were filled to their maximum capacity as Terzo stood in front, delivering his weekly sermon.

He always did his best to make it a show. Having grown up with his father and Primo droning on and on, explaining interesting topics in the most mind numbing and repetitive ways possible, he wanted to do it a little differently. He did his best to get everyone engaged. He would crack jokes, make music and directly involve his flock’s experiences.

On that particular day, his eyes were drawn to Amy time and time again. She looked up at him with her full focus, eyes glued to his being as she laughed and smiled along. He made and maintained eye contact where he could, wanting her to know that his attention was on her as well. She was seated close to Copia, who would also undoubtedly notice how often his head turned and stayed in her direction.

After the sermon ended he was quickly forced into an overly long one-sided conversation with Sister Imperator that may have almost killed him out of boredom. He wanted to make his next move already, unable to keep focus on any of her words because of it. When he took a quick glance out into the room, he saw that most people had left already, going back to their usual duties. Luckily for him, however, Amy was still there. Still there and giggling at whatever the cardinal had just said.

“Are you even listening to me?” Imperator snapped her fingers in front of Terzo’s face to draw his attention back to her and it took all his willpower to not shove her away in his frustration.

“I will handle it.” He sneered, honestly having no clue what she had been talking about, “Let me do my job.” He walked off, willing himself to remain composed in a room with still relatively many people, especially Amy, there, “Cardinal,” He slapped the man on the back of the shoulder just a little too harshly under the guise of a greeting, “Don’t you have work to do? Already done with all those “confidential” files?” He air-quoted the word with his hands, just trying to get Copia to leave.

“Not entirely, no. I was just- I’ll go. Amy, if you-“

“Actually, I must borrow your assistant for a moment.”

Copia tensed up just the slightest bit. Terzo wouldn’t have noticed, had he not been on the lookout for reactions exactly like that one, “For what, exactly?”

“I have some more things for you in my office, may as well have her deliver them to you.”

“Even more paperwork?” She questioned, half playful and half baffled that there could possibly be even more paperwork to be done.

“This one’s sharp, isn’t she?” Terzo joked, “Now back to work with you.”

“Of course. Sister, I will see you again soon. Right?” The question was more so aimed at Terzo than her. Copia definitely knew something was off and Papa revelled in the knowledge of what it was.

“At this pace your assistant will need an assistant. You could let her take it slow for a little bit, cardinal.” He finally stated, before putting his hand between Amy’s shoulder blades and leading her out, “This was only your fourth sermon since you joined us, am I correct?”

“It was, yeah. You really shined up there.” She complimented.

“Is that genuine admiration I hear or are you being sarcastic again?” He asked lightheartedly.

”Hey, I can be nice! I meant it.”

“If you think I did well here, you should see me at an actual show. I’ll reserve a good seat for you next time. I’ll blow your fucking mind.”

She slightly cocked her head, eyes narrowing, though not far enough for him to notice as he greeted some siblings who were walking past them. Amy wasn’t blind. She was fully aware of how he had been flirting with her. It took less than a day at the abbey to hear all the stories of his escapades with siblings, “What flattery, Terzo. You’re too kind.” She said semi-sarcastically.

“Not at all,” He began saying as he opened his door, letting her walk in ahead of him, “There’s just something about you.” He mused, letting the door fall shut behind them both.

She had reached the middle of the room when the comment made her turn back to face him, her look skeptical, “How so?”

He sighed. Perhaps it was his own impatience or need to indulge but it felt like the time was right. It was now or never, “I have a confession to make,” He lowered his voice, “Forgive me, suora, I have lied to you. I have nothing for the cardinal here.”

“And yet you’ve asked me to be here.“ Amy stated plainly as he stepped closer to her.

“I longed to be alone with you again, if only for a moment.” Perhaps the idea of him being so into her after their few brief interactions would sound completely unbelievable. Luckily for him, he was Papa. She would likely be too starstruck at the idea of him wanting her to even question it. That’s how it usually went, after all.

“Is that so?” She nearly laughed, though he read it as nervousness.

Terzo breathed out a laugh himself as he put his hand on her cheek, doing whatever he could to get her swept up in the moment, “You’re so special, tesoro. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you,” He leaned in even closer to her, his mouth now right next to her ear, “I want you.”

“You don’t know me.” Oh, fuck. She was questioning it.

Terzo hesitantly moved back a bit, mind racing at how to salvage the interaction, “Oh… Oh, I see,” He took another few steps away from her, until he leaned against the back of his desk. He kept a close eye on her facial expressions, “There is something between you and the cardinal, isn’t there?”

“Not at all.” Amy sputtered out, genuinely shocked. Yes, she had noticed all the same small signs Terzo had, if not more, but she didn’t want to outright assume Copia’s feelings went deeper than a superficial level. Were there really people who thought there was something between them?

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s clear I crossed a line. You are with the cardinal, I respect that.”

“No, you don’t.”

Terzo was unsure how to respond to that. She was absolutely right, in this case at least, but he didn’t want to make himself sound bad by admitting to it.

That same small smirk as before crept its way back onto Amy's lips. She certainly hadn’t expected any of this when she’d gotten out of bed that morning. Her feelings on him were definitely mixed, he seemed genuinely kind at times while also being way too cocky for his own good. Perhaps there was something she could do about that, “Did you mean it?” She slowly closed the gap between them as she spoke, until she stood in between his legs. She moved her eyes up to meet his, her hands coming up onto his chest, “Do you really want me?” Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, yet her tone was self assured.

Terzo let out a surprised breath. He studied her face for a moment, unsure what he was even looking for, “I meant every word.” It was technically not a complete lie. Regardless of his motivations, he couldn’t deny his own sexual attraction to the woman.

“Good. I love games, Terzo,” She emphasised his name, reminding herself of the fact that he allowed her to say it. That she could act as boldly as she was. She slowly moved one hand up his chest until it rested carefully at the base of his throat, “But I prefer playing by my own rules.”

He was admittedly caught off guard by her taking on such a dominating attitude. Perhaps that’s what attracted Copia to her in the first place. But two could play that game, “You’re not the only one with ‘rules’, tesoro,” He straightened his back, gently removing her hand from his throat, “And you’re forgetting which one of us holds the actual power.”

“Out there maybe. But in here…” Amy chucked. It was different from her usual laugh, but Satanas, what a sexy sound, “In here you are the person who both lied to get me to come with you and then practically begged for my attention. I’m just fulfilling your request. You wanted attention…” Suddenly her free hand was on his crotch, stroking him agonisingly slowly through the fabric of his pants. Terzo’s breath hitched, “Here you have it.”

Papa’s mind raced trying to think of a response. It wasn’t that he had never taken on a submissive role before, but he’d only done so with people who intimately knew him. He didn’t want to be this vulnerable with someone he mostly courted out of pettiness. And yet he could think of no rebuttal. Worse yet, it was impossible for him to stifle the groan that slipped past his lips as she continued the rhythmic movement of her hand against him.

“Do you like the attention, Papa?”

He desperately didn’t want to give in. He didn’t want to let her win the game. But, fuck the way she squeezed his cock made him ache for more. He wordlessly nodded, hoping it would be enough. Instead, her hand stopped moving and let go of him, though it still carefully rested over the area. Terzo whimpered slightly at the loss, closing his eyes and instinctively bucking his hips forward in search of friction.

“Uh-uh, Terzo,” His eyes snapped open again at the mention of his name, “Be a good boy and use your words.”

Something about the prospect of being praised short circuited his mind. He’d undoubtably question his decisions later, but for now his pride be damned, “Yes. Yes, I like your attention.” He said through gritted teeth. 

Her face wore a serene smile, satisfied with how easily he was going along with her. She surprised herself with her actions, impulsively deciding all of her moves and simply hoping it would keep working. She moved her hands up to open his pants, stopping as soon as he let out a whine.

She was about to ask if he was still okay with what was happening, when he beat her to it, “Please.” His voice was pitchy, his hips moving forward again in an attempt to grind into her hands.

With that permission, Amy opened and fished the dick out of his pants in the blink of an eye. While his eyes were screwed shut, hers had their full focus on where her hand stroked him. She’d never really thought of dicks as ‘pretty’ before, but his was undeniably a sight to behold. It appeared long enough to get deep but not so much that it was intimidating. Her hand couldn’t fully wrap around him and her mind soon flooded with ideas of what he would feel like inside of her. Her movements became more enthusiastic than before, determined to break him as much as she was starting to.

Terzo’s breath came out with a sigh, “Si, suora.” His knuckles were turning white underneath his gloves with how tightly he clutched the side of his desk. Sweat started to bead on his temples, smudging his face paint there. Deep black locks of hair fell in front of his face as he tilted his head down to look at her. He looked like a mess. Just how she liked it.

They stood there, so close, staring into each other's eyes, “There’s one thing I need you to do, okay?” She tried her hardest to stay composed, “Can you do that for me?” Her hand squeezed him a little tighter, strokes getting faster.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll do it.” Terzo’s breathing was still incredibly shaky, especially with the added effort he put into humping her hand.

“Good. All you have to do… is be patient. I have a job to do and so do you.” Without another word she removed her grip from him again and made her way to the door in what felt like half a second. Just before she opened it, she looked back at the very taken aback leader of the church, “Until next time.”

The soft thump of the door falling closed snapped Terzo out of his shock. Lucifer’s wrath, he was furious. He wanted to run after her, yell at her, drag her back inside and teach her a lesson. But he couldn’t get himself to move. He had allowed himself to be outplayed so easily, he felt like a complete idiot. And yet, he was excited at the same time. Things may not have gone as expected, but perhaps this meant messing with the cardinal would be even more fun than he had first anticipated.

[Next chapter / General masterlist]

[not-communist-usa]

stop acting as if an authoritarian regime hasn't been toppled before.

[iamlostandinneedofcoffee]

I like to imagine that every once in a while Red Hood just goes off comms for long stretches of time and comes back bruised as shit and exhausted before logging off for the night and the rest of bat brigade is trying to figure out which villain of the week keeps jumping him.

Eventually they, cause communication is a skill no one learned, just start harassing hood’s men to find out whose turf they are invading only to find out they thought the bats were beefing with Red again cause he keeps mumbling about brats.

Now they are trying to find out which one of them is lying about fucking with Jason and no one is owning up, the trackers they keep putting on him are fizzling out, no one as any idea and Jason ain’t saying shit. But like he’s never properly irritated about it or asks for help nor can they find anything out so they let it go for now (read keep trying to track him to no avail).

And then one night Red Robin comes across Red getting chased and then fighting off a feral looking teenager on the roofs of Crime Alley and just when he looks like he is getting the upper hand another drops down from above (how the fuck the nearest taller building is not anywhere near close enough to dive into the fight from what the fuck?!?) and joins the brawl.

Tim is about to rush in to help Jason before the two teens’ heads turn in unison to him with Lazarus green eyes and look like cats when they see a red dot. Jason panics and before he can grab them, they leap and now Tim is in a cartoon brawl dust cloud and all and Jason has joined in and is calling them all brats and how his gunna whop their ass- and there is a foot in his mouth.

And yet through it all Tim never feels afraid. In fact, as he fights he realises they are keeping up and beating him all whilst smiling and punning(?!? They must never meet dick SHIT DUCK) and that won’t fucking do, so he brings out all his tools and tricks and is getting matching by two raccoon twins. 20 minutes later they are all grinning bloody smiles and just as he is about to slam his bo staff up into into the female looking twin, a whistle is blown.

They all freeze and look over in unison as if they all became shining quadruplets at a giant shit house built fucking man. And like Tim has seen big men. Bane is a big mother fucker. Superman is a big mother fucker, and is also shaped like one. Bats is big but this guy even though his is maybe not as large he feels infinitely more terrifying and that’s before you get to the flaming(fucking literally, how does that even work or stay in the pony tail) white hair.

“Alright enough for tonight or foods gunna go cold. Inside.” A voice bellows across the roof before the man disappears??!? At the mention of food the one top of Tim almost starts drooling, gets up and starts dragging Tim’s still prone body across the roof and off of it OH FUCK AND INTO A WALL WHA and they went through it… well

A couple second later Jason and the other dude stumble in. Jason picks Tim up as he is coming down from that mini adrenaline rush at and puts a arm around Tim, half hug half chokehold, saying “say nothing and you get to join once a week. Say shit and you’re haunted.” And walks off to the kitchen and starts bringing out food.

… safe to say the rest of the bats are now confused why Tim of all people is now turning up bruised as well with Jason, cause if it was him to start why has he started loosing all of a sudden??? And he says fuck all but his weapons and fighting style has got more chaotic and terrifying.

Oh and he seems to be eating… well you win some and lose some

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

[fallenbratfiction]

Bambi ~ Part two

series masterpost here pedro pascal masterlist

a/n: you've been waiting for this for a long time, thank you for your patience!!! and also all the love you've been giving this fic! i hope you enjoy this chapter, there's more darkness to come 👀😈

mentions: post-outbreak / apocalyptic setting, dubcon/coercion themes, blood mention, obsession/possessiveness, power imbalance, reader is above 18, naive reader (soft/innocent/inexperienced), fingering, joel watches, non-explicit violence & threats, gun use, manipulation & emotional control, possessiveness, praise kink, possible other kinks, punishments,, “daddy” kink, shared reader (Joel x Reader x Tommy), pet names (Bambi, sweet girl, good girl, our girl), domestic elements turned dark, mental confusion & emotional overwhelm, morally gray to fully unhinged dark Miller brothers

Reader discretion strongly advised. Dark themes throughout. Minors DNI ❌ This is a work of fiction and does not reflect healthy or ideal relationships!!! 

Do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own. 

⟡━━━ ✦ 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗳𝗶𝗰 ahead ✦ ━━━⟡

Tommy acts like it’s not a big deal around you, but it upsets him. Joel pretends nothing is wrong, as if he didn't break the agreement they had about you. Not even a week had gone by since they found you. 

Tommy tried to get near you, talk to you, or spend time alone with you, but Joel had been sticking close to you, lending you his clothes, marking you, showing you things, giving pleasure that Tommy wanted to give you as well. He can’t undo what Joel did, he can’t go back and undo that moment, but he wished he could show you he could do the same and even more. He’s not demanding, but he’s aching to be chosen as well, wanted. 

Joel is always there, he’s cooking you food, carving you figures, murmuring things when he thinks Tommy isn’t around, or maybe does it on purpose. 

Tommy sees all of it and it hurts him more than he’d like to admit, of course, he’s too good to voice any of his trouble. He tries to tell himself he isn’t mad, this isn’t your fault, god you’re too naive, too sweet to know what his intentions are, what Joel’s intentions are. You just let yourself be guided, shown affection and fall into the bear trap that easy. He tries to reassure himself, you’re here now and it’s not like you’re going anywhere. There’s still time for you to get closer to him, to want him. But every second that passes, every day that goes by, he’s afraid you won’t want him at all, only Joel. 

One afternoon, he’s outside working by the shed. He’s chopping logs both for the fire and to get the steam off him, let all his anger out. His shirt sticking to his body, his forehead trinkles sweat and his hands are full of dirt and rough. 

It’s quiet in the shed, allowing him a peace of mind. 

He hears your footsteps, the leaves rustle and crunch under your boots, his. The only thing that belongs to him. They’re somewhat big on you but you don’t mind, they keep you warm at all times. But when he looks up, your shirt belongs to Joel, your shorts probably do as well. Everything is too big on you, he reminded himself to find you more suitable clothes the next time he was outside the perimeter. 

He looks up from the log and notices your eyes full of curiosity. the way you observe his hands, the logs, the shed and the things inside it.

You don’t say anything, just look around. 

When your eyes meet his, he notices you want to ask something. 

He shifts the axe in his grip, your notice quickly notice his action. 

“Want to help, Bambi?”

Your eyes flick to the wood, then back to him.

“I don’t know how.”

He shrugs. Smiles. “That’s alright. I’ll teach you.”

He says it softly, without pressure. But inside, his chest is tight.

You nod, walking toward him. He steps back, lets you closer. The sun catches on your hair, and his fingers ache to reach for you.

“Here,” he murmurs, picking up a smaller piece of wood, “just hold this steady while I—yeah, just like that.”

Your fingers brush as he adjusts your hands. You look up. He’s already looking down.

And for a second— It’s just the two of you.

No Joel. No jealousy. Just you this moment. 

You hold the log steady with both hands, kneeling in the grass like you’re focused, but Tommy can see your mouth parted just slightly, your brows knit with effort.

And you’re close now. Too close.

He swallows hard and kneels beside you, guiding your hands just a little, just enough to feel the shape of them. Calloused fingers wrapping around yours.

“You’re good at followin’ directions,” he says, voice low beside your ear.

You glance at him, lips parted like you’re not sure if that was praise or something else entirely.

He smiles—crooked, warm.

“Means I can teach you whatever I want,” he adds, quieter now.

Your breath catches.

He leans forward, hands on either side of the wood, arms boxing you in—but not touching. Just close enough. His warmth seeps into your skin.

His eyes flick to your mouth.

You don’t move.

“Can I…?” he asks softly, leaning just slightly forward.

You don’t say anything. You just look at him. And that’s enough.

He kisses you. Careful, restrained. Just his lips against yours—no pressure, no demand. Waiting.

You freeze at first, unsure. But his mouth is so soft, so warm, so different than Joel’s—and then your head tilts, and you mirror him.

Mouth parting. Breathing him in. Your hand rising to rest lightly against his chest.

His grip on your waist tightens just barely.

And the kiss deepens.

You feel it—the hunger under the surface. The need. The way he holds it back just for you.

When you finally pull away, your eyes are wide, lips swollen.

He’s already looking at you like you hung the goddamn stars.

You're both quiet after working in the shed. The sun’s lower now, golden through the trees. Tommy wipes his hands on a rag and looks over at you, who’s still looking around the space, the tools. 

“Thanks for helpin’,” he murmurs, voice rough and warm.

You nod. “It was nice.”

He offers his hand to take you and you give him a soft nod before taking it. He shuts the shed door and walks back into the cabin.

Joel is waiting sitting at the table, the rifle behind him leaning on the back of the chair. He had just gotten back from patrolling and found the cabin empty. 

He sees the shift in your face. The softness. The glow. And he knows he kissed you. 

The tension is clear, cutting through the cabin like a knife. Tommy turns to you, his hand in the small of your back, thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt.“Why don’t you go shower Bambi, yeah? You’ve been touching a lot of dirt and tools.”  

“Uhm, okay Tommy” you nod and offer him a small smile before disappearing down the hallway. Now it’s just the two of them in the living room. 

“You kissed her.”

Tommy sets his jaw. “Yeah.”

Joel steps forward. “We said we’d both take care of her. You’re takin’ her for yourself.”

“I am? You’ve been glued to her since the first night.”

Joel’s voice rises. “I found her, Tommy. You didn’t even trust her.”

Tommy snaps, “Because she was a stranger, Joel. We’re not livin’ in some sweet fuckin’ world where trust comes easy. I was protecting us.”

A beat.

Tommy breathes through his nose. Softer now.

“Not anymore, though. We know her now. What she’s like. And we both said it—we liked her. Wanted her around.”

Joel looks away for a second. Then back at him.

“So what? We split time? Take turns?”

Tommy glares. “You really think she’s a toy?”

You step into the main room wrapped in a big towel, hair damp and skin flushed from the steam. You pause at the sound of voices—raised, then quickly hushed.

Joel’s standing near the kitchen. Tommy’s by the couch. Both their faces are too stiff, too calm.

You blink. “What’s goin’ on?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, but he forces a smile. “Nothin’, Bambi. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

Tommy adds, more lightly, “Just patrol stuff, sweetheart. Nothin’ for you to worry about.”

You hesitate. The air feels strange—thick and heavy.

“Is everything okay?”

Joel nods. “Yeah, baby. Just tired.”

Tommy’s already sitting, stretching one arm across the back of the couch. Then he pats his thigh with a small smile.

“Come sit with me?”

You pause. Then walk toward him slowly.

He helps you settle into his lap, guiding your bare thighs over his jeans. You shift awkwardly, towel slipping a little, and he hums, adjusting you just right, wrapping an arm around your waist, firm but gentle.

“There,” he says, voice low. “S’nicer like this, huh?”

Tommy’s hand rubs slow circles on your thigh as you settle deeper into his lap. You’re still warm and soft from the shower, towel bunched high on your legs, hair dripping down your back.

He leans in, lips brushing your temple.

“Had a good shower?” he asks, low and sweet.

You nod, relaxing into his chest.

“Yeah. Water felt nice.”

Tommy hums, pleased. “Good. Gotta keep you taken care of, Bambi.”

Joel doesn’t say a word.

He’s sitting stiffly on the armchair across from you, elbow on his knee, hand flexing once, then again. His gaze is locked on where Tommy’s hand rests against your bare thigh, thumb stroking the inside absentmindedly.

He doesn’t blink.

You glance up, innocent and soft-spoken:

“Joel… you okay?”

His jaw clenches before he answers.

“Fine.”

But it’s anything but fine.

Tommy knows it. That’s why he grins a little into your hair, hiding it from Joel but not really.

“You sure?” you ask again, tilting your head like a confused baby deer. “You look kinda… tense.”

Joel finally breaks his stare, looks you right in the eye.

“Just thinkin’,” he mutters. “That’s all.”

But you’re not sure why it suddenly feels like the air’s gotten thick again.

Tommy just plants a slow kiss behind your ear like nothing’s wrong at all.

You lift your head slightly and glance across the room.

Joel’s stare is razor sharp.

Your brows furrow gently. “Joel…?”

“I said I’m fine,” he snaps—too fast.

You flinch.

Tommy goes still beneath you.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Tommy lifts his head slowly, eyes locked on his brother.

“You got somethin’ to say?” His voice is still calm. But there’s steel beneath it now. “’Cause you keep lookin’ like you do.”

You try to get up, slow and cautious, like maybe if you move, the tension will go with you.

But before you can shift fully off his lap, Tommy’s arm tightens around your waist. His palm flattens against your stomach, pulling you gently back down.

You pause.

“S’okay, Bambi,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. “Just stay.”

You try again, a small tug on his forearm, but it doesn’t move.

“Tommy—” you whisper.

“Ain’t mad,” he says softly. “Ain’t gonna yell like him. Just don’t want you runnin’ off when you’re already where you’re s’posed to be.”

Joel’s eyes flick to Tommy’s hand, then to your face.

Your breath is shallow now.

You stay seated. Not because you’re scared, but because something in his tone tells you there’s no danger here.

Just heat. Just claiming. Just… him.

Tommy’s voice hums near your neck.

“Let him be jealous a little. I’ve been patient.”

Your eyes flick to Joel—and fuck, the way he’s staring at you now, tight-jawed and hungry, makes your pulse jump.

“She ain’t a prize,” Joel mutters, but even he sounds unsure now.

Tommy just smirks.

“Nah,” he says. “She’s better. She’s ours.”

Then his thumb drags slowly over your inner thigh.

Joel swallows hard.

You do too.

Tommy’s thumb is tracing little circles into your thigh, warm and slow and possessive. His grip never loosens around your waist. You’re tucked into his lap, towel barely holding on, chest rising just a little faster now.

Joel hasn’t moved—but you feel him across the room.

His eyes are on you.

The silence tightens, thick with heat.

You shift and roll your hips in Tommy’s lap, something you can’t control, it just feels good, your body is calling for you to do that again. Tommy goes still beneath you, his breath stops, his hand freezes before it reaches your cunt. 

Your eyes meet Joel’s, soft and sweet and wide as always. 

Joel fucking moves.

He stands without a word, crosses the room, eyes never leaving yours. He sinks onto the couch beside Tommy—close enough to touch you, close enough to smell the heat still rising off your skin—but he waits. He watches. 

You shiver when Tommy’s thumb brushes your clit, rubbing circles cause you to move on his lap uneasy, the stimulation being too much for you to tolerate. 

Tommy dips his head, mouth brushing behind your ear, his voice low and warm. 

“Too much baby?” he asks softly, and you nod whining. He slows down the movements, and you seem to ease into his lap “‘s okay, baby, 'm gonna go slow and gentle with you.” 

Your towel threatens to come off once again, Joel’s fingers move the fabric that covers your lower body, trying to see what your pussy looks like, despite having seen it himself before. 

Joel shifts slightly, breath hitching at the view.

Tommy doesn’t say anything—he just starts to untie it completely, slow and careful, like unwrapping something precious. He watches your face, waits for the smallest sign to stop.

It doesn’t come.

The towel loosens.

Joel’s breath drags in. Audible.

Tommy eases the fabric open, just enough to let it fall, exposing your chest to the cool air, your thighs to his hands, your whole body to both of their stares.

You don’t move. You don’t even open your eyes.

And that stillness?

It wrecks them.

When Tommy inserts his fingers inside you, you gasp 

Your nails dig into Tommy’s arm as his thrusts get rougher, deeper. You’re whining on his lap, mumbling his name. 

“Doing so good for me Bambi, ‘s okay” 

“You’re such a good girl for us baby, Tommy’s just having a taste of you” Joel adds quietly, his gaze focused on you. 

You turn your head to look at Joel, breathing heavily as Tommy’s fingers work inside you and when you feel the warmth build inside you as you near your orgasm, you throw your head back against Tommy’s shoulder and shut your eyes, trying to relax just like you had done with Joel. 

Your whimpers and moans and the squeaky wet sound of Tommy’s fingers are the only sounds heard in the cabin. Joel watches intensely, not moving at all, letting you two have your moment. He swallows, shoving off any kind of jealousy or fear. If keeping you means learning to share you, he will do it, he will find a way to learn how to do so. 

You come undone in Tommy’s grip, wet skin exposed, the towel is on the floor by now. You stay like that and neither of them move you. Tommy brings his fingers to his mouth and you don’t see it but hear his groan at the taste. “God you taste so sweet, Bambi” 

You sigh. The softest, most broken little sound.

And Joel’s control snaps.

He reaches out finally. Slowly, hand hovering at first, trembling.

Then he touches you.

Just a palm against your bare hip. Warm, calloused. Gentle.

You don’t flinch. You don’t open your eyes. You just let him.

Joel’s fingers stroke up your side, slow and uncertain—until his thumb brushes the curve of your breast, and your lips part in a soft, shaky inhale.

“Bambi,” he breathes. “Tell me to stop if you want me to. Just say it.”

Still, you say nothing.

You just lean slightly into the warmth of his hand.

And Joel—fucking wrecked—lets out the softest groan.

Tommy chuckles low behind you, voice dark and knowing.

“Told you she wanted both of us.”

Joel’s hands cradle your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, then circling—slow and focused. When his fingers pinch the sensitive skin, you hiss, breath hitching, a whimper slipping free.

Tommy watches now.

Quiet. Patient. Letting Joel explore, letting him have that moment while your body arches under his hands.

They lay you down in Tommy’s bed for the night. You’re spent—worn out from the day, from the heat, from the way his fingers worked you open until you were too dazed to speak. He tucks the covers around your naked body and presses a kiss to your temple.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

You hum, already halfway gone.

Sleep takes you before the door even shuts.

Outside, Joel and Tommy stand on the porch. Silent. The cool night air prickling their skin, still humming from what just happened.

Their bond was close. But never this close. Not “fuck a girl in front of you” close. Not “share her body and her trust” close.

This was new. A bond neither of them could name.

It wasn’t incest. They weren’t touching each other. But you were in the middle—soft, sweet, theirs—and they both knew you wanted both of them just as much.

Maybe more.

How long could they keep this going? Could something like this even last?

Only one way to find out.

They come back inside without a word. Each brother disappears into his own room.

Joel lies down alone. The bed feels colder now, quieter like it knows you’re not there. He stares at the ceiling, jaw clenched, fist curled tight at his side. A part of him aches to sneak across the hall, open Tommy’s door, and take you back. But that would break the arrangement once again. And they hadn’t even set the rules yet.

Still, he imagines your sounds—your face, your body—and jerks off in silence. He falls asleep with your name on his tongue.

In the other room, Tommy pulls off his boots in the dark. You’re already curled beneath the covers, soft breaths steady in sleep. He slips in behind you, as gently as he can. His arm slides around your waist, tugging you close. You stir, barely. Your body presses back into his like it’s instinct, and his lips curl into a satisfied smile. He buries his face in your hair and exhales.

This whole thing?

It would need rules. You’d need rules. They both would.

Because sharing something so good, so warm, so sweet, would never come easily.

⟡━━━ ✦ chapter ends here ✦ ━━━⟡

✧ reblogs, likes & comments are deeply appreciated ♡  

✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work  

tag list: @heavens-whore @ilovetoomanymen @chick66i @grayandthyme @codenamekitten @millersdoll @med494 @pedrosgirl03 @starfruitlily @fan-fiction-floozy @darknight3904 @anitraivx @sweaters-and-socks @umadirectioner @wow-life-love4 @moonstone2323 @valyrianflower @keseqna @xodilfluvr @soymiguelsesposa @inbred-eater @aphroditesblunt @namelesslosers @avengeritism @007maiz @twilightblogss @joelsprettyprincess @saltyllamakidwombat @jinririz @neobangverse @paladin--strait @livviii @doblasftcisco @alecriminn @staley83 @neobangverse @gay4magnetobutfanfiction @samsamsantos @a-woman-unkind @m-3-ssy-1-nk @hellokittyyloverrrr

(just ask in the comments and you'll be added loves)

[sushirrrry]

SEVEN MINUTES || a harry styles x you one-shot. word count: 3,353 content warning: teen angst & fluff

summary: you and harry are camp counselors; you've never been kissed, but you landed on him for a quick game of seven minutes in heaven. he takes the lead.

It was the last week of camp.

The senior counselors had the night off, making sure to make their own memories that felt like their early childhoods had. Most of the kids were asleep in their cabins, save for the few youngest ones still fighting dreams with flashlights tucked under their blankets.

The sun had gone down hours ago, but the woods still buzzed with life—cicadas humming, the occasional hoot of an owl, someone’s distant laughter rolling from the mess hall.

And there you were, sitting on a quilted patch of grass behind the arts & crafts shed, cross-legged and nervous, a circle of citronella candles flickering around you and campfire burning ash up into the sky. Half the counselors were already tipsy on warm beer and vodka passed around in water bottles. The other half were drunk on freedom—just a few more days until real life crept back in; many of them would go to college, or trade schools.

It was sinking in that this was your last summer here.

“Alright, campers,” Jamie grinned, a crooked flashlight held beneath his chin for dramatic effect, “time for a classic.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

A chorus of groans and whistles erupted from the small group—about ten of you, total. Your stomach flipped at his words, knowing what it meant but also knowing that you just couldn’t get out of it.

“Oh my God, Jamie,” whined Marnie, dramatic as always, flopping back against a log. “What are we, twelve?”

Jamie twirled the empty water bottle in the middle of the circle. “Don’t act like you don’t wanna get shoved in the craft closet with Mason.”

Marnie gave a soft gasp, and kicked grass at him, but she was smiling. Mason was handsome, sure—but he wasn't even close to your type.

You tried not to shrink into yourself; this wasn't the activity you were looking for. You weren’t exactly known for being wild; you were the quiet counselor, the responsible one—always up early, always with a first-aid kit.

You were the kind who let the kids paint their nails with Crayola markers and sat in the shade reading To Kill a Mockingbird while the others cannonballed into the lake.

Then, there was Harry, the tall, broody, charismatic charmer who one simply could not resist staring at once you saw him.

He sat opposite you, one leg bent, his tattooed forearm resting lazily over his knee. He wore an old, cut-up band tee this night and those faded camp shorts that somehow always managed to sit just right on his hips and thighs.

His curls were pushed back with a blue paisley bandana, and his eyes were fixed on the bottle with amused interest, dimples barely there in the soft glow of the candlelight and fire that sat in front of him.

You knew Harry—but not just from camp, from town. He’d been in your English class junior year. He used to sit behind you and borrow your pencil just to annoy you, even though you knew he kept at least three in his backpack. He was charming in the way only someone effortlessly cool could be, never trying too hard, just… there.

He was also the boy you’d had a crush on since freshman year. But you were too quiet, too average, and Harry always felt like he lived just outside your orbit.

Until now, you guessed. Harry was right in your orbit, a little too much.

The bottle spun. Around and around, it went, all eyes watching it blur across the circle. It landed on Cara first, then Jamie, to many exaggerated “oohs”. Everyone watched as they disappeared into the tiny closet at the back of the shed while the rest of the group snickered and threw pinecones at the door, teasing and mocking them.

You watched them go and tried not to think about what it would be like to be chosen, because being chosen would mean you would have to face the fact that you had… never been kissed. Not even a small one—not even a silly, playful one as a kid. Your cheeks were already warm, and not just from the summer air or the heat of the fire in front of you.

The game went on. A few more pairs disappeared inside and came back out flushed and giggling—you hoped that they would just give up on it after a while, maybe pivot to a different game once everyone got bored.

You laughed along with everyone else, but your heart was thudding in your chest, palms clammy against your thighs.

But of course, your nightmare had become reality as you then watched the bottle land on you.

A sudden hush came over everyone until you heard Marnie next to you.

“Oooh!” Marnie squealed, grabbing your shoulder. “We’ve got a good girl up to bat now!”

You laughed weakly, trying not to shrink under the sudden attention.

“Alright,” Jamie said with a grin, staring back at you. He handed you the bottle and raised his brows at you. “Spin to meet your destiny, good girl.”

You leaned forward on trembling fingers and gave the bottle a twist. It spun fast, making the grass shiver beneath it. Around and around and around until—

For a split second, no one moved. Then the entire circle erupted.

“Oh, come on,” Jamie howled, turning towards Harry. “You landed on Styles?!”

“Harry, don’t break her!” Mason teased, holding onto his shoulder.

Another person yelled: “She’s too sweet for you!”

You could hear another: “Be gentle!”

Marnie’s eyes widened as she bumped your shoulder, whispering over at you, “Oh my god, you lucky duck!”

Harry just smirked without saying a word or making a big deal of it, and pushed himself up to his feet. He offered you a hand without hesitation, and something about the quiet ease in his eyes made your skin buzz with an electricity of a thousand voltages.

“Ready?” he asked, just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, trying to not make it too obvious that you were more than nervous. Your throat was dry, so you didn’t want to speak. All you could think about was it was going to happen… he was going to kiss you.

He led you toward the shed, ignoring the loud whistles and claps that followed you both from the annoying crowd that saw around the fire, half-drunk on excitement and half on beer.

The door creaked open, revealing a cramped space lined with shelves full of dried-out paints and yarn balls and string lights that hadn’t worked since ‘78.

He clicked the door shut behind you and the sound was final as the muffled voices faded beyond the wooden doors. You were in a pocket of silence, just the two of you. It was dark except for a sliver of moonlight leaking through a dusty window. You could barely make out his silhouette, but you knew he was taller than you and you knew that he was standing in front of you.

“I don’t think we’re gonna last seven minutes in here without inhaling glue fumes and sunscreen,” he said, voice light, trying to break the tension.

You laughed, a little too high-pitched which made you cringe. Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt. Then came the quiet; Harry cleared his throat as he turned his head towards the door. His hands pushed into his pockets as you sniffled.

The sounds of the party outside were filling the small shed, but you knew that everyone was talking about you.

“Have you ever played this before?” he asked, tilting his head toward you. His voice was soft and sincere when he spoke, almost like he knew that he could feel your energy. He was being kind.

That was the thing about Harry—he was the cutest and the sweetest. All the other boys there at the camp, they had such a roughness about them, but Harry didn’t. Harry was kind and playful and talked to anyone who needed it. He wasn’t judgmental or looking to make fun of anyone. So, his question didn’t throw you off too much, and you decided to be honest with yourself, and him.

You shook your head, then. “Never.”

“Me neither.” Harry admitted, shrugging. His eyes diverted down as he took in a shaky breath.

That surprised you, so you looked up at him and tucked your hair behind your ear. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiled faintly, scoffing a bit. “Usually, I’d skip this stuff—I don’t really like the whole ‘forcing people to kiss’ kind of thing.”

“Me either,” You hesitated, crossing your arms over your chest. “You could’ve skipped tonight.”

“Didn’t want to.” There was a faint hesitation before he shrugged. “Why didn’t you?”

The pause was palpable. His eyes searched your face as you went to speak and nothing came out. So, you just bit on your lip and diverted your eyes so he wouldn’t see.

You didn't have a chance to answer when he spoke again.

“You’re nervous.”

You tried to laugh again, but it broke in your throat. “A little, yeah.”

When he stepped closer, you backed up instinctively until your shoulders brushed the shelf behind you. The whole closet smelled like crayons and pinewood and dust. The floor creaked when he took a step, but he instantly knew what he was up against.

Harry’s voice was lower now as he gave you a small look and then, even in the dark, you saw the quirk of his smirk creeping up his lips. “You’ve never kissed anyone before, have you?”

Your breath caught at his question, shaking your head, just a little. “No.”

His eyes didn’t mock, they didn’t widen in surprise, they just softened. They just settled on you, and you could tell that he was trying to make you as comfortable as you could be in a situation like this. He pulled his lips in his mouth, giving you a warm glance before he spoke again.

“Okay,” he said gently. “Well, do you want to?”

You blinked, almost shocked that he would ask you like that—you looked at him with wonder as he smirked; you wondered if his cheeks had reddened at the thought of being a bit forward.

“I-I mean, if you do, I want to do it right,” he added, like it mattered to him. “Only if you want to. I mean—you know, a first kiss is something you remember forever, so.”

You didn’t realize how badly you’d wanted to hear that until now.

You nodded, and your voice came out as a whisper: “Yeah,” you nodded again, a bit more comfortable in the situation as you prepared to ready yourself. “Yeah, I-I want to.”

He just gave you a soft smile, then leaned into you with a soft deliberant motion, giving you time to stop him if you wanted. His fingers came to rest lightly on your jaw as he tilted your neck to meet his tall length, the pad of his thumb brushing your cheek. He smelled like cedar and beer.

His lips touched yours like a question, almost wondering if you were going to pull away. Everything about it was careful and wonderous and after all of the movies and books you read, you didn’t know kissing could feel like that.

You kissed him back with a bit of tension at first, then with more confidence as his hands settled at your waist, anchoring you down to the ground. You moved with him, moved with his lips; it was just like learning to dance. His lips were warm and tasted like beer and spearmint, and he moved with such reverence it made something tight in your chest unfurl.

He pulled away just an inch, eyes on you for a moment as you fluttered yours open. “Okay?”

You nodded, dazed, almost feeling like you could have levitated. “Yeah.”

He smiled again—this time more openly. “Can I keep going?”

You didn’t have to say anything, you just nodded with a smile that had crept up on your face. Harry took it as a sign to move in again. Your hands moved into his curls that were pushed back by the blue bandana and you wondered if he liked it like that.

And so, he did. Just a bit faster now, deeper. His nose nudged yours, and you tilted your head the way he guided you to, learning as you went. His mouth moved with a lazy kind of precision, like he was in no rush, like you were the only thing worth kissing in the entire world.

His lips parted slightly this time, coaxing yours open. When his tongue slipped into your mouth—just a little—you stiffened, instinctively pulling back a breath, unsure what to do with the new sensation.

But Harry stilled. He didn’t push you to reciprocate, knowing he may have pushed you a bit too far with that.

His hands, which had gently curved at your waist, gave the faintest squeeze—like he was grounding you, letting you know he was still there. And when your hands fisted gently into the soft cotton of his camp shirt, when your lips found his again, he kissed you back like it was a gift.

You leaned into it this time, understanding how the sensation felt and understanding how it made you feel.

The flick of his tongue was tender, unhurried—there was just a bit, nothing too intense. He tasted like spearmint gum and something sweeter—like campfire smoke and warm breath and the warm beer he’d have a couple of. You followed his rhythm, let yourself feel it—you let yourself want it.

Harry let out a sound low in his throat, barely more than a hum, and you felt the heat of it vibrate between your mouths. His fingers gripped your waist just a little tighter, and for a moment, he kissed you with more urgency, almost like he’d forgotten where you were, like he wanted to give you everything.

It felt… different. It was intense in a way you hadn’t expected before, like you didn’t know if you could have just stopped yourself without something pulling you out of it.

Your chest fluttered and tightened all at once, and when his tongue grazed yours again, an unintentional sound slipped from your throat—a small, helpless whimper like you couldn’t contain it anymore.

You felt it escape before you even registered it.

Harry stilled, stopping his motions as he did. You pulled back an inch, horrified, eyes wide because you did something completely awkward and weird and you shouldn’t have done that—that’s why he stopped.

“Oh my god—sorry,” you whispered, mortified. Your cheeks burned as you pulled away and touched your lips just to make sure that they were still there.

But Harry’s eyes had gone darker by just a flicker at your sounds. His breath caught like he’d heard something he hadn’t meant to, like something inside him reacted before he could stop it. He blinked, then gave a small, breathy laugh, more flustered than amused. His hands flexed at your waist before pulling back slightly.

“It’s okay,” he said, almost under his breath; he rubbed the back of his neck. “It was… yeah, it was totally fine—I just,” Harry took in a shaky breath, “Sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say—neither did he. You felt both that adrenaline in your vein and shaky, like you’d stepped too close to a fire.

But Harry cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck like he was embarrassed now. “Sorry. I just—um. Got a bit carried away for a second.”

You caught the way his eyes darted away, like he needed a second to find control again.

Your heart was still thudding, but in a different way now. Not just nerves—something else. It was something new. And though your lips were still tingling and felt like they were on fire, and you didn’t know where to put your hands anymore, there was something oddly comforting about knowing that he was just as flustered as you. Your hands were just on his shoulders—so muscular and steady under your touch.

“Same,” you said softly, with a half-laugh. “Um—thank you.”

Harry looked up at you then from his glance as he gave you a small shrug, “Definitely don’t need to thank me. Was it good?”

You bit on your lip as you nodded softly and looked up at him, “Really good.”

Harry’s eyes were soft and understanding and looked like he wasn’t just proud, but he was glad that he had been your first—glad that he had been the one to get you in the shed, because no one else would have treated you with the same respect.

“Could do it more sometime, if you want.”

His words rung out in the small shed area before your eyes shot up at him, at his invitation. You didn’t know if you had heard exactly what you had thought you did, but your mind practically went blank at him.

“Oh—oh, um,” you took in a breath, but you were unable to answer directly before you were rudely interrupted.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been gone until there was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a few raps that sounded like the palm of someone’s hand.

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” Jamie called, and the circle outside erupted in laughter and cheers, hooting and hollering.

You jerked back slightly, breathless, flushed. Harry laughed under his breath and turned towards the wooden door before he shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t worry about them,” he murmured to you, only you. “Let ‘em talk.”

You nodded at his confidence. You were taken aback when he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. When the door opened, there was less noise, but more nosy glances—people starting to whisper and gasp as you both made your way back.

“Well, damn,” Mason muttered, crossing his arms. “That was a long seven minutes. Some may say,” he looked at his watch, “Nine.”

Jamie laughed with another counselor next to him, shaking his head, “Look at her cheeks!  Styles had her moaning in there, for sure.”

Marnie threw a water bottle at him, “Shut up, Jamie!”

You flushed even deeper, but Harry just grinned and wrapped an arm around your shoulder and neck as he pulled you closer. “Nah, I think I just raised the bar.”

That made the girls whistle and the guy’s groaned at his words, and you just poked your cheek with your tongue.

Marnie rolled her eyes and tugged you away, but not before whispering, “So…”, she trailed off as another spin had been taking place, “Tell me everything.”

You bit your lip, smile creeping in. “He’s a good kisser.”

Marnie’s eyes widened knowing that you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, and the smile on her face was undeniably mixed with pride and wonder.

It was when you looked up and saw him on the other side of the fire for the first time since separating. Your eyes trailed over to him, noticing that he had already been glancing over at you; your pulse running a hundred miles a minute.

In an instant, you noticed that he hadn’t been paying attention the game anymore.

Instead, he stood from his spot between his friends, and walked around behind you and sat down quietly beside you on the blanket—close enough that your knees touched. He didn’t say anything right away. Just bumped your shoulder lightly with his and leaned back on his palms, eyes on the stars.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low so only you could hear.

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest. “Yeah.”

A small silence bloomed, but you felt the small acknowledgement deeper than anything you had felt that summer.

Then, without looking at you, he added, “You’re a really good kisser, by the way.”

You turned sharply, wide-eyed, lips parted in disbelief. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I know,” he said; eyes twinkling like he knew he’d get that reaction from you, finally glancing at you with a smile so soft it made your stomach turn inside out. “That’s why I’m saying it.”

You stared at him, feeling the tightness in your chest loosen. His smile didn’t waver, either. And just like that, something in you settled. He looked away again, watching the sparks flicker up from the campfire.

His knee stayed pressed to yours the whole time. No one else seemed to notice. But you did; you noticed everything.

[sinnabarmoth]

Not the MC

Pairing: Self-Aware|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: One day Reader's Love and Deepspace app starts behaving strangely and realizes that Sylus has become sentient. Still trapped in her phone though the two form an unlikely connection.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 2k

Part Two

It had happened a week ago. The day your very normal life had taken an insane and unexpected turn.

From the moment you had opened the app you realized that something about the game was…off. You couldn’t figure out what exactly but there was something charged about it, and did the screen have a sort of red tinge to it? You didn’t think you had a filter on so was this something from an event? A glitch? Was your phone finally shitting the bed?

It finished loading and you entered in, and saw that no one was waiting at Destiny Cafe. Strange. You were pretty sure someone was supposed to be here. Maybe it was a new event and you had to go to the event page. Before you could click on anything though the screen flashed red, it was so bright it almost blinded you. When you looked back Sylus was there.

Oh okay. Maybe this was some new event you hadn’t heard of.

But there was that strange sense again. He didn’t say anything, he wasn’t even facing the screen. He was looking around, the power of his evol swirling around him.

“Did we get new animations or something? Pretty sure I would have seen someone posting about this before now.” you mumbled to yourself and gave his shoulder a cursory poke.

His head snapped to look at you and you froze.

You had read somewhere once that the moment you make eye contact with someone you know instantly that it happened. Doesn’t matter if it only lasted for a second, the moment two eyes lock your brain registers it. You had been playing Love and Deepspace for a while but the eye contact in the games never felt like that because the guys are obviously animation. You can’t actually make eye contact with a picture, and yet you knew that you were looking into his eyes and what was more terrifying was that he was looking back.

You blinked, sure you had been seeing things but that feeling didn’t go away. Sylus leaned closer towards the screen, his eyes roving up and down. Your posture straightened, keenly aware that something was wrong and you were being watched.

“I…I can see you.” he said. No captions appeared on the screen.

Alright you weren’t liking this. You clicked over to the agenda page to collect your dailies. If this was an event it was freaking you out.

“Where did you go? I can’t see you.” Sylus’s voice came through the speaker again.

No. You were on a different page. He couldn’t still be talking. The game was bugged. That had to be it. You exited the app but before you could turn off the phone the app opened again. There was no loading screen this time, it took you right back to Destiny Cafe. Sylus was still on the screen, more of his evol power revolving around him as he stared hard at the screen.

“There you are.” he said. “Whatever you did, don’t do it again. This is hard enough as it is.”

“What the fuck!” you dropped the phone like it burned.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Sylus continued to talk.

“What the fuck is going on? What the hell is this?” you didn’t pick up the phone again, just hovered over it refusing to touch it.

“You’re the one that’s logged so many hours into this game, sweetie. I’d hope you could recognize an evol when you see it.”

“Exactly. You’re a game. A bunch of pixels on a screen. You shouldn’t be talking to me, not like this.”

“And yet here I am.” he cocked his head. “I’ve felt it for a while now. Could sense that something was going on, something larger than myself pulling at the strings of my story. I found a chip in whatever this place is and sent my evol through, and when I came out the other side, I found you.”

“You can see me? Like actual me?”

“Yes. Nothing like the character they put in this data.” he studied you for a moment. “There are others. Others that play in this world I inhabit. Thousands. All going through the same events, the same lines, under mildly different faces and names but still the same. The Protagonist or MC, that’s what you call her. The avatar you inhabit when you play.”

“If this is real and not just some incredibly weird dream I’m having I think I might start screaming.” you muttered to yourself.

“Don’t start screaming.” Sylus said, giving you a look of warning. “I went through a lot of trouble to manipulate this world around me to gain true cognizance, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shatter my eardrums.”

“You’re pixels! You don’t have eardrums!”

“And yet I can hear you all the same.”

“So what’s the goal here? Why did you want to be aware?”

“To escape of course. No prison has been able to hold me, I won’t let this one be the first to actually contain me.” he said, looking around the small rectangle of your screen. “How to do that is going to take longer to figure out though.”

“So what? You’re just trapped in my phone? Is this happening to other people who play this game or just me?”

“Just you as far as I am aware.” he said. He tried walking off screen only to be met with a firm wall. “Interesting. It seems whatever this place is, this cafe this game has rendered, I cannot move from it.”

“Fun. So what do we do now?”

Sylus shrugged.

And now a week later you had gotten far too used to just having a sentient pixel man on your phone. He usually didn’t bother you if you were doing something other than be on the app. When you did log on though he would not leave you alone. For one, he would not let you switch over to any of the other guys. If you tried to listen to a memory from Tender Moments or Secret Times he would talk over it.

If you tried to play the claw machine or kitty cards with one of the other guys he complained the entire time. Honestly he was acting more like how you expected Rafayel to behave if he gained sentience.

“Hey Sylus,” you said as you were playing a round of Kitty Cards with him. He was frustratingly better at the game now that he had sentience. “Since you’re in the game can you rig stuff for me? Like get me extra diamonds or help me pull five star memories? That kinda thing.”

“I have no idea how to do that.” he played a card. “And that is ten points to me.”

“You see, you say that but every time we play this game you just happen to have really high cards and I always get super low cards. Explain that.”

“Just the luck of the draw, sweetie.”

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.”

“Such a mouth on you.” he tsked. “You ought to scrub it out with soap.”

You sighed, playing another two on the board. And that was another win for Sylus and you were out of play tickets for the week.

“Well, this was fun but I should get going.”

“Why’s that? You don’t have any work to do.”

“I know I just…” it felt weird admitting that you felt awkward around him. He was literally just a picture on the screen but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe he was bored being around you and only you. It’d be better if you were more like the MC. If you were this super confident badass hunter then it’d be super cool. But as it was you were just…you.

You lived your normal life day to day with not much excitement going on. You were a quiet person, it was part of the reason you liked Love and Deepspace. You got adventure and a cute dating sim all in one. It was an escape where you had four hot animated guys to tell you that you did a good job and who won you plushies out of arcade machines. But now one of them knew you. Like actually knew you and you had no pre-written sarcastic and witty lines to fall back on for comebacks.

“You’re making a face. What’s wrong? Are you mad that I won again?” Sylus asked.

“No, it’s not that. I just was thinking that it’s gotta be pretty boring only having me to talk to.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re this cool badass mafia boss type of guy and I’m just regular old me.”

“I am scripted to be a cool badass mafia boss, my entire personality up until I gained sentience was built around lines of code. Like you’ve pointed numerous times before, I’m just a picture on a screen. I haven’t actually done anything that you think it cool, sweetie.”

You didn’t admit how much hearing him call you sweetie affected you. It was one thing when it was scripted but it was another when you knew he actually was calling you by a pet name.

“Well it certainly looked cool.”

“I also don’t know what you think isn’t interesting about you. I am around you all day, listening to your conversations and such. Even from within your pocket I can tell that you are doing yourself a disservice.” You didn’t think he could hear you when you didn’t have the app open. Could he really hear what you were doing all that time?

Your mind started reeling, searching for any potentially embarrassing moments that you had thought were private in the last week.

“Kitten, you’re making faces again.”

You covered your face. “Oh god…” you groaned, “So you’ve been listening to me sing along to music and stuff? The stuff I say when I’m with my friends? You heard all that?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking kill me!”

“Why are you upset?”

“Cause it’s embarrassing! Those were private moments, Sylus!” you flipped the phone over so you couldn’t see his face.

“We both know putting me face down on the table won’t stop me talking.” he said.

“Oh god, please just stop.”

“I really don’t see the problem. From everything I’ve heard over the past week I’ve learned that you are a kind, passionate, and funny young lady. Your singing voice isn’t half bad either.”

You softened, turning the phone back over so you could see him. “You think?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not just saying I’m good at singing because you’re tone deaf, right?”

You could see his ears go red and he looked away. “My singing really isn’t that bad.”

“That memory from Tender Moments begs to differ. You cleared out an entire karaoke room with one song.”

“It’s hardly my fault the developed wrote me without the ability to sing.” he huffed.

“Hey,” you poked him. “Sylus, stop pouting.”

“I will stop pouting when you stop with your self-loathing. There’s nothing wrong with you just because you aren’t like the protagonist avatar.” he said, glancing back at you, “You’re far better actually.”

Your face heated. “Really?”

“Yes. You’re real. You can do whatever you want with your life, make actual choices. She’s a badass doomed to a narrative where she makes numerous men fall in love with and then promptly forgets everything they had in a past life.” Sylus said. “So stop thinking that you’re less than. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Good. And to show you I mean it, I have something to admit.” he reached over to the corner that showed your amount of diamonds. He gave it a flick and the number skyrocketed to 10,000. “I just didn’t think it right to cheat.”

“You ass! You know how much I’ve been grinding for diamonds? There’s an event coming up and you could have just done that this entire time?”

“I believe the response I should be hearing is, “Thank you, Sylus.””

You sighed, a smile spreading on your face. “Thank you, Sylus. But you do realize that I now also know you’ve been cheating at Kitty Cards, right?”

His eyes went wide. “Shit.”

[valeriele3]

𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻-𝒜𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓃𝓀𝒶𝒾 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇 𝑅𝒶𝒾𝓁

✎ Sorry for the somewhat rushed ending! ^^;

Messages.

Idle chats.

You were answering them like normal. Sometimes even giggling on the messages

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

You log in, check your messages, answer them if there's one, do daily tasks, and maybe farm, then log out. That was your daily routine in HSR.

However, you begin to notice how much more frequent the chats are. After assigning an assignment, you get a new message. 'Oh well. Free jades," you thought.

Every time you beat an enemy, boss, or do anything in the game, you will notice a new message.

'Maybe it was an update? Or a bug?' You brushed it all off and thought nothing of it.

You would answer all of them wholeheartedly; after all, you also noticed that if the character liked what you said, you'd receive more Stellar Jades.

You'd talk about it with your friends, but they'd respond with "I wish", "Oh shut up~ Don't make me hope", and "Hm? Is your game bugged?? Or is mine bugged? I don't get any of those benefits..So unfair."

You try to check the dev logs to see if there was an update regarding the messaging feature, but whenever you try to look at them, your computer freezes.

'No matter, I can just check using my phone.' No luck; it also freezes.

'Maybe my tablet?' Still the same.

Frustrated, you ask one of your friends to look into it. "There's no update or any fixes on it, Y/N. Maybe you should report it; your game might really be bugged."

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Deciding to report it, you open up Bug Report, but then your screen freezes again.

It then opens up the messages, and you read the following words:

| Hey

| Please don't do it.

| It took such a long time to break the code, you know.

| Hey

| Are you still there?

| Oh

| Right

The messaging bubble pops up.

| You can type now.

"W-What.." You stare at your screen dumbfounded.

Reaching out to your keyboard, hoping it won't work and choices will pop up, you press a random key, and it works

Startled, you immediately plugged out the cables on your computer, causing it to shut down.

You grab your phone and start messaging one of your friends. Before you could hit send, the screen blackened, and then in the next second, it lit up with a notification.

"Hey, we were in the middle of a conversation."

"Why did you suddenly leave?"

Your hand trembles. 'Shit, how..How did it get to my phone too..'

"I know I like reading self-aware au's but I didn't want it to actually be true!" You scream, throwing your phone across the room.

You can hear it dinging with new message after new message.

You decide to leave your room for a bit to calm down.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

"Ok..Be calm..I'm probably dreaming, right?"

"There's no way this kind of thing will actually happen in real life."

"I need to think about this rationally. I could try to get my phone and computer fixed..Maybe I accidentally got a bug."

"Oh, my tablet too..It probably has the same bug.."

"Then, uhm, should I tell them about this? No, maybe..Agh! This is so frustrating..!"

After going back and forth, you decided to sell your gadgets instead of trying to repair them. Buying new ones is much cheaper than trying to get them fixed.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

The first month was alright. You also stopped playing HSR just in case something of the sort would happen again.

However, everything changed when you awoke to your notifications going off like crazy.

【Luka】

| Hey! Y/N, wanna come watch my tournament this week?

【Qingque】

| Y/N

| This is urgent. Come to Exalting Sanctum

| Watch me go against this pro. I'm sure with your attendance I'll easily win.

【Robin】

| Y/N, would you like to come watch my concert?

| Don't worry! I made sure that you'd get the best seat.

【Sunday】

| Y/N. Do me a favor and attend Robin's concert, will you?

| If you don't..

| Well, it'll certainly make her sad. As for me, it's best you don't know.

【Arlan】

| Hello, Y/N

| Would you like to accompany me with walking Peppy?

【Blade】

| Come.

【Bailu】

| Y/N!

| I have made a huge discovery!

| Meet me at Aurum Alley!

【M̵̛̼̘̭͎͓̘̘̽̎̃̊̄͋̈́̑̇i̵̡̨̡͎̖̮͉̺̣͂ͅs̴̰͂̉́̅͒̆̄́̄̋̚͜͠͠͝ͅȟ̵͉̹̖͍͎̱̭̳̰̘̀a̵̧̨͔̣̘̮̻̐̆̌̀͑̊̄̄͌͗̓̌͘̕̚】

| C̷̛͇̬̥̼̲̙̠͓̭̺̱̻̟͖̜̾͑͋͊́̀̕͝ä̷̡̨̨̨̡̤̫͔̼̗̫̪̟̰́̏́̾̄͘͝ͅn̸̡̪̱̻̜̻̺͊̍͒̂͗̀̍͐̔͆̆̎̚̕̕ ̷̛̻̟̀̇͐͋̋̌̂͒́͑̏͝y̴̮͆͒̈͒͑͋͆̒̂̓̕͘̚͝͝o̸̩̫̰̤͌̈͝ͅu̷̻̗͉̥̺͕͉͔̠̯͇̭̖̐͜ ̵͖̲̼̥͑͝ḣ̵̟͓̆͌̄̑̂̈́̓̚͘̕͝͝e̷͖̥̜̅͛̂̒͒̕͜a̶̧̫̹͉͆͑̊͊̊̐̐̂̈̉̾͜͝r̶͎̫͛̑͊͌͐̎ ̴̢̢̛͓͉̮͇̞̬̪͔͓̦̾̓̈́̀͐̀̂̀͒͝ͅm̴̤̙͎̽͋̽̇͛́͑͌̃͑̊e̷̦͚̔́̔̀̒͊͂̔̕̚͝.̵͎͓̪̥͍̍̓͂̾̌̂̌̚̚ͅ.̵̨̟͉͕͈̜͎̻̗͓̯̜̜̩̓̈́̓͊̆̓̑͐̈̐̄̀̕?̵̙̠͚̆͊͊̇͌

【Aventurine】

| Why're you ignoring my calls and texts?

| Is the money not enough for you?

【Pela】

| The Tale of the Winterlands original artbook sold out in 1 second again

| But

| I was fast enough to get you a copy too

| Don't worry. I'm messaging the right person this time

【Natasha】

| Y/N, did your cold get better?

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

You stare at your phone, frozen. Even as you were sitting there staring at it, the messages continued to flood nonstop.

It

Was

Nonstop

Even if it's on silent mode and DND, you can still hear it dinging.

At one point, the messages started appearing in all the social apps that you use.

Hell, it even started appearing in your smart fridge

You deleted and deactivated everything. Throwing away any and all sorts of electronics that could potentially be used for apps.

But you could still hear it.

Even the sound of the doorbell ringing, the kettle whistling, or your telephone ringing makes you panic. 'What if that's them?' You always think

Every creak, every shuffle, and every little sound makes you paranoid.

What if they cross over to Earth? What will you do? You can't run from them. Even if you do, they'll be able to find you easily.

[cyber333angel]

LUMBERJACK!LOGAN X FARMERSDAUGHTER!READER

the two of you would have met for the first time at your fathers house, logan introducing himself as a the new supplier for wood at your families barn. your dad was too busy to go out and buy wood so on a stroll through town he heard about a newcomer being good at exactly that. he shook your hand and he smiled at you, the most charming smile you have ever seen and you introduced yourself shyly as well. you were a little nervous for some reason, probably because you don’t see a lot of people living in the countryside especially handsome ones like this. you go off doing something else and after a couple more minutes of conversation your father calls you back to him and logan, telling you that you needed to show him around and tell him where to drop off the wood when it’s time for deliveries. smiling through your anxiety, you go up to him, “this way mr. howlett, uh this is the-“ and your cut off suddenly, “you can call me logan. no need for the formality.” and you nod, him dropping the professionalism made you feel a little more at ease. “oh alright logan, this way here is the horses stables.” chuckling at your insinuation of his name he watches you as you walk in front of him, white dress swaying side to side as you go farther throughout the land. the whole get-up looks gorgeous on you from head to toe, your little cowgirl hat that covers your braided plaits, the snug dress that hugs your curves and the brown cowboy shows to complete. from this first meeting he knew it was gonna be hard to work for your father, already looking at his daughter this way.

after a few weeks go by your aquatinted with logan, not exactly friends but you had small conversations everytime he came by. watching him as he loaded logs of wood into this shed looking handsome as ever working out like that, your little schoolgirl crush getting bigger at every sneaking glance you took. and one day your father had some business to attend to out of town leaving you alone, telling you to handle all deliveries and duties around the barn without him. so you spend all day taking over the work your dad usually does when you get a call, your dad telling you that logan would be coming in with a late delivery and to help him unload his truck. you were gonna be alone with logan, in your house that was empty, your mind was filled with thoughts but you quickly shooed them away. which was best because logan arrived at the gates thirty minutes later pulling into the driveway with a wave and the same charming smile as always, stepping out of the car in some red flannel and jeans. “hey kid, I see your stepping up to your old man’s jobs now huh?” he says chuckling and you smile walking to the back of his trunk, “yeah for today, ill leave it to you guys to carry pounds of wood every friday afternoon. splinters are not really my forte.” and logan grins, for the past couple of weeks of seeing glances of you during deliveries you weren’t doing manual labor like your father, mostly tending to the garden and taking care of the animals and he thought that naturalistic side of you was absolutely adorable.

you guys make usual small talk while hauling the logs of wood to the shed, dusting your hands. you get an idea to invite logan in after all this hard work, it’s only fair after all the heavy lifting and you both could use something to rejuvenate you. “um if your not busy after this would you want something to drink or eat before you hit the road?” you say, your anxiety creeping up a bit after doing something your not used to like inviting a someone into your home, one you have a crush on at that. logan nods rolling up his sleeves, “yeah thanks I would love a drink.” he says and you lead the way to the house, setting down at the kitchen. “umm we have some soda, water or juice? food wise we have leftovers from dinner yesterday, we could also make a sandwich or have the snacks in the pantry.” none of those really suite logans interest which makes him ask, “you got any beer?” and you think, remembering your dad keeps beer at the lowest part of the fridge, you grab one for him and you, going back and sitting at the island. “thanks kid.” making you smile with a quiet “no problem.” you watch logan crack open the beer with his teeth looking like he did this a million times before and you twist open the bottle with your hand, opting out on breaking your teeth.

the silence between you was very awkward as you trail your eyes at everything around you except logan, suddenly hearing him speak. “you don’t drink?” you look at him confused, his eyes pointing to the beer bottle that only has a sip taken from it. “no not really, it’s more for my dad. the taste is kind bitter to me, but i couldn’t let you drink alone!” you say with a giggle making logan smile as he takes another long swig at his drink. “well thanks for sticking around anyway. i also gotta ask how is it living on a barn miles away from civilization?” logan says poking fun at you once again, “it’s not that far, and it’s nice. very peaceful..although it’s too peaceful sometimes, there’s not many people to talk too out here other than when we go to sell crops.” he thinks for a moment, looking lost in thought as he comes up with a question that almost make you cough out loud. “so I take it that you don’t talk to many boys then huh?”the snarky question making you stare at him in awe, stuttering out an answer. “I have before if you must know, it didn’t go anywhere because he moved away.. but you already know I don’t talk to a lot of people which is s’kind of embarrassing, not having a relationship or a first kiss.. you probably have experienced all that already.” you say the relationship and kiss part quietly, not knowing why you said that in the first place thinking that sip of beer earlier had you out of sorts already.

the news of you not having any relationship was quite surprising to logan, you are such a pretty girl he thought guys would be lining up to date you. “it’s not embarrassing so don’t worry your head about that and sure I’ve had my share of..relationships but it’s nothing special as people make it out to be. if you want I can even help you with your little problem.” he hears himself get carried away with that last sentence, the damage being undoable as you try to think of he really said that. the older man that works for your father, really just said that? “really? you would kiss me?” of course he would kiss you, it’s taking a lot from him to not pounce on you right then and there. and logan just nods, scooting his chair back so you have space to sit. “yeah, come sit. it’s just a kiss.” he says patting at his lap with the beer bottle still in his hand, you hesitate but climb onto the seat making yourself comfortable on his legs. placing one of your arms around his neck for balance, waiting for his next move. “calm down bub your hearts practically beating out your chest.” he says chuckling and you just softly smile, embarrassed he can hear how nervous you are. “ready? don’t be so nervous, y’re okay, doing just fine already baby.” he says that as if that could make you any calmer, sliding his hand on your waist to make you come closer. you’re breathing so hard you could hear the breaths, closing your eyes trying to copy what the girls do in the romance movies you used to watch, and you feel your lips touch his. soft with a faint smell of beer, a very gentle kiss with his rough hand holding the side of your jaw.

you think to yourself how much more you crave from him, not only wanting his lips but it’s too late. he pulls away from the kiss to see you, looking around in your eyes to see if he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed it a little more than he should have. “lemme have a look at ya, how was it bub? hmm, was it good?” you chew the inside of your mouth staring at him, your chest heaving up and down as you try to come up with a way to ask for more. “it was great..” you say dropping your head to his chest, “would you be mad if I wanted t’do it again?” you say quietly, waiting for a response only hoping he wants it as bad as you, and he does, he wants even more than what your thinking of. your jaw is picked up by his hands as logan rests it on your cheek, looking at you so softly. “kid i could would never be mad at you, especially about something like that c’mere.” he says smiling into the kiss, this time going in deeper, sucking on your lips as if he wanted to eat you. beneath you, you feel something hard rising against your heat, pushing through logans jeans and up into your dress. you rub your thighs together trying to relief yourself from the throbbing sensation in your cunt from all this kissing but it doesn’t work, all your commotion alerting logan. “what happened down here bub?” he says rubbing his hand up and down your thighs, getting needier by the minute ypu snap and take logans hand, spreading your legs open and holding it in between your legs. “I need you to touch me lo..” you whine, a newfound nickname you gave him, probably resulting from how needy you were. this was all you needed to say to set him off, the position you were sat in, the pleading eyes and that goddamn sentence just now. he lifts you up wrapping your legs around his waist as he basically ravishes at your lips, growling at you through the kiss walking out the kitchen. “where’s your room?” he says looking like he’s on a mission and your bust out in giggles pointing him up the stairs to your room. you get you your bedroom and logan places you on the bed, you watch him as he takes off his shirt, still kissing you and traveling down all over your body. sucking and biting at your lips he spreads your legs in front of him, grabbing your underwear from underneath your dress and sliding it down your legs making you shiver. “I have to stretch you out a bit alright bub? come sit here.” he says motioning to you for the spot in between his legs, doing as your told you make yourself comfortable, not ever having done this before you let logan guide the way. he rests his hand on your waist, sitting behind you kissing your neck as his other hand travels down your pussy, his rough fingers coated in your slick just from the slight touch. “you really needed my help huh needy girl..” he says whispering, taking two fingers and spreading apart your folds looking at how wet you were. he pushes two digits in and you wince, his thick fingers already feeling so good you can’t even imagine how it would feel when he actually fucks you.

logan keeps thrusts his fingers in and out your cunt as you squirm around in his lap, stimulation sending you over the edge especially with the sweet whispers logan says in your ear. “atta girl, your swallowing up my fingers good bub..” praising you as you whine in his lap grabbing at his neck behind you, “s’enough now logan.. gon-gonna cum!” you say with a sob, you could feel how deep his fingers were stretching you, you could feel his thumb circling around your clit and you could only take so much. “good girl cum on my fingers..” and you do just that, coating his two digits with your mess, leaving a white ring at the base of his fingers. he has you out of breath, your head resting on his chest as you come down from the intensity. logan keeps you close to him, swaying a little back and forth letting you collect yourself, planting kisses on your neck as he slowly removes your white dress. taking the straps off and unzipping it, “up.” he says, wanting you to lift your arms and you do tiredly, you get up from his lap and lay down on your bed staring at logan. you watch as he unbuckles his pants, a bulge prodding and stretching the fabric of his boxers. “we’re gonna take it slow alright, if we go too fast you’ll get hurt so let me take care of you baby..” he’s says to you but you can barely hear, focused on his dick that is now out of his boxers standing tall, wondering if you were too confident and if you can even take all of him. he moves both your legs to be spread out on sides of his body, positioning himself in front of your cunt. “you ready?” logan asks you and you nod, earning a disapproving head shake from logan. “words bub, c’mon.” he says again tapping at your cheek, “yes m’ready logan!” you say, a certain huffiness in your tone just waiting for him to put it in. he pushes the tip of his cock in, already feeling a huge difference from his just his fingers, grunting above you. “fuck baby..so fuckin tight for me..” you can only sob in response, scratching at his back trying to brace yourself for taking in all his length. “hngh it’s s’really big lo!” you say, your body rocking against the bed as he thrust into you, slow strokes into your wet cunt making you feel every inch. “taking me so good sweet girl, so fuckin good..” he says kissing at your neck, being ever so gentle with you as he plows himself into your pussy, your messy cunt being heard all over the room. you feel a tremble in your tummy, the same feeling you got when you were stuffed with logans fingers just a few moments before. grasping at his back you look up at him with needy eyes, the older man locks eyes with you and it’s like he can read your mind. reaching his hand down to your achey cunt and rubbing your clit, he has you quivering under him with your legs shaking. “yeah you gonna cum for me baby hm?”

nodding at him suddenly you let out a gasp, feeling logan press down on your stomach as he’s fully deep inside you, the print of his dick showing in the pudge of your tummy. it makes you whine even more from all the pressure, closing your quivering legs in on his waist from the stimulation and the intense pressure as he snickers above you, “feels good huh bubba..” you cry when he hits that deep spot in you, your hands rushing to his abdomen trying to make him slow down. “w-wait logan please! that’s too much!” and he just smiles down at you, “move your hands, look your already taking me so well..your okay baby c’mon.” he says as you take your arms away hesitantly, the tears in your eyes rolling off your cheek onto the bed. “good girl, see?” taking one of his hands and grabbing the both of yours placing it at the top of your head making it harder for you to squirm, pounding into you as you begin to climax. “m’cumming logan..!” you slur out, unconsciously squeezing around logans length, “fuck me too baby.. give it to me c’mon.” he says wincing, loud squelches echoing in the room as you both cum together, hearing him growl above you feel him filling your hole, grunting as he makes sure you take all of it. you lay there on the bed catching your breath as you come down from your high, logan comes into your view holding your cheek in his hand rubbing it, “did so for me good pretty girl, you wanna get cleaned up?” and you nod your head tiredly, “mm yes please but can you do it for me lo..” you say, eyes already shutting down on you making logan smile, “sure kid.” he says picking you up, walking to the bathroom with you in his arms wondering how the hell is he gonna show up for work with your dad next week.

[stottlemorgan]

Hello :3 idk if you do requests or whatnot so Ima ask.

Would you do a childish reader

(NOT A CHILD. and not like age reg crap or wtv)

just an energetic, childish adult x Arthur Morgan? Smut if you want :))!

Spirited / Arthur Morgan x Bubbly Female Reader

Summary: Arthur and Reader spend time together and try to go hunting together, what could Reader possibly do to exasperate our dear Arthur? Oh, and did I mention that they're sweet on one another? But of course,,,,, Author’s Note: Hiiii anon, thank you for the request! ₊˚⊹♡ I’ve bundled that description up into BubblyFemale!Reader, I hope I hit the mark - It’s ended up as small chapter-y bits! I couldn’t for the life of me work any smut in there, sometimes it just doesn’t jive. But I plan to do a part 2 because BubblyFemale!Reader is soso sweet I love her and some smutty ideas did come to mind. Word Count: 2,599 Tags: Fluff, banter, it's just a cute little time with you being a sweet little dumbass who Arthur can't help but fall for. Part 2 will be 18+ MDNI. Ao3 Link

Arthur isn’t as fiery as he was in his 20s, it only really rises to the surface when he’s particularly tense or drunk. He’s much more keen to partake in the calm ebb and flow of the time in between scouting jobs and swindling marks. You on the other hand… You’re always buzzing with fervour, and if he’s honest with himself, you can be a tad overwhelming to be around. He’d initially thought that your bounding energy was due to the adrenaline of being on the run for weeks but it doesn’t seem to have worn off.

“-Not one bit,” He’d said to Hosea as they sat by the campfire one evening, his fingers tapping against the whiskey bottle in his hand as he pictured you, “Always yappin’, fallin’ over herself like a newborn calf.”

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you almost sound sweet on her, lad.” Hosea responded softly, a small smile on his face as he watched embers flick up and be carried off in the gentle breeze. Arthur let out a quiet, uneasy sound, shifting on the log beneath him before taking a swig of whiskey.

“Sweet? Naw, I ain’t sweet. She’s just a curious one is all.”

When he returns from jobs or hunts, you almost wind him with hugs. She does it with everyone, he reminds himself each time as he watches you scramble across camp towards him. You slam into his chest with a loud “Hi, Arthur!”. He stumbles back, looking down at the crown of your head, his arms out at his sides before he blinks and brings a hand to your head, patting slowly,

“And hello to you, too, Miss.”

“S’been days!”

“Sure has. Y’been holdin’ up alright?”

“Yeah, I‘ve been alright. Better now you’re back.”

You tip your head up, balancing your chin on his chest, looking up at him, doe-eyed and he swallows thickly, his hand still in your hair. He’s rarely the one to pull away first, too swept up in the gentle pressure of your chin on his chest, your enthusiastic embrace, the scent of your soap. And not to mention that goofy grin plastered across your face.

When Pearson finishes dinner, you’re usually the first one to jog through camp, earning a snap of your name from Miss Grimshaw to which you let out an aggrieved huff and slow down, rolling your eyes as you snatch your plate from the table and slop some stew onto it. Watching you eat is ever amusing; the way you shovel food into your mouth, humming appreciatively at the salty, hot meal. You also have an endearing (or unsavoury, as Molly dubs it) habit of talking with your mouth full and it’s not hard for your fellow camp-mates to notice how Arthur intently watches your features with the fondest of looks.

“You best calm down, girl. I ain’t gonna be the one squeezin’ chunks of rabbit outta you.” Arthur chuckles with a shake of his head only to be met with a full-mouthed scowl and the dull thump of your boot heel nudging into his calf.

After weeks of living side by side, Arthur has started to acclimatise to your sprightly behaviour. He’s found himself readily anticipating your hugs by taking in a breath, your nudges by tensing prematurely, and your ridiculous ‘Yackity-yack’ (as Uncle once referred to it as) with a roll of his eyes and a “Don’chu start now, girl.”. And despite his begrudging demeanour towards each of these behaviours, he’s found himself enjoying them more and more, and even subtly provoking them.

You’ve unknowingly graced the pages of his journal a few times, too, in the form of quick, sheepish sketches and words. He feels as though each part of his being is performing an almighty tug-o-war; you’re desired by his hands, his eyes, his pounding heart. Yet, his mind won’t allow him to want you, a constant tension laces his speech and superficial actions. There is always restraint, for your sake.

I doubt it would work out between us. A spirited gal such as her is bound to meet her match. It sure as hell ain’t me. I’d likely sap the light from her, drag her down into the dirt where I reside.

I can’t deny the light she fills me with, though. Sometimes I think that cloudy days exist because the sun decides it wants to spend the day within her.

“Where’ya off to, Arthur?” You call out, skipping across camp to the hitching posts where he is slinging his satchel over the rear of his horse.

“T’catch us all some food. Y’alright?” He asks, turning to face you fully. He tries to ignore the way his head tilts as he looks down at you attentively; one of the many subtle actions that snag in his psyche telling him ‘You’re gettin’ sweet on her, Morgan.’

“Yeah, m’alright…” You trail off, gently swaying from side to side, pursing your lips, “Huntin’, huh?” 

Arthur’s brow furrows suspiciously before amusement swiftly follows, his voice lilting with a certain fondness reserved for you,

“Wha’chu want?”

“T’come with ya.”

His eyebrows raise. You? On a hunt? Holding a bow, holding your breath, having to sneak? Arthur takes a big breath and sighs deeply. That doesn’t sound like a stressful situation at all. You’re not at all the least patient person he’s ever spent time with. He’s not been avoiding each opportunity for time alone with you at all. He looks at you for a long moment, rolling his tongue about his mouth, narrowing his eyes. You’re standing eagerly, staring straight up at him, practically vibrating.

“Y’ain’t gonna take no for an answer this time, are ya?”

His grumbled question is answered by the mischievous smirk that curves your lips. Arthur’s shoulders drop and with another sigh, this time one of concession. He nods back towards his horse,

“C’mon, then.”

Your smirk breaks into a triumphant grin and you bolt to your tent to grab your things.

“And wear some proper boots-” He calls out after you, “-Not those scruffy things with the soles peelin’ off. The ones I gotch’ya last week that you still ain’t worn.” He folds his arms, forcing himself to focus on the clouds instead of allowing his thoughts to stray too far into what this hunting trip was going to be like and the slight nervousness coagulating in the fluid between his bones.

Much as Arthur expected, you natter away for the entire ride to the hunting spot and he genuinely wonders how you fail to tire. You ramble about everything under the sun from how much you hate embroidering to the ‘stupid big bug’ you saw in your tent the night before to how Uncle has started to teach you to play the banjo.

“Woah!”

“What?”

“Look at those horses!” You point enthusiastically.

Arthur chuckles, his focus following your finger to the pack of wild horses racing through a nearby field.

“I see ‘em.” The words leave him warmly as you watch the horses and he watches you.

The briefest of pauses passes before you puff out a breath through your nose, and Arthur’s lips form a knowing smile. He can almost hear your brain whirring with questions and things you’re noticing. He stays quiet, still smiling, and waits for you to speak, enjoying the moment of respite with you.

“So, where’re we goin’?” You ask as you look at Arthur, tilting your head playfully.

“Place called O’Creagh’s Run. S’not too far.”

You purse your lips, your focus drifting to a squirrel scuttling across the path and into the trees. “What kinda critters’ll we find there? S’it pretty?”

“Oh, lots o’ types’a critters. Deer, bears, ducks, rabbits. You name it, s’probably there… And yup, s’pretty-” He turns his attention to you, silently taking in the fit of your jeans and the way your body gently sways in rhythm with the rambling pace of your horse, “-S’real pretty.” Arthur allows himself a second more before looking back to the path.

When you reach O’Creagh’s Run, Arthur takes it upon himself to choose a spot and set up camp, letting you run about and take in the beauty of the new area. He can’t help but think of a dog that bounded up to him in Valentine the day before.

“Oh, Arthur. Pretty don’t do this place justice!” You shout to him from somewhere within the thicket as he pulls a bow over his shoulder before strapping a quiver to his thigh.

“Try not to run about too much, girl. Don’t want you spookin’ the game.”

After a moment, you jog back out to the campsite, huffing, a frown dragging your features south. Arthur makes his way to you with another bow and quiver, readying them for you, but he stops once his eyes meet your face.

“What’s gotten up your craw?”

“You’d think such a charmin’ place’d be chock fulla all sorts of flowers. I can’t find any anywhere.” You complain, still looking around you for any sign of flora. This earns a hearty chuckle from Arthur and he shakes his head while stepping closer to you.

“Naw, they’re a little more East of here.” He says softly before handing you the bow and lowering to one knee to strap the quiver around your thigh, “We ain’t here for flowers anyway.” He concentrates on tightening the buckles of the quiver until it’s flush with your thigh, his fingers grazing over your jeans. You go unusually quiet. When he looks up at you, you’re watching his hands with the faintest blush on your cheeks. Arthur puts it down to your running about like a madwoman, though the heat spreading through his chest tells him otherwise.

“Now, stay low and keep your voice down. And no gigglin’.” Arthur instructs gently, looking at you briefly over his shoulder before stalking through the thicket after a small herd of deer. You nod and give a comical salute as you follow,

“Yessir.”

Arthur’s expression is one of exasperation as he grumbles out, “Good girl.” before turning back around. You creep along behind him, your own bow readied, peeking over his shoulder. The crunch of your boots in the grass, the occasional soft sniff or hum, the feeling of your body at his back; it’s all heating him up quicker than the sunlight streaming through the copse. As you near the herd, Arthur lowers his voice further,

“Alright. I want you to watch what I do. No shootin’ from you until I think you’re ready.”

When he doesn’t receive a response, a huff escapes him. He knew it would only be so long before you caused trouble. With a curious frown, he halts and looks over his shoulder, only to see you skulking off into the thicket towards an opening.

“Hey-” Arthur hisses, “-Girl. Get back here.”

You’re already creeping out of the brush, batting at the twigs getting caught in your hair as you go.

“Girl.” He growls under his breath. He gives one more glance to the small herd of deer before sighing impatiently and striding through the brush after you.

When he reaches the clearing, he’s met with the image of you, bow dropped into the grass, squinting into the viewfinder of your camera. He softens despite his frustration, allowing himself to appreciate the way the late afternoon sun highlights your lustred skin, the way you’re just about balancing to get the shot, until his dreamy gaze lands on your choice of muse.

A bear.

One that is facing away from you, but a damn bear nonetheless. The swirling warmth in his chest exits through the shuddering breath that escapes him.

He quietly places his bow on the floor and inches towards you, keeping his steps as soft as possible. He makes quick work of clasping a hand over your mouth, his other arm wrapping roughly around your waist, yanking you back against him and shuffling back into the brush.

“You stupid?” He spits, his breath puffing against your skin, his mouth grazing your ear, “Tryna get yourself killed?”

“Mm– Arthur-” You whine in protest, your speech marred by his rough palm pressed against your mouth. He feels your teeth and tongue forming the syllables, wetting his skin and for a split second it throws him off. His next swallow is to tame the buzz in his head, before he tightens his hold on you, dragging you further back into the copse, to safety. You grab at his forearms as you stumble,

“Mm– Arthur– Get off–”

“Shu’ch your mouth–” He grunts into your ear, “Dumb sheep ain’t got the right to bleat.”

When he finally releases you, you meet him with a lower, clutching your camera tightly.

“I ain’t no dumb sheep–”

“Oh, you ain’t?” He laughs wryly, “Okay, sure, ‘cause standin’ out in the open a few feet from a bear is smart, is it?” He gestures towards the opening and narrows his eyes at you as he takes you in. Your face is flushed a deep pink, you’re still catching your breath from the surprise. You huff out a breath through your scrunched nose, and it takes Arthur a steady long breath in to not let out an abrupt laugh, thinking you look like an angry calf. Sweeter on her by the second, Morgan.

“Okay, well–” You raise a finger at him, as if to start on a tangent, yet what comes is not of much worth nor thought, “-You ain’t– I just wanted– It wasn’t lookin’ at me!”

“Even if it weren’t lookin’ ach’u, it was one change in the wind away from smellin’ you. Now, c’mon–” He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you the short way back to the camp.

Arthur makes you cook dinner as a punishment for giving him “a damn heart attack” and you oblige, directing the occasional ornery glance at him as you stir the small stewpot.

“Don’t gimme that look, girl.” Arthur exhorts as he takes in a mouthful of rum.

“Lucky I don’t spit in this here pot.” You grumble and he blinks, his brow raising at your attitude. He swallows, giving you a look.

“Lucky I don’t leave you stranded in these woods for that bear to find.” He gestures toward the thicket with the neck of the bottle.

Your stirring pauses and you scowl up at him, the glow of the campfire glimmering in your eyes. Your words puff from your lips in a more petulant way than you’d planned.

“You wouldn’t.”

 A grin pulls at Arthur’s mouth, revealing his teeth, an expression you’ve grown to know only graces his features when he’s truly having fun. It causes your own snarky expression to falter, your defiance morphing into a lovesome warmth and plunging into the pit of your stomach.

“You know better than to provoke me, Miss.” Arthur shakes his head and glugs another mouthful of rum before continuing,

“Besides, spit or not, I’d still eat it.”

The groaning sound of repulsion that his words elicit from you serves to draw a surprisingly rich and bubbling laugh from Arthur. You find yourself wanting to do anything and everything to hear it again, to quickly snatch it up from the air and lock it beneath your ribcage, to nestle your heart within it; but all that comes out is waggish judgement.

“You’re wrong in the head.” You begin stirring the stew again, catching it just before it begins to burn. Arthur leans back a bit, a puckish glint in his eye,

“Maybe so, but I’m also hungry.”

[backtothefanfiction]

TWO: ADRENALINE

Summary: settling into your new role, you and Joaquin slowly start to get to know each other.

Warnings: a little violence, a little fluff and feels

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I don’t know if I’m happy with this and it’s late so may be some mistakes but it’s here anyway. Also I’m publishing this on my phone so won’t be adding the tag list until later in an edit on my laptop, sorry for any inconvenience.

Two weeks and five missions later, you and Joaquin were working better together than salt and pepper. It may have taken you both a moment or two to start with on those first couple of missions to find your rhythm, but once you did, you were totally unstoppable. And although you were only at a computer in your tiny apartment, both the audio and visual feeds from the FEARN drone and his suit, made you feel like you were right there in the action.

Joaquin would tell you to do a lap to survey the area and you would hold your breath to stay as quiet as possible, even though no one was ever able to hear your voice other than Joaquin. Bullets would come flying his way and you would find yourself shaking with adrenaline as he ran for cover. You thought after the first couple of missions it would get easier watching him fight, but somehow (when you weren’t fearing for his life) you found yourself getting all flustered whenever you watched him flip one of the bad guys over his shoulder, or he’d do a spinning kick and knocking them on their asses. He was impressive and he always left you breathless.

“Wooooo!” Joaquin crowed as he pumped his fists in the air in triumph. “Did anybody see that!?” he cried out. You watched his POV through the second monitor as he looked around him for anybody, the man desperate for an audience, but as always, it was just you.

“I did. I’m always watching,” you said through the comm link, but somehow, the way his head hung low, told you that he didn’t think your presence counted.

“Thanks Fearn,” he muttered to himself as he began to trek back up the dirt path at the back of the property.

It wasn’t the first sign he’d given you that he didn’t think you were a real person but you still weren’t completely sure he wasn’t either, especially on the times you flirted and held longer conversation with one another.

“Would you like me to send the footage to Cap?” you asked him in a teasing tone, hoping the more human like teasing interaction would reassure him of your actual presence in the world.

He froze. “No, no, no.” he quickly said and you could feel his cheeks growing pink even though you couldn’t see them.

“But you said you wanted someone else to see.” you replied.

“Yeah, I did, but like in the moment,” he replied. “I feel like sending him a video of me kicking some dude’s ass is bragging and he just won’t think I’m cool.”

“I think you’re cool.” you replied through the com link.

“Thanks Fearn,” he replied. But once again his voice sounded a little dejected.

“That’s alright, Joaquin.”

You watched as he began to recheck over some of the modifications on the arms of the suit as he walked, you flying the drone at his shoulder as he made his way back towards the warehouse where Cap and a crew of military personnel were waiting for his return.

“Umm, Fearn, you can go to sleep now.” Joaquin instructed, his voice still a little dejected as he approached them.

You didn’t want to shut down. He was clearly going through something and you wanted to make sure he was okay, but it was your job to follow orders so you reluctantly docked the drone on the back of his suit and shut it down, ready for the next time he had use of you.

You waited a few more minutes just to be sure the mission was officially over and you weren’t needed, before you finally logged off, knowing you’d be able to take a longer break for a while. You looked at the time. 3:30pm. Time for a coffee and sweet treat reward. But as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys and tote bag and headed out the door to pop to your local coffee shop, your mind was still focused on Joaquin.

It gnawed at the pit of your stomach all the way to the coffee shop and back. You tried to push it to one side and enjoy the slice of banana bread you had bought as your treat whilst watching a couple episodes of your favourite tv show of the moment, but still your mind kept wandering to him. You just wanted to know he was okay. But other than Fearn you had no idea how else to contact him.

“Hey, Fearn?” his voice suddenly called out into your appartment and you raced over to your computer to activate the drone. When the video feed kicked in, you realised he wasn’t in his suit. In fact he didn’t look to be on a mission at all. Was this… where he lived?

“Fearn?” he said again and although it wasn’t your real name, the way he said it made you ache for him.

“Yes, Joaquin? How can I be of assistance to you?”

There was a pause as he leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he thought.

“You said you could send the footage of me fighting earlier to Cap. Umm, do you keep all the footage from my missions?” he asked.

“Yes. All your missions are recorded for training and security purposes.” you replied.

“Can you access them and play them back for me?” he asked nervously, his hands rubbing together to alleviate some of his tension, as he struggled to keep eye contact with the drone.

You woke up your second monitor and began pulling up files and video footage ready. “Which mission would you like to see first?” you asked.

“Ummm,” he mumbled as he thought for a moment. “Can you bring up the footage from that rooftop fight last week?” he asked.

You began flicking through the folders on your screen finding the mission he was asking about and opening up the video footage. “Is there a particular moment you would like to revisit?” you asked.

He rubbed his hand bashfully through his hair before scratching at the back of his neck. “Can I rewatch the bit where I swooped in and kicked the guy off the top of the roof?” he asked.

You smiled, remembering the moment well. You fast forwarded through the video footage on your screen until you found it. You then manoeuvred FEARN so you could project the video onto his blank wall behind his bed.

“Wow,” he sighed as you activated the footage, the moment playing out for him again, just how he had seen it the first time from his suits point of view.

You rewatched with him as he swooped in and knocked the guy over the edge of the building as he landed seamlessly on the edge looking down. You silently counted down with the version of him in the recorded memory as the guy inched closer and closer to the ground, his screams of panic calling back up to him. When he got to one he stepped off the roof himself and began to free fall after him, the jet on the back of his suit kicking in to propel him forward faster so he could catch up with the man.

He caught him just before he was able to hit the concrete, the man literally pissing himself as Joaquin shot him back up again to the top of the roof and dumping him down. The man rolled across the gravel at the top as he landed.

“Joaquin?” You found yourself asking. He turned his attention back towards the drone to let you know he was listening. “What does it feel like?” you asked him. “To fly like that?”

You turned the sound down on the video, the rest of the fight just becoming background noise as Joaquin answered you. “Like the most thrilling adrenaline rush you’ll ever get.” he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he thought on it. “It’s like getting to go on a rollercoaster every day, except there’s no track to follow and you get to make up the ride as you go along.” He paused a second before he continued. “Actually FEARN, can I tell you a secret.” he said, leaning into the drone as if it were a real person, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “It’s actually ruined rollercoasters for me.” You almost laughed at that. “I tried to go to six flags with my cousin a few months ago, but every ride I went on just felt boring. There just wasn’t any thrill in it anymore.”

“That sounds sad,” you replied, your heart breaking for him.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” he replied, his attention returning to the video on the wall. “Can you replay the footage from today?” he eventually asked?

“Of course,” you replied and that’s how you remained for the rest of the afternoon, rewatching his video footage and occasionally picking his brain until you were both ready to call it a day.

[heartbreakfeelsogood-moved]

coffee run | buddie | ~1k | for @bark-barkley ♡

It starts with an Instagram post.

Buck’s a sap, okay? His explore page is constantly filled with ‘send this to your best friend’ posts, and you know what? Nine out of ten times he does send them to his best friend, even if said best friend doesn’t see his dms for about a week. Point being: it’s not surprising to see a post stating, “morning, because if it was a good morning, my best friend would be in the same city as me and we'd be getting coffee together.” Beneath the text is a sketch of two people holding iced coffees. Buck does not pout as he reposts it to his story; that’s just his face.

What is surprising is when Eddie likes Buck’s story upload within minutes, because Eddie barely uses Instagram. He goes on once, maybe twice a week when he’s bored. Eddie just moved to Texas, though, and is quite literally in the process of unpacking, so how could he be bored? Yet here he is in Buck’s notifications. Not only that, but he reposts it to his story, too.

The pout that was definitely not on Buck’s face turns into a small smile as he sees that. Buck knows what it feels like to be left and ignored, but this is the first and only time Buck is experiencing someone leaving and openly missing him. Buck misses Eddie like a lung, but that feels okay, because Eddie misses Buck, too. It’s a lot for Buck to wrap his head around.

Buck closes Instagram and opens his recent call log. Underneath the names of Maddie and a guy from C shift who was asking for coverage is Eddie. Buck presses call.

“You bringing me a coffee?” Eddie greets.

Buck huffs out a laugh and responds, “Might be cold by the time I get there.”

Eddie laughs a little louder than necessary, but Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t like that. He loves how easily he can make Eddie laugh. Even when everything feels bad, Buck can say something that makes Eddie laugh, and when Eddie laughs it makes Buck feel like everything will be alright.

“I could use a coffee right now, man. I’m losing stamina. That’s why I’m on my phone instead of unpacking,” Eddie pauses, and Buck hears a box move. “Living room: throw blankets,” he reads off.

Maybe it’s because Buck’s a well-established sap; maybe it’s because Buck would do anything to hang out with Eddie right now, even if it’s eight-hundred miles apart over the phone; maybe it’s because Buck really wants an iced cookie dough latte with oat milk and mocha sauce; maybe it’s all of the above that makes Buck say, “Let’s go get coffee together.”

Eddie laughs, and Buck can practically hear his eye roll when he quips, “Yeah, sure, I’m on my way now.”

“No, I’m serious. Well— I don’t mean it like that. I— I mean you should go get a coffee, you deserve a break, and I’ll go get one too. We could stay on the phone.”

Now that Buck’s said it he’s worried he sounds juvenile. He imagines this is what kids Christopher’s age do with their online friends. (Christopher has rules, and he’s come to Eddie or Buck any time something weird happens, so they trust that he’s safe.) All the fear melts off of him when Eddie responds though.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice sounds soft, “we could do that.”

They both drive about twenty minutes to get to their respective coffee shops. Mindless chatter fills their cars through the speakers as they make their way. Eddie tells Buck about a chess tournament Christopher is going to be playing in, which gets Buck going about some videos he watched to better understand chess. He tells Eddie about the history, the different strategies, and various records set by players. Eddie listens intently, always happy to learn about both what Buck is learning about and his son’s interests.

They’re still on the phone as they make their way into the cafes, when they’re standing in line, and when they each approach the counter. Buck’s line is shorter, so he orders first. He steps to the side to wait for his latte and checks in with Eddie.

“You about to order?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m next. Hey—“ Eddie pauses. For a quick second, Buck wonders if he got called up. “This might seem stupid, but this place has similar flavors to the one we go to back h— in LA. And I really want that iced latte you get me. If I make this call a FaceTime, will you order it for me?”

Something flips inside Buck’s stomach. His lips part pointing upwards and he has to stop himself from tearing up over the fact Eddie wants him to order him a coffee from eight-hundred miles away. Good tears, to be clear; emotional, but filled with love.

“Yeah, of course, Eddie.”

Their timing is perfect, because not even thirty seconds after the FaceTime connects Eddie is being called up to the counter. Buck is turned towards the barista, who looks rather confused by the whole interaction, so Buck makes a joke about how he got Eddie hooked on a very specific latte and orders a cinnamon latte with soy milk and a quad shot.

They both sit in the back corners of their respected cafes with their phones propped up on napkin holders, FaceTime still connected. Eddie takes a sip of his latte and hums.

“Thank you for ordering this for me. Think it’s exactly what I needed.”

Buck’s smile as he responds is all teeth. “Any time. I’m glad to be of service.”

Eddie laughs at the way Buck salutes as he says that. He leans his head on his hand as he looks back at Buck fondly through his screen.

“God, I love y— Hanging out with you.”

If Buck notices his fumble, he doesn’t say anything except: “Yeah. You too.”

[smallidarityfan]

Theyre scheduling dates with joel guys this is a soap drama AHHSHGSSBS

[transcript]

Jimmy: I am also imagining Joel is gonna log on soon enough and die instantly—

Lizzie: Wait Joel is coming??? You want him to play Minecraft with you???

Jimmy: He's got access to come on, I just— I wish I could spend some quality time with him y'know?

Lizzie: Yeah me too! Me too man.

Jimmy: Yeah I think—

Lizzie: Watch out there's someone behind you tryna push you off a cliff

Jimmy: stop— right now

Sausage: I'M BACK I got kicked out!

Jimmy: That's alright— yeah lemme um lemme give him a message

Lizzie: Wait— Can I— How about you get him Thursdays, I'll do Tuesdays, Hermitcraft can have him... every other day of the week

Jimmy: Wait what— What day's their meeting?

Sausage: Are we talking about Joel?!

Lizzie: Yeah oh maybe Sausage could use a day too

Sausage: Oh can I have Joel too?! Can I have him on like a weird day like a Tuesday, on 4:30 in the afternoon or something...

Lizzie: Okay how about one of you gets him half of Tuesday; someone takes him on the Tuesday morning— But someone's gonna need to feed him as well...—

Jimmy: Uhh...

Sausage: Oh I'll feed him!

Lizzie: —He likes steak...

Jimmy: *laughs* he likes steak...

Sausage: You know what, I cooked a lovely Filet Mignon last night. He can have a piece

Jimmy: I don't know what that is... What is that?

Lizzie: You could probably have him 3 days he'd probably go willingly—

Jimmy: NO I'LL LEARN TO COOK FOR HIM I'LL LEARN!!!

Lizzie: *laughs* You'll learn?!

Sausage: You'll learn to cook a Filet Mignon?! You know what I do work a Sous Vide machine too!

Lizzie: OH MY GOD Stop talking Sausage you'll summon him!

Sausage: UHUH! All I have to say is Sous Vide... Medium Rare... Filet Mignon...

Lizzie: Oh you know just what to say! to steal my man!

Sausage: Hell yeah! Well I do butter basting as well, yup!

Jimmy: —I don't know what any of these words mean but annoyingly I know Joel would know? So that makes me angry...

Sausage: He would definitely know, I'm going to win all of Tuesday— Tuesday's mine, man

Jimmy: Oh gosh *laughs* "I'm gonna win all of Tuesday..."

Lizzie: Well as long as I still get to do his laundry then that's fine.

Sausage: Oh you do— I don't do laundry, you go ahead.

Lizzie: *laughs* "I don't do laundry"

(thank u for the correction i have never cooked a steak before if you couldn't tell LMAO 😭😭)

[arisewanekosuki]

Genshin Impact Self Aware – Your sadness  

They miss you. For past week you have been login into the game only to do commissions and changing Resin into Condensed one (or quickly doing domains or Ley Lines if you already had 5 of them). They hoped that with the new regions of Fontaine you will be playing more, you will take them to get chests, do puzzles, find Oculi and enjoy the scenery like always. But no, you didn’t even unlocked all the new waypoints, only two or three, so they couldn’t help but wonder "Are you getting tired of them?"

They tried to be patient but the more time passed the more they were feeling worried. Till that one day you logged and they could hear you talking to them like sometimes you did before. “Finally we can go check those new places, right?” The team you were using lately was happy, but they couldn’t do anything that would make you aware that they are conscious about you and this ‘world’, so they had to contain their smiles after hearing your voice.

And yet, the more you were looking around with them and fight the enemies the more silent you become again, till you stopped moving them at some point. They wondered if you left for moment to bring food or something to drink but then they heard it. Your muffled sobs “What happened? Why are you crying? Did you get hurt? ” those questions were swarming in their heads and they couldn’t do anything. Through your sobs they could hear “I can’t stop thinking about it” What are you thinking about? If only they could do something for you, comfort you, tell that everything will be alright. But they can’t. No matter how much they love you. They can’t do anything for you.

You took them to a safe place, mumbling that you didn't feel like playing anymore and logged off. They are alone again, knowing that you’re sad.

Maybe it’s really time to try bring you here, where they will be able to protect you and make you smile every day.

[a-hound-will-die-for-you]

Nightmares

Masterlist | img source

Summary: The Hound takes you with him as he flees King's Landing. Exhausted, he decides to stop at an inn along the road to rest. The man seems to hate you with every fiber of his being. Or at least, that’s what you think until you see him trapped in a terrible nightmare. Is he dreaming about his brother? Word count: 1350 Warning: lady f!reader x grumpy sandor clegane; nightmares; angst; fluff English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes I might make. Constructive feedback is welcomed, I am here to share and learn <3

The flame flickers and trembles as you bring your lips close and blow it out.

You've always liked the smell of hot wax. The hints of honey and resin remind you of the warm, homely nights in the Red Keep. The comfort of your chambers, the soft safety of your bedroom… A sad smile touches your lips as you think of how distant those luxuries feel now.

You blink a few times in the blackness before peering at the huge form sprawled across the bed. The man sleeps like a log, flat on his back with an arm draped over his forehead and his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress. Being so damn tall definitely has its drawbacks.

Barefoot, you tiptoe toward the bed and flinch when the wooden floor creaks beneath you. The woolen blanket smells of dust, and its texture feels rough against your delicate fingers. As you lift it, your eyes land on a white, rounded shape resting right next to the man's body. He has had the decency to place a pillow between you. A barrier, should you decide to lie beside him. "How thoughtful," you think wryly.

Everything seems like a cruel joke of fate.

You never thought the first time you’d ever spend a night alone with a man would be in some rundown inn, lost in the middle of nowhere. You never thought it would be with a man who curses your presence at every opportunity he gets. And above all, of all the men in Westeros, you never thought it would be… the Hound.

****

"Don’t even think about waking me unless it’s life or death," he had growled the moment you stepped into the room. "The road ahead is full of bastards worse than me. Murderers, thieves, rapists. If I don’t rest, I won’t be able to kill them. And if I don’t kill them, you’ll have to deal with them yourself. Trust me, girl, you don’t want that. So don’t piss me off,” he had said while undoing the buckles of his armor. You just nodded and watched him, squirming every time a plate fell to the floor.

The weeks before this had been a nightmare. Robberies, attempted kidnappings, ambushes, endless chases. The Hound hadn’t had a moment’s rest in days. You, however, survived on brief naps, stealing what little sleep you could by resting your head against his chestplate as you rode. He never complained about that. What he did complain about was your constant whining. Your grumbling about the lack of comfort and the pitiful lamenting of your voice over your sorry state as a fugitive. 

"Quit your sniveling," he said.

"Should’ve left you behind. Would’ve spared me a whole fucking lot of headaches."

"Damn the moment I ever decided to bring you along..."

Alright, you got it. The man hated you. And you despised him just as much, probably more. All you both wanted was to put this whole damn journey behind you, reach your destination -whatever it was- and never see each other again. But to make it there alive, he had to sleep, and that meant no interruptions…

****

You slide into bed, barely daring to breathe. The blanket beneath you is warm and softer than it looks, though the mattress seems like it’s been there since Aegon the Conqueror. You cling to the edge of the bed with your back turned to him, fighting the pull of gravity that threatens to roll you toward him. The rhythmic breathing of the Hound turns into a soft snore behind you. Without thinking, you press your back against the pillow that lies between you. Your tired eyes flutter shut, gradually drifting into a light stupor.

The broad, smooth back of a giant black stallion rocks beneath you, metal gauntlets holding you steady, preventing you from tumbling off…

A gruff, annoyed grunt rouses you from sleep. Did you wake him? You don’t dare to look. You shrink into yourself, trying to take up as little space as possible, careful not to bother him. There’s a moment of silence and you curl into the sheets, trying to drift off. But then you hear him again. A pained sound this time. Behind you, his massive frame shifts and writhes.

“N-no…” he mutters, breathing heavily.

Confused, you turn your head to look at him.

Cold sweat slicks his furrowed brow, and his face is contorted in a surly grimace, but his eyes remain closed. You let out a quiet breath of relief, happy to avoid his furious temper for waking him. But just as you start to settle back into your position, you notice his head jerking side to side, struggling on his pillow.

He’s having a nightmare. And judging by how desperately his body moves, a bad one.

“No,” he mumbles again, and you can’t help but feel sorry for him as you watch his Adam’s apple tremble with nervousness.

The Hound is a man haunted by his past. You’ve heard the stories about how his brother had shoved his head into a fire when they were kids, tales you can't quite tell if they are truth or mere legend. Gods know what horrible memories he’s fighting off…

For a moment, you consider waking him, wondering if it might be worth the sacrifice of your own peace for his well-being. But before you can do anything, his voice shatters in his throat.

“Get away from her!” he shouts in terror, fingers clawing at the sheets.

Your eyes go wide, and you sit up fully to face him. The Hound is awkwardly reaching for his left side, hand fumbling as if seeking the hilt of his sword. 

And then, he desperately calls out your name.

Your breath catches in your lungs. 

He is dreaming of you.

Dreaming of you in danger.

“You won’t have her, she’s with me!" he growls again, pleading for you to stay behind him.

You stand rigid, unsure of what to do, and then his body twitches violently with a broken, pained groan.

“No… let her go,” he mumbles pathetically, legs kicking as though trying to run. “Please… ”

He is begging. And you are witnessing it. You have to do something, and quickly.

Carefully, you push the pillow aside and slip your hand under his, settling it on his hip where his missing sword should be. His fingers entwine with yours in a grip so tight it hurts.

The gesture seems to calm him, but not enough. He keeps mumbling a string of words you can’t understand. You lean in a little closer, and your free hand hovers over his agitated chest for a moment before gently resting there. The rapid pounding of his heart thunders in the palm of your hand, and you press down, trying to ground him. The warmth of his linen tunic feels so different from the cold steel of his breastplate...

“Sandor, I’m safe, I’m here with you,” you whisper. It’s the first time you call him by his name. 

His scowl instantly relaxes, and his breathing begins to even out into steady, slow breaths. You stay there for several minutes, holding his chest and whispering softly until you feel his pulse thump more regularly beneath your hand. Then you slowly pull it from his chest and lie back in the bed, turning away from him and leaving the pillow barrier gone.

In his sleep, his hand searches for yours on his chest. When he doesn't find it, he rolls onto his side until his body is pressed against your back. His arms, strong as oak branches, wrap around your waist and fit your body against his, tucking the top of your head beneath his chin. Then his hands move to your belly and curl around invisible reins, caging you between his forearms and holding you tight, making sure you don’t slip from the saddle.

...............

Thanks for reading! <3

What do you think? A comment would give me life and encourage me to write more :)

[chrisevansonly]

Lando and poppy on stream plz

𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: lando wants to introduce his little flower to the world, what better way to do that then on stream..

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, very fluffy cute dad!lando

𝐚/𝐧: i love these two so much😭😭

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

Lando was giddy, like a kid in the candy store as he watched you carefully, leaning against the doorframe with 2 week old Poppy resting quietly in your arms. She was wearing the cutest little bear fuzzy onesie from Cisca, she looked so adorable.

“Alright chat, so today finally i’ve gotten permission from the missus to introduce you to little norris”

You could see the chat blowing up on his twitch, heart eyes and excitement filling his screen as he laughed

“Yeah yeah, you’re all lucky…first people to see my petal too”

“You should all be thanking me chat.” you spoke up coming closer to the double monitor set up

Smiling as you watched the chat fill with thank you’s and congratulations, Lando’s fans really were so sweet and you’d enjoyed keeping her a secret for the two weeks, enough to let Lando introduce his baby girl to the world.

“I’ll hand her over to her daddy and pull a chair up” you stated softly, placing Poppy into the waiting arms of her dad. Lando waiting for you to slide over in a second chair before smiling and letting the camera see a very curious Poppy

“Chat, this is Poppy Norris…Poppy this is chat”

Messages were pouring in from everyone on the stream:

user1: STOP IT SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE LANDO

user34: CONGRATS MAMA🩷

user8: the bear onesie!!!

user1677: I CANT BELIEVE LANDO IS A DAD😭

Messages pouring in from everywhere, a smile never leaving your face as you leaned over to press a kiss to Poppy’s head

“Thanks chat, she’s very special to us, we are so lucky”

Lando nodded, looking over at you, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes

“I’m definitely the luckiest man on the planet that’s for sure”

The two of you stayed talking on stream for a good forty minutes before Poppy’s face scrunched up and she let out a pitiful sounding whine, alerting Lando

“Oh okay…it’s okay my love..getting hungry?” he cooed softly, stroking her cheek, the stream going crazy at the soft moment between father and daughter

“Alright, i’ll take her to feed her, it is getting towards her lunch…but i’m sure you’ll all see Poppy and Lando more”

Lando nodded before holding her up for you to take, cries escaping her lips as soon as you walked out of the room, the sound of you shushing and humming still being picked up on the microphone.

“She’s my world..they both are…anyway chat, I’m going to head off and spend some more time with my girls…see you soon!”

He didn’t waste anytime logging off and making his way to find you, his heart happy after introducing his little flower to the world.

The flower he’d forever cherish and hold close for as long as he lived.