#and then she insists she’s trying to help me and so i told her ill fucking walk cause her yelling is the opposite of helpful

[joanofexys]

jfc i hate my mother

[thesecondhandwoman]

I’ll think of the jist

When reader is well enough to work for ambessa she uses a rollator (walker with like a table/seat) so she can carry multiple things at once that she couldn’t with a cane.

reader interrupts a meeting quietly to give Ambessa something, the room is full of big strong people who look down on sick ppl even if it’s genetic (:/)

They comment on her ability to work and ambessas like Nuh uh she fine brotha and Ambessa thinks nothing of it, reader thinks a lot of it and can’t sleep

lol thank you goodbye

MORE THAN ENOUGH

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Being Ambessa’s assistant and having chronic pain was difficult, but it was always worse when you tried to help on more manageable days only be to told that you are incapable.

Request: @possessedmagpie

A/N: This is part two of Chronically Ill

The soft light of morning slipped through the towering windows of Ambessa Medarda’s estate, a golden glow painting the cold stone walls. The days always started early in Noxus, the city that never slept, but for you, mornings weren’t a signal to begin. They were another checkpoint in the never-ending cycle of managing your body’s rebellion against itself.

You shifted beneath the thick covers, testing your limbs carefully. The ache that usually gripped you like iron shackles had ebbed to a low thrum today. It wasn’t gone, but it was manageable. Relief flickered in your chest, tempered by caution. You had learned long ago that even “good days” came with limits.

The other constant in your mornings lay beside you, Ambessa, her powerful frame still as she slept, her features softened in the pale light. Despite the countless demands on her time and energy, she always made space for you. She had stayed the night again, likely at your insistence, despite her busy schedule. She’d never admit it, but you suspected she worried about you constantly.

As if sensing your gaze, Ambessa stirred, her amber eyes blinking open. A small smile tugged at her lips as she caught you watching her.

“Good morning, little one,” she murmured, her voice low and warm, still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, voice hushed, as though speaking too loudly would break the delicate peace between you.

Her eyes searched your face, her brow furrowing slightly. “How are you feeling?” she asked, the question laden with genuine care.

You considered her words, stretching carefully to test the limits of your body. “Better,” you said after a moment. “Not great, but I think I can manage today.”

Ambessa propped herself up on one elbow, her expression skeptical but not dismissive. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I want to try. I can’t stand feeling useless, Ambessa.”

“You’re never useless,” she said firmly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Your value isn’t measured by how much you can do. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” you murmured, though the weight in your chest said otherwise.

Her hand lingered against your cheek, her touch both grounding and reassuring. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “But promise me you’ll be careful. No pushing yourself too hard. If you need to stop, you stop. Understood?”

“Understood,” you said softly, leaning into her palm.

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering just long enough to make your heart ache in the best way.

By mid-morning, the estate was bustling with activity. Servants and guards moved swiftly through the halls, their boots echoing against the polished stone floors. The sheer size of the estate could be overwhelming, even intimidating, but today you felt determined.

The rollator was your lifeline, its sturdy frame and built-in seat allowing you to navigate the estate without collapsing. It wasn’t a perfect solution—there were still moments when the pain flared unexpectedly, threatening to rob you of the strength to keep going—but it gave you a sense of independence.

Today, you carried an important correspondence marked with the crest of General Vessar. The message had arrived early, its contents urgent enough to require Ambessa’s immediate attention. Despite the challenges of moving through the estate, you were determined to deliver it personally.

The grand hall where Ambessa was meeting her advisors loomed ahead, the heavy double doors closed but not impenetrable. Pausing just outside, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the ache radiating through your legs.

The moment you entered, the room fell silent. The rollator’s wheels squeaked faintly as you moved across the polished floor, your presence a disruption in the midst of their intense discussions.

At the head of the long table, Ambessa sat tall and imposing, her amber eyes sharp and focused. The sight of her sent a pang of comfort through your chest; she was the one constant in a world that often felt too harsh to navigate.

“Ambessa,” you said, your voice soft but steady.

Her gaze snapped to you, her expression shifting immediately. The hard edge she wore in these meetings melted away, replaced by a warmth that seemed out of place amidst the cold, calculating figures around her.

“Little one,” she greeted, her voice low and tender.

You grabbed the sealed letter on the table of your rollator as you moved it a bit closer and held it out to her. “This arrived this morning. From General Vessar.”

She shifted in her chair slightly as she turned to face you, taking the letter from your hands with a subtle nod. Her fingers brushed yours briefly—a fleeting touch that carried more reassurance than words ever could.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft enough that only you could hear.

But the moment was short-lived.

“She’s still working for you?” a voice called from the far end of the table.

Your chest tightened.

The man who spoke leaned back in his chair, his tone dripping with disbelief. “How can someone in her condition handle the responsibilities you’ve given her?”

Another advisor chimed in, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “It does seem unwise. The demands of this role require someone—”

“Capable,” the first man interrupted. “Someone who isn’t constantly compromised.”

The words struck like a blade, each syllable carving into your carefully built armor.

Ambessa’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her movements deliberate and commanding.

“Enough,” she said, her voice sharp and unforgiving.

The room fell silent.

Ambessa’s gaze swept over the advisors like a storm about to break. Her presence was a force of nature, and for a moment, you pitied the fools who dared challenge her judgment.

“You will not question her competence,” she said, her tone cold enough to freeze fire. “Do any of you doubt my ability to judge who is fit for their role?”

No one dared respond.

“Let me make something very clear,” she continued, her voice like a blade. “Y/N has proven her worth time and time again. She is stronger and more useful than any of you could hope to be, and I will not tolerate such ignorance in my presence.”

Her words were a shield, protecting you from their scorn, but they couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, but the weight of their judgment was crushing.

Ambessa turned to you, her expression softening. “Go rest, little one,” she said gently.

You nodded, your throat too tight to form words. As you left the room, the rollator steady beneath your hands, you couldn’t shake the sting of their words.

Back in your quarters, the pain returned, not the physical ache in your joints, but the sharp, unrelenting sting of humiliation and self-doubt. You sank onto the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands.

The echoes of their voices replayed in your mind, each word a reminder of what you couldn’t do, of how the world saw you. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you gave, it was never enough.

You didn’t hear the door open, but you felt the mattress dip beside you. A familiar hand rested on your shoulder, warm and grounding.

“Little one,” Ambessa said softly.

You wiped at your eyes, turning away from her. “I’m fine,” you lied.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close until your head rested against her shoulder.

“They don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “They never will. But you don’t need their approval.”

“I just… I wanted to help,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I wanted to prove I could still do something right.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” she said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re more than enough. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

Her words wrapped around you like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of despair.

“I’m tired,” you admitted, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your chest. “I’m so tired, Ambessa.”

“I know,” she murmured, her voice full of quiet empathy. “But you don’t have to carry this alone. I’m here, I always will be.”

You whimpered a little, holding back tears as you sunk into her arms as she lied down on the bed with you, stroking the back of your head for comfort.

She stayed with you long into the night, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. When sleep finally came, it was with the comforting knowledge that no matter how heavy the world felt, Ambessa would always be there to share the burden.

A/N: I got a peace offering to write this, loving it.

[thezombieprostitute]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Johnny Storm + realizing his feelings for you are real and strong because you’re the first person he’s ever missed while you’re apart 🥺

A/N: This is my first time writing for Johnny Storm so please let me know if I did okay!

"Johnny, what the hell?!" Sue's voice rang from the shared kitchen.

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it" Johnny yelled from his room.

"You were the last person in the kitchen!"

"It still wasn't me!"

Sue storms to Johnny's room to find him in his bed, hugging a sweater you'd left behind a few visits ago. "You're really gonna lay there and try to convince me that you, the last person in the kitchen, after I cleaned it this morning, are not responsible for the half-assed attempt at baking I just walked in on?"

"Well excuse me for trying to do something nice for everyone," Johnny whines.

"What's gotten into you, Johnny? I swear I've never seen you like this."

From further down the hall they hear Ben, "lover boy just misses his girl is all."

"No, I don't," Johnny shouts back at him.

Ben snickers, "I can't see you but I know you're cuddling up with her shirt, ain't you?"

Johnny throws your sweater to the side before pouting, "NO!" Sue smiles fondly as Ben breaks out into a laugh.

At that moment the front door opens, "I'm home!" Richard calls out. Sue turns to greet him but is distracted by Johnny shoving her to the side to run to the door.

"Wait, where's Y/N," Johnny asks. "She was supposed to come back with you."

"Yeah," Reed confirmed. "She wanted to go home and get some rest."

"But..." Johnny can't think straight.

Reed continues, "I asked her if she wanted to come over but she told me, the last time you two went out, you said you wanted some space." Reed shrugs, "I guess she's just giving you what you want."

Johnny starts pouting and angrily grabs the keys to his motorcycle before storming out of the apartment.

Your apartment feels cold and quiet as you enter. You miss Johnny but you don't want to bother him, especially after he said he was feeling a little "smothered". You flinch at the memory.

"Ugh, one thing at a time," you tell yourself as you start putting your things away. It was a long trip and you feel exhausted. Maybe a shower and some sleep will cure your ills.

A shower certainly does help but you still find yourself feeling lonely. Maybe Johnny was on to something. Maybe you do spend too much time with him and not enough alone. You put on some pajamas, order delivery from your favorite pizza place, and settle in on the couch for some alone time.

Too soon to be the pizza, you hear an insistent knock at the door. Confused you head over and look through the peephole. It's Johnny! As soon as the door is open he's pulling you into a deep kiss, complete with a warm hug.

"I'm so sorry," he says when he pulls away. "I'm so sorry I said I need space. I don't need space, I need my head examined. I missed you so much. So much more than I've ever missed anyone. I'm sorry I tried to push you away."

You gently rub his cheek while giving him some reassuring coos. Neither of you realized the door was still open until the pizza arrived. The two of you settled on the couch to eat. You thought to sit on the opposite side but Johnny pulled you close, until you were practically sitting on his lap.

"I need you to know," he whispers after finishing a slice, "why I said what I said." You turn to face him, making sure he knows he has your attention. "I've...I've never been one for things like long-term relationships. No one who knows me thinks I'm even capable of anything more than just...casual hookups or convenience relationships, like you and I have."

You nod your understanding and he continues, "I was trying to keep that reputation when I told you we were spending too much time together. But this last week, without you being around at all? Fuck, I, I have to admit, I'm in love with you."

His confession leaves you wide-eyed, "you really mean that?"

"Yes," he replies with a look you've dubbed his "serious face".

"I accept your apology, and your confession," you hum. "But you owe me."

"Name your price, Fire Lily," he breathes.

"You have to give me back the sweater your keep in your room."

Updating to make sure tags are included:

@alicedopey

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, how’d you get in?” Peter rushes in, a tray of drinks in hand. 

You pop up on the stool, broken from your trance. Uncertain what else to do, you spent much of your time trying to distract yourself with his schematics. You twist to face him. 

“Um, Bucky,” you answer and cringe at home dumb you sound. “He helped.” 

“Bucky? Helpful?” He nears and puts the cardboard tray on the table, “I guess he can be.” He picks at the edge of the tray, “I got you a blueberry matcha. The place I hit didn’t have strawberry in season anymore.” 

“Oh, sounds... interesting, but you--” 

“Didn’t have to. I know, you always say so but I felt bad for being so late. I told may to get an airtag for her wallet. She can be so--” he stops himself and chuckles. “It’s whatever. She’s got a lot going on.” 

“Mhm,” you accept the cup he offers. “I was just looking over the plans. I think we could probably just go with yours. Makes more sense.” 

“What? Oh, no way,” he takes his iced whatever. It just looks like layers of sugar and cream. “I think we could easily bring together both. Take some of your features and mine. I don’t want to take over.” 

“Yeah, but...” 

“But nothing. Really. It’s a team project, not my project,” he insists as he hops up on the stool next to you, “so,” he swipes his hand in the air and a holographic screen appears. You flinch. “Let’s compare and redraw.” 

You gape as another floating rectangle appears before him. No wonder his look so much better than your Paint hack job. You want to sink down and disappear. You always figured you’re not interesting enough to be his friend but now you’re certain you might be too stupid and poor for him too. 

“So, I’m going to get logged in...” he mutters. 

“Um, Peter?” You murmur, “are you sure you wanna be my partner?” 

“Why... wouldn’t I?” He hovers his hand before the screen as he looks at you. 

“I dunno. I don’t... I don’t have much to offer. Not a lab, not all these cool computers...” 

“Oh this? No, it’s not—it's not a big deal. Dude, I'm so lucky Mr. Stark is letting me use this. I’m not ignorant, you know? I just thought it would be easier. I don’t think your roommates like me much and mine are so loud.” he explains as he lowers his arm, crossing both over the table as he leans on it. “Do you not want to be my partner?” 

“Nnnooo,” you drag the word out. “No, I do, but I want to contribute to and I don’t know how to use any of this.” 

“That’s cool. I’ll show you.” 

“Um, okay,” you nibble your lip sheepishly. “I guess...” 

“Did you try the tea? Is it good?” He changes the subject. He does that a lot. Pivots around before you can finish your thoughts. 

“Not yet,” you look down at the bright pink lid, “where did you get this?” 

“Some place called Berry? I don’t know. Everything was bright. You’d hate it,” he laughs again. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers as you blow into the lid cautiously. “Before I forget, I’m having a party. I know it’s not really your thing but it’s ‘my turn’,” he makes quotations with his fingers, “and I don’t really wanna but I also thought I'd invite you in case you wanted to not be there with me, too.” 

Your blink in surprise, “a party?” 

“I know, too much. Well, I didn’t wanna leave you out.” 

“Mmm,” you drone nervously. It is really nice of him to think of you and after everything else, you hate to say no. “No one ever invited me to a party.” 

“No?” His brow furrows, “really?” 

You shake your head, “I’ll come. Yeah. I’ll try. You know, it’s college and ...” you take a sip and clear your throat, “should I bring a dessert?” 

He laughs and gives you a playful grudge, “wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that except my aunt’s friends. Nope, you can just come as you are. You can always bring some drinks for yourself but I’ll have more than enough to share.” 

“Oh, okay,” you nod. 

“The tea good?” He asks again. 

“Yeah, sweet,” you put the cup down. 

“Awesome!” He grins. “I really didn’t think you’d come. I’m so excited.” 

“Really?” You ask. 

“Well, duh. You’re so fucking cool. Like all my other friends, they try so hard. It’s all ‘let’s go do shots’ or ‘watch me do this dumb shit’. You don’t even try, you’re just you. It’s like people don’t realize they can just be nice and be cool for just that.” 

“I... yeah,” you don’t know what to say.  

It’s like he’s calling you boring but not. You know you are and you don’t mind but you can’t ever remember when you just felt like everyone else. Where you weren’t the odd one out. Despite trying to include you, Peter still manages to push you to the edges. 

You wince as you notice how he stares at you. You fidget and pick at the button on the front of your corduroy skirt. His eyes flick down to the nervous movement. 

“I like that,” he reaches to touch the ridged fabric, “blue. Oh, thick.” 

Your leg twitches in surprise, “uh, yeah... found it at the student thrift shop.” 

“Really?” His fingers brush over the hem and touch your coloured tights. They linger for a moment before he pulls away. “Cute. I’ve never been there.” 

“It’s not bad...” you cross your legs as you knee tingles from his touch. That was strange. 

“Well, anyway,” he waggles his fingers as he turns back to the table, “uh, where was I?” He squints at the screens and taps in the air. He pauses and looks at you. “Here, I’ll show you how it work, alright?”  

He reaches over again and you brace yourself. He grabs the underside of the stool seat and drags you closer. He it so easily, you gasp. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. He slides his hand around so his arm is diagonal around your back. 

“Right, so...” his shoulder presses to you as he points with his other arm, “you can just use your finger. I’ll have to add your prints to the program. Put your hands up.” 

You obey as he stays close. You’re overly away of it. The way he’s pressed to you. He doesn’t seem to notice at all. You try not to think of it and focus on his instructions. The project. That’s why you’re here. 

[s-brant]

Stay

With his pregnant wife with ordered to rest by the maesters until her labors begin, Aemond must find new ways of entertaining her.

4k (18+)

Warnings: smut, targcest, p in v, hair-pulling, come swallowing, strong language, and pregnancy. this can be read as a stand alone or part three to Judas.

-

Pregnancy has coaxed out a new side of Aemond.

Of course, he had always been protective and caring, even when he was trying to stifle his feelings for her in the first few months of their union, but once she was with child, it intensified. From having the handmaidens tend to her every minute of every day to insisting upon following her around as though he is one of the royal guards assigned to protect her. It is always toned down in the presence of others due to his general discomfort with public displays of affection, but everyone noticed his constant proximity to her whenever he wasn't attending to his duties as a prince.

"You needn't breathe down my neck, I am quite capable of doing this myself," she said when he had once insisted upon helping her bathe once she got into the late stages of her pregnancy.

Truth be told, she did appreciate his incessant caregiving, but when caregiving shifted into being treated as though she was weak, that positive mindset soured slightly. Still, she rolled her eyes and allowed him to help her into the sunken tub filled with steaming hot water and bathing oil that gave off an aromatic lavender scent. He could tell that underneath it all, there was a part of her that enjoyed being looked after. A part of her that reveled in the protective nature he allowed to take control once her belly began to swell noticeably with his child.

The maesters suspect she will go into labor at any moment and insisted upon her getting bed rest during the day in preparation for it. So, that is what she has been doing all day long, and it threatens to drive her mad.

"Truly, how much more needlework and reading can I do? I have read nearly every book in the library at this point. Can you not escort me to the Dragonpit to visit Vermithor?" Y/N asks Aemond from where she lays back against the headboard with a hand cradling her round belly.

Clad in nothing but her shift to keep herself from sweating in the summer heat, she is left with nothing to do, and in her ill-tempered mood, she has resorted to begging her husband for his assistance. Unfortunately for her, Aemond is equally as cautious regarding her condition as the maesters. The very last thing he would do is encourage her to exert herself with a trip to the Dragonpit.

He offers her a stern look as he dresses for the day in the morning light that shines on his half-nude figure. The eyepatch he wears in the presence of everyone else sits on the table behind him, allowing her to admire how the sapphire eye glitters in the sun. While he cuts her a commanding stare, she trails her eyes down the length of him. The shade of his skin is strikingly pale against the warm colors decorating their shared chambers, only shadowed in the areas where skin dips into muscles to emphasize the strong lines of his abdomen. And, of course, he notices the hunger that is present in her gaze but says nothing about it.

"I cannot escort you anywhere outside these rooms, ābrazȳrys." Wife. "Tis my babe inside of you. If the maesters order you to rest, your duty commands you to listen."

He doesn't miss how her eyes follow the movement of his hands as they button his trousers. Filthy little thing, she is. His suspicions are confirmed by the smirk she gives him when she next speaks.

"Perhaps you could distract me some other way?" She hooks a finger around the hem of her shift to lift it slowly up her thighs. A muscle in his jaw tightens at the sight of her baring herself to him without anything to protect her modesty. "You know, I heard the strangest thing from Nyla"—one of their handmaidens—"a day ago. She said that a healer she once met told her that coupling with one's husband can induce childbirth."

Aemond stares at her with predatory intent, as though he's considering it for a moment, then shakes his head. Although they have pleasured one another in other ways, they have not had sex since her bump began showing. It was already scandalous for them to continue their marital duties after the pregnancy was confirmed, to do so when she's heavily pregnant would be even worse.

"We have been through this," he says. "It is not proper."

She does not miss a beat.

"Says who?"

Neither does he.

"The maesters, along with every other upstanding person of noble birth such as ourselves." He pauses, then says before she gets the chance to, "Aegon excluded."

A wry laugh escapes his dear wife at this, and she can't help how the beautiful sound is cut short by the feeling of the babe kicking her palm. Those pretty eyes go wide as she reaches out with her other hand in an invitation for him to come to her. Based upon the panic that flashes across his face, though, he must mistake her excitement for fear. A fraction of a second later, he's already at her side before she can hear the heavy footfalls on the floor.

"What is it?" he asks, throat constricted with terror.

She smiles at him. It's a lovely, placating type of smile, and it washes away every worry present in his head when he sees it. Wordlessly, she takes his hand, calluses and rough from sword fighting, in hers and places it on the top of her bump where the movement can be felt.

"Feel," she whispers.

Her fingers mold overtop of his to keep his flattened palm pressed down on her. Beneath both the linen fabric of her shift and her warm skin he feels it.

"He must be coming soon. He's in the right position for birthing."

Then, her head tilts back to allow her to look up at him in on. It's unfathomable to her— the fact that a child is dwelling within. Not only a child but their child. She can't help but wonder what they will look like or which one of them they will favor. It's all too easy to picture what she may see as soon as a few days or weeks from now. Aemond, half-dressed as he is now, with their newly-born son resting against his chest as they lay together in the quiet of their rooms. The babe will look so small, so fragile and new, when cradled against his Kepa's larger body. And when she pictures that, she feels complete in a way she never has before.

It seems that he is having similar feelings when his eyes light up at her hopeful declaration. What she doesn't know is that he is imagining the very same thing, yet reversed. His mind conjures the image of their days-old daughter suckling at her breast, making soft coping noises throughout. Although he has never known himself to be the tender-hearted type, that thought warms him to the bone.

He rubs the spot where the babe kicked as though to soothe it in the only way they'll understand at this point in their development. No spoken words or language yet, just the communication of touch. The same instinctual form of communication animals use to soothe their children. The touch is firm yet soothing. Constant in a way that one's father should always be yet rarely ever is. It says, "Kepa is here. Don't fret. We will meet you soon."

"She," he starts, meeting her gaze with a stoic face, "will come tomorrow. Helaena told me so when we dined with mother last night."

Her eyes narrow.

"Helaena, I believe. However, you, dearest, are not a dreamer. You cannot know the babe is a girl. I, on the other hand, can sense it. We will have a male heir. One whose birthright will never be disputed as mine has been."

The part about wanting a male heir out of fear for their claim to the throne being challenged causes his mouth to shift into an imperceptible frown. Most people do not know how to read those changes in his expression, but she can. Since her pregnancy began, she has become well-versed in his non-verbal cues. For now, he bypassed the worry she so vulnerably laid before him. That is a matter they can discuss later.

He asks, head tilting slightly in curiosity, "You can sense it?"

"Yes, of course," she says and weaves her fingers into his to hold his hand. "There is such a thing as motherly intuition."

To this, he hums quietly, and it's such a distinctly him thing to do that she finds herself fighting a smile.

"If motherly intuition does, in fact, exist, why would my intuition as her father be any less accurate?"

She stifles a laugh at this, easily recognizing from his tone that he is merely teasing her. Something he never once pictured himself doing with his eventual wife. A marriage of duty was what he anticipated, yet this is far from it. He realizes right now that he would do anything for her. He would die for her if it came to that, but not just because their wedding vows brought her under his protection and Daemon would hunt him to the ends of the earth should anything happen to her. It's because he cares.

Y/N cups the bottom of his chin in her free hand and forces him a bit closer to say, "Because I am your very pregnant, very ill-tempered wife, and I said so. If you dare to question my authority, I may be inclined to use your knife on you again." There's a pause. "Also, while I have your obedience, I would like to dine with the family tonight one last time before our son arrives."

Although they both know they are jesting, Aemond's eye darkens the second she calls him obedient.

"If you were not carrying my daughter, I would bend you over my knee for that."

It's wholly true, and she knows that. He did it once before but knew the whole time she was simply allowing it to occur as a result of her own sexual gratification. He knew that if she wanted, she would break free and have him fleeing her wrath on Dragonback.

She smirks and pulls him closer until their lips nearly brush.

"Don't say those things if you are refusing to fuck me. It is cruel," she whispers. "It arouses me, and you know I cannot satisfy myself the way you can."

His body goes still in the wake of her brazen confession.

Knowing she has him right where she wants him, she decides to hammer the idea home. The strap of her shift has "accidentally" fallen from her shoulder as she kisses him just long enough to entice but not satisfy.

"Lest you've forgotten, the maesters told me to wait five weeks after the birth to allow myself to heal before taking you to bed again." The tremble in his exhale brings a triumphant gleam to her eyes, and she pulls her mouth back out of reach to tease him as he leans in to kiss her. "It would be a pity to waste such precious time, would it not?"

Their lips brush, and the hand that holds his chin breaks away to palm at his half-hard cock through his trousers. It swells eagerly beneath her touch after ages of restraint and self-pleasure, growing harder by the second until he is fully, painfully needing her.

"Come," she says and spreads her legs in invitation. "What the maesters tell you is largely myth and outdated theories. The babe will remain unharmed."

At last, the patience of her devoted husband runs thin, and he is unable to stop himself from kissing her with an unashamed lust that indicates she will be getting what she wants. The suspicion is proven true when he kneels on the mattress between her legs to crawl onto her without breaking the passionate, open-mouthed kiss shared between them. But before he can try to settle his weight atop her and prevent her from reaching for his trousers, she finds the waistband with fumbling hands. This halts him for just the right amount of time—long enough for her to undo the button and push the clothing, along with his small clothes, down his slender hips.

The disappointment he feels at her refusal to allow him to bury his fingers or head between her thighs in hopes that she will be satisfied without penetration is visible on his face. Yet he says nothing. In truth, he cannot do anything to stop this. If he truly did not wish to fuck her, it would be easy to deny her. The issue at hand is that he does wish to, and now that his cock is being pumped in her hand as he stares down at her pleading eyes, it no longer matters to him what is proper or not.

It's when she starts to guide him to her sweet cunt that he realizes that she would have had the chance to thwart his sabotaging efforts no matter how quickly she pulled his trousers down. What halts them in their tracks is the protruding belly, larger than it was the last time he took her to bed, preventing him from laying comfortably against her.

This would be the perfect opportunity for him to redirect himself back to his original intentions, but, instead, he says, "Turn over."

Her cheeks burn hot at this, at the sheer commanding nature of his words, before she obliges him. She turns over cautiously to avoid falling on her stomach and settles into a semi-comfortable position on her hands and knees, back arched just so to present herself to him. Though she cannot see it, he smiles.

His voice is soft yet stern when he next speaks.

"Down onto your arms," he says. "It will feel better that way."

She stares daggers at him over her shoulder and asks, half jesting, half jealous, "We have never done it this way, so how would you know, husband?"

Aemond rolls his eye at her dramatics.

"You already know, now do as I command."

He isn't wrong. They've been quite honest with one another about their past transgressions with members of the opposite sex, although hers was little more than a shy peck on the cheek while his were, well...Aegon took him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day, that much she knew before they were wed due to her eldest uncle's loose lips, but what no one else knows, save for her, is that he had a few lovers. Likely a result of the time he was taken to a brothel, he never sought his pleasure out with whores.

It began accidentally. He didn't intend to fuck a widowed lady in court, but it happened, and he was glad it was her. From then on, he followed the rules unintentionally set by his first time after the brothel. The first rule, of course, was to never lie with a maiden to prevent ruining her reputation and being forced to marry below his station as consequence.

The second was to never go back to the same woman more than a few times. This kept his time with them to a minimum and prevented any of his lovers from forming delusional attachments. Another rule was to never kiss them, and, the last, most important one was to never finish inside them. Though she was overwhelmed with jealousy upon first starting this conversation with him, his explanation for the last rule did well to soothe her.

It did not matter whether he chose to fuck whores in brothels or older women of noble birth, no one but his wife deserves the seed of a dragon prince. He would not dishonor her by fathering a bastard, he explained. Not like his brother did many times to poor, sweet Helaena.

So, she does already know that his skill at pleasing her comes from his experiences with the older women who now have husbands again, who sometimes try to meet his gaze as they pass to no avail. Still, it doesn't make her less jealous, nor does it make teasing him any less fun.

Y/N hardly has the time to shift her weight down onto her forearms before he nudges his cock into her with his hands gripping her full hips until his knuckles turn white.

"Aemond!" she cries out in surprise at the sudden intrusion, but it soon gives way to a soft giggle. Her explanation comes seconds later, once she has regained her composure. "I will hear no complaints of me forcing myself on you later. You are just as responsible."

The first few motions of his hips pushing in and away from her are tentative, holding back when his fingers brush her belly to remind him of her condition. In spite of his guilt for doing this, it feels too good to stop after months of nothing but his hand and, sometimes, her mouth when he wakes to the sensation of her sucking him deep into her throat. That is good, always, but this is incomparable, and it has been so long that he almost forgot. But, it's impossible to forget now. Not when he feels her rocking her hips back against him, meeting his thrusts at a pace that encourages him to keep up.

The pillow is soft on her cheek where it sinks into it with one of her hands gripping the corner for dear life. Soft noises leave her without realization as Aemond finally lets go of his reservations and surrenders to the primitive instinct that tells him to fuck her. He cannot wholly allow his instinct to take over, however. If he did, he'd get far rougher than he's comfortable being with her in this condition. It's a constant battle to keep himself from unleashing the full extent of his lust, ages in the making, on her the way they both enjoy.

Although he's holding back, she reacts with an enthusiasm often reserved for nights when he brings her to release over and over again. Anyone else would think she is exaggerating, but he knows her well. He knows that all this time they've abstained has made her ravenous, and from the times he has brought himself to his peak alongside her with her fingers trapped between her thighs, he knows pregnancy has made her a touch more sensitive.

He lets one hand leave her hip to clasp over her mouth and muffle the lovely little gasps and moans. His cock plunged into her harder as if in punishment for being too loud, hitting a spot that makes her squeeze her walls around him and whine into the hand over her mouth. His other hand uses its hold on her hip to tug her back to meet him stroke for stroke, quickly forgetting his internal promise to be gentle. It isn't nearly as intense as usual, but she can sense it. She can sense that he's starting to give himself over to the pleasure and allow himself to enjoy it.

"Quiet," he snaps and presses his palm harder against her lips to force them shut. His words seem to have the opposite of the intended effect, if the way she cries out has anything to show for it. "If the servants hear and gossip about me defiling you like this, Aegon will never stop talking about it."

The hand over her mouth leaves for an instant to reach for the belt looped into his undone trousers. Her body jolts with every hard thrust, and she cannot help how she moans now that her mouth is uncovered.

She yelps in surprise when he pushes the leather between her teeth and says, "Bite on this."

There's nothing else for her to do but listen.

It does a satisfactory job at keeping the sounds confined to their chambers. Not as well as his hand, but it will have to work. It allows him to hear her and revel in every sound without worrying too deeply about servants overhearing. If anything, he is the one who now risks getting them caught with how he groans and sighs with every smooth, wet drag of his cock inside of her.

The physical sensation is so overwhelming and euphoric, it almost feels torturous to him. Knowing that he cannot live in this moment forever is the cruelest form of torment he's endured, even above Lucerys blinding him and Aegon encouraging his nephews to bully him for lacking something they were all born with the privilege of having.

They made him feel inadequate, small, and he cannot deny the truth in what she said to him once before, in the midst of their coupling, regarding him deriving a sick pleasure from having stolen their sister away and making her his own. Fucking her full of heirs and taking solace in the fact that it is his blood, not the blood of the Strong bastards, that will continue their family's great dynasty. It's invigorating. Vindicating, even.

The muffled sounds of her moaning as he watches her, transfixed by the urge to wrap his hand up in the curtain of white silver running down her back like a flash of shooting starlight, brings him so close, he can almost feel it. His eye squeezes shut to allow him to focus on preventing himself from coming before she can, and it's only when he feels he's regained control over himself that he warns her.

"I won't last much longer," he says, breathless.

She knows that the words in and of themselves are an apology, so she shakes her head and murmurs, too far gone at this point, "Don't care."

There's a groan from behind her, then a harsh snapping of his hips against her ass as he says, "I do."

The feeling of the rough pads of his fingertips rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs has her writhing under him. She's grasping onto the pillow with one hand and braces the other on the headboard to keep her head from hitting it with the force of how he fucks her. Teeth biting down on leather, she cannot do much else than take it. She cannot call his name or warn him of her imminent climax, but she does not need to. By now, he knows when she's close to her peak by the feeling of her cunt spasming around him.

It's an addictive feeling. So much so that he doesn't quite enjoy his peak if it doesn't involve feeling, hearing, and witnessing hers first. It never fails to drag him under.

Another brush of his fingers against her, along with a well-aimed thrust, is all it takes to send her careening over the edge.

Her jaws goes slack and allows the belt to fall onto the pillow as she cries out for him at the intense crest of the wave that overtakes her. It's a mumbling, incoherent mixture of expletives, as well as his name, that pushes him closer to his satisfaction to hear it. To think that the beautiful creature beneath him, rendered useless in his hold and swollen with his child, is solely his and his alone is a fact he can hardly comprehend. All he can think as he chases his release is that he loves her. They have yet to say it, but he feels it. It's the kind of love that starts wars and ruins lives, and that is the most startling revelation he's ever had.

It takes little time—seconds, actually—for Aemond to succumb to the near-explosive feeling he has tried to stave off for the sake of satisfying his wife first. He is careful enough, even in the blissful reverie of climax, to not let his weight go on top of her and risk making her uncomfortable. Or injuring her or the babe in any way. Although exhausted from the relentless exertion, his body finds a way to hold itself up after he collapses onto her back and continues to rut into her as he fills her sensitive cunt with his seed until there's nothing left to give.

His softening cock slips out of her after he's taken the better part of a moment to come back down from the heavens she sent him to, and Y/N whines at the sudden emptiness. It isn't uncommon for him to remain inside of her long after they've finished sometimes. The first time it occurred, it was a result of mutual exhaustion, but the next time, it was a conscious choice.

His chest rises and falls rapidly with his panting breaths as his eye flutters shut for a second as though to take the time to burn the image of her now into the back of his mind. When he opens it again and moves back to see his come leaking from her hole, he has to keep himself from flipping her onto her back and kissing her sweet cunt until she's licked clean and lacks any evidence of the sin he committed today. But, he can't. He was already meant to be meeting Criston in the training yard, and nothing would be worse than the knight searching for Aemond only to find out he's been locked away in his chambers with his wife.

To pacify himself, he swipes his middle and forefinger between her slick folds to gather some of the dripping fluid on them. His other hand wraps itself up in her hair as he wanted it to moments ago to gently pull her head up from being buried in the pillow. Her head turns to the side only enough to allow him to see the side of her face, and he doesn't need to say anything to get her to open her mouth for him. All he does is bring it to her lips as he waits for her to obey his wordless command, wrapping her lips around his fingers and moaning at the salty taste on her tongue before swallowing it all.

When he watches this, he can't stop thinking to himself that he's lucky. Not only does he have a rare jewel of a woman as his wife and future Queen, but he also has a wanton whore who is quick to comply with his every wish and begs him to fuck her even when she is far along with child. Desperate for him and him alone.

"Mmm," he hums in approval at how she sucks his fingers clean and loosens his grip on her hair until it falls loose around her shoulders again. The hand that held back her hair slides down her back and rubs in soothing strokes up and down the length of her spine. The next words are barely a push of air, spoken so quietly that no one else in the world could overhear. "Sȳz riña." Good girl.

With his fingers falling from her lips, she sinks back down into the bed and rolls onto her back to allow herself the pleasure of looking at her husband. The adoration visible in her gaze never fails to catch him off guard. No one ever looks at him like that. With such fondness. Not even his own parents or siblings.

"Umbagon lēda nyke tubī, ñuha jorrāelagon?" Stay with me today, my love? "Jikagon udir naejot Criston bona iksan tolī va naejot ñuha sikagon syt ao naejot henujagon ñuha paktot. Umbagon kesīr, sagon iā sȳz valzȳrys, se qogralbar aōha ābrazȳrys ēva se tubis iksis toliot." Send word to Criston that I am too near to my labors for you to leave my side. Stay here, be a good husband, and fuck your wife until the day is gone. Her bold request draws a scoff from him. A second passes, then she says softly in the common tongue, "You have been quite protective of me as of late. I am sure people will not think anything of it."

There's a second of contemplation during which he weighs the costs and benefits. On one hand, he does need to train and maintain appearances in court. On the other...Well, he would very much like to spend the day in bed with her, testing out the theory the handmaiden presented to her about sexual activity inducing childbirth.

Screw Criston, he thinks.

"Sagon careful skoros ao epagon yno. Kostā jiōragon ziry," Aemond says to give her one last chance to rescind the offer. Be careful what you ask of me. You may get it.

Her expression turns stony as she asks, looking up at him through her lashes like she once did as a demure little cocktease of a newlywed, "Ao kivigon?" You swear?

And in the midst of the night, after a day of laying together—reading, fucking, talking, and giggling like little kids—they discover the theory regarding sex and childbirth to be true, and it's in the late hours of the morning that their little dragon finally decides to greet them in the form of a wailing infant girl.

-

Tag list: @m-indkiller, @tinykryptonitewerewolf, @hopebaker, @bcon24, @eleganttravelercloud, @aemond-targaryenx, @the-blue-banshee, @saramayu, @merakiaes, @its-sam-allgood, @grungegrrrl, @singitoutgirl26, @scarlettmoon98, @cicaspair418, @itisjustwhatitis, @cl-0-vr, @d34d-4c1d, @hargrovehoe, @vainillasmil157, @leahjean, @captainweirdo42, @magnificantmermaid, @dark-night-sky-99, @kaicyl, @ladybug0095, @bellaisasleep, @blackravena, @isaxbella749, @reneki, @heylosers06, @izzicle, @bucky-thorin-winchester, @hangmanscoming, @harrypotteranna23-blog, @fan-goddess, @glame, @muthafuckingstargirl, @barnes70stark, and @shintax-error​.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Separate III | © scribblesofagoonerr

pairings: leah williamson x reader!buddy x reader!monkey

summary: buddy finds it difficult to express her emotions.

thank you @alotofpockets for putting up with me firing ideas at you as usual, hehe

also, i'm ill right now so if this sucks then i'm sorry!

“Put the red block on top of the ‘ellow one!” Your little voice demands, pointing your index to the red lego block that sat on the floor abandoned.

“This one?” Monkey asks, picking up the said block in her hand to which you nod, “You want it on top of the yellow one?” She checks for your agreement.

“Uh huh! We gon’ make a big big tower!” You tell her, motioning the tallness of it with your tiny hands, “Huge!”

“Oh yeah? Why not a castle instead?” Monkey questions, curiously as she pieces the red block on top of the yellow like you had told her.

“No, big tower!” You insist, scowling at the older girl like you’d watched Leah do a lot when Monkey is in trouble with her, “No castle, Monkey!” You add.

“Alright, alright, got it,” Monkey grins, holding her hands up in surrender, “No castle, we’ll build a tower… Although technically, they’re sort of the same thing,” 

“No!” You exclaim in protest, no doubt alerting Leah from where she is in the kitchen to the commotion in the living room.

“Now the blue one– Not that one!” You continue to demand, doing your best to perfect the glare while resting your hands on your hips sassily.

Leah will be proud of you for that.

“Right, okay, that one,” Monkey murmurs, rolling her eyes at your newfound bossiness, “Geesh, when did you get so demanding, huh?” She attempts to joke.

“That blue one, Monkey!” You repeat loudly.

“Are you two playing nicely in here?” Leah teases, entering the living room after hearing the commotion between the two of you and watches in amusement as your stubbornness comes out in full swing.

You truly are her mini me.

“Mummy! Monkey’s building the tower wrong!” You snitch on your favourite person straight away as your bottom lip wobbles, “Tell her off, Mummy!” You demand.

“Wha? I didn’t do anything!” Monkey defends herself, “I simply just suggested the idea that we could build a castle instead, which would be so much cooler!”

“Nuh uh!” You state in protest.

“Yuh huh!” Monkey argues back.

“Nuh uh!” You repeat, louder and going for the ulterior motive of getting what you want, standing in front of Leah and lifting her arms up for her to pick you up, “Mummy, Monkey’s being mean to me!”

“No I am not!” Monkey shouts in protest, flailing her arms in the air, “Le, your daughters’ the one being bossy!”

Leah can’t help but laugh slightly and shake her head, “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” She breaks up the squabble between you both as she lifts you up into her arms, “If you two can’t play nicely together then I think it’s time we put it away, hm?”

“That’s not fair,” Monkey is the first to protest the idea, slumping her shoulders from where she sat on the floor, “I’m just sayin’ towers are boring and castles are more adventurous!”

“Put it away, Monkey,” Leah tells her with a pointed look, “And then afterwards, I need your help to lay the table,” She adds.

“Why? I wasn’t even that mean!” Monkey exclaims in disagreement.

“I’m not asking for that reason,” The blonde tells your favourite person, “Dinner will be ready soon, so just come and do it please,”

“Not like I have a choice in the matter,” The girl murmurs before she huffs and begrudgingly puts the lego away like she’s been told to do.

“Come on Buddy,” Leah encourages, her voice gentle but still trying to remain firm with you, “You need to eat your dinner,”

“Nuh uh,” You protest against the idea, providing another battle for the blonde to deal with much to her detest, “Don’ wanna!” You add, crossing your arms stubbornly.

Sitting at the dinner table, you find yourself being unusually fussy about your food, but that’s just because now you are starting to miss Jordan again.

You wish that she is here as well with you, not at her home instead.

Leah furrows her eyebrows, “Why not?”

You exhale a loud sigh in response, “Ou’ don’ understand!” You state, pouting at the plate in front of you.

“What don’t I understand?” Leah’s certainly frazzled by your unusual fussiness during dinner, “You need to eat your vegetables to grow up big and strong, remember?” She continues to try and encourage you to eat them.

“No, I don’ like them!” You insist, moving to push the plate away from you, “No hungry!” You add, dramatically.

Monkey snorts across the table from you, “Well this is new,” She remarks, amused with your current antics, “Can you really blame her for not wanting to eat vegetables? They’re gross,” She asks.

“Really? You’re not helping here!” Leah gives her a look across the table before continuing to try and encourage you to eat your dinner in front of you, “Come on sweetheart, I need you to try and eat a little bit or you’ll be hungry later on, won’t you?”

“No!” You shout in further protest.

“Hey, no, we don’t shout at Mummy like that, little miss,” Leah scolds you for your outburst, “Can you tell Mummy why you don’t want to eat the rest of your dinner?”

“Don’ wanna eat it and 'ou not listen to me, Mummy!” You cry out, wanting nothing more than to abandon the rest of your dinner in front of you, “It yucky!” You add, scrunching your face up at the sight of them.

“Damn, you are being stubborn tonight,” Monkey murmurs in a low voice as she catches the pointed look Leah gives her again, “Alright, got it. I’ll shut up… But you know, your eating habits are just as bad sometimes. You’ve only got yourself to blame there,” She tells Leah.

“Monkey!” Leah warns, her voice sharp.

“Come on, I’m only messing here,” Monkey states, holding her hands up in mock surrender as she has an idea, “Hey, Buddy! How about you eat the yucky vegetables and then we can have chocolate cake for pudding. Sounds good?” She bargains with you.

Your eyes light up at the thought of cake, “Yeah!”

With the thought of cake in your head, you begin to start picking at the vegetables on your plate as you know you will soon be rewarded with cake afterwards.

“Unbelievable,” Leah clicks her tongue in disagreement.

“See? Works like a charm! Be happy that she's eating now,” Monkey smugly looks at Leah proud of herself, “But uh, do we have any chocolate cake? Cos’ I promised it to her now and I can’t break a promise!”

Unfortunately for Leah, this is only the first of many battles that she will have with you tonight.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[justabigassnerd]

New Home

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 4,486

Warnings - death of a parent, strained father-daughter relationship, angst, running away, a pinch of fluff

Summary - after losing your mother, custody is granted to your father Pete Mitchell. however, it's been years since you last saw him

A/N - whoa whoa whoa I be swinging in with a new fic y'all! I actually loved writing this anon request and it does have the potential to be a series (the key word here is potential because I am not committing to anything just yet, I need to see how this turns out first). anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

You hardly knew your father. You knew his name was Pete Mitchell, that he was a naval aviator, and that your mum insisted you inherited a large chunk of your personality from Maverick but that was the extent of your knowledge. You’ve seen pictures of him, and your mum told you about times he visited when you were a baby, but you held no concrete memories of your own of the man. Because of your lack of connection to him, you didn’t really consider Maverick your father. He stopped visiting when you were a baby, so you didn’t really care to acknowledge his relation to you. Your mum, while understanding your feelings and not wanting to force anything upon you, did try to encourage you to get into contact with Maverick if you could to try and form some sort of bond with him.

Then your mother got sick. You spent a lot of time outside of school caring for her and working your part-time job to keep you and your mum afloat when she had to stop working because her health was declining so rapidly. It was tough for you to try and keep things going and your mum tried to push for you to get into contact with your father, so you’d have someone to go to if she didn’t win the battle against her illness, but you always rebutted, insisting that she’d be fine.

You watched as your mother had to be admitted to the hospital for round-the-clock care. You always visited her after school or work and spent as much time with her as you could, constantly asking the nurses and doctors for updates and hoping by some miracle she’d recover.

But she never did.

Your mum passed away after three months of battling with an illness you could never understand, leaving you alone in the world. You soon ended up in contact with social services as your mother had contacted them prior to her death without you knowing and told them that she wished for you to move in with your dad as opposed to going into foster care. You were still hesitant about the whole thing. You barely knew him; you’d be uprooting your entire life to move to Miramar.

While you had to go home, pack bags and prep things for your mother’s funeral, Maverick received a knock on his door early one Saturday morning.

“Hello, are you Captain Pete Mitchell?” The woman on the other side of the door says, a kind smile on her face as she speaks. Maverick was taken aback by this woman being on the other side of the door, he would’ve put money on it being Bradley on the other side of the door over some random woman.

“I am. Can I help you?” Maverick asks, confused as to how she knows who he is and what she’s doing at his house.

“You have a daughter, y/n l/n, correct?” The woman then asks, eyes flicking down to the file in her hand while Maverick’s expression shifts from one of confusion to one of worry.

“Is she okay?” Is the first thing that comes out of Maverick’s mouth as he thinks of all the things that could possibly have happened to you.

“Her mother, Catherine, passed away a couple of days ago and before she passed, she made it known to us that she wanted y/n to be in your care since she has no other relatives.” The woman explains and Maverick feels his heart sink to his stomach at the woman’s words. His relationship with your mother may have been short, but he never stopped caring for her. Hearing she had passed hit him hard.

“She wanted me to take y/n in?” Maverick asks quietly, searching for confirmation as the woman nods slightly.

“She did. We’re going to help you and y/n with the process and check in occasionally after she’s moved in to make sure everything is okay with the two of you.” The woman says as she hands a card over with her name and number on it. Maverick inspects the card, learning that her name is Holly Fieldman before looking back up at her.

“When is she coming? I know she lives a couple of states away.” Maverick asks as he pushes the card into his jean pocket, watching as Holly silently asks to be let in and he obliges, stepping aside and letting her enter his house, leading her to the living room and sitting down opposite her.

“y/n wants to hold her mother’s funeral before she comes to Miramar.” Holly starts, flicking through the file and double-checking all the information she received from her colleague.

“That makes sense.” Maverick says slowly, wishing he could be there to help you with the funeral, but he was aware he could potentially overstep if he tried to get involved.

“My colleague said the funeral should be taking place within the next couple of days so I will contact you when we have a date set for y/n to come here.” Holly says as she glances up at Maverick who nods slightly in acknowledgement to her words.

“That’s okay, that gives me time to sort things out here.” Maverick agrees as Holly gets to her feet, Maverick quickly mirroring her actions and leading her to the front door and bidding her goodbye. Once he closes the door, Maverick turns around and rests his back against the door, staring into his house before muttering.

“Good thing I have the spare room clear.”

A few days later, after the funeral, you were all packed up and waiting at the airport for your flight to San Diego. Your leg bounced nervously as you stared at the sign above the gate door displaying the location you were flying to. Everyone around you seemed perfectly relaxed and ready for the flight ahead while you were thinking of everything that could go wrong. By the time you boarded the plane and found your seat, you could’ve laughed at yourself for how nervous you were. You were the daughter of a top naval aviator and here you were panicking about flying in a commercial plane which you were sure was much safer than doing whatever it was your father did for work. You were sure you looked crazy with the way you were gripping the armrests when the plane took off into the air, eyes scrunching shut as your stomach lurched at the foreign feeling.

Thankfully, the flight went smoothly, and no one made any comments about your very obvious nervousness. When you were allowed to disembark the plane, you followed the sea of people to luggage claim as you gripped the straps of your rucksack to try and direct your nerves somewhere. Once you grabbed your suitcase off the conveyor belt, you followed the large signs that led to the arrivals terminal where you soon located a smartly dressed woman holding a sign with your name on, so you approached her sheepishly.

“Hello, y/n. I’m Holly, we spoke on the phone the other day.” The woman says, introducing herself straight away and holding out a hand for you to shake which you do, nodding at her words and quietly thanking her when she offers to take your suitcase for you.

“Are you taking me straight to his house?” You ask as you stop outside Holly’s car, waiting as she loads your suitcase into the boot of her car before she turns back to face you.

“We’re going to have you meet your dad in a café first, a nice neutral setting for the both of you and I’ll be there to help ease you guys into everything.” Holly says, her bright smile never wavering when she speaks as she rounds the car and gets in the driver’s seat, with you getting in the passenger seat.

You tried to distract yourself by taking in the views of what was going to be your new home, but you couldn’t stop the pounding of your heart. You hated that you were so nervous. He had never been there for you growing up. He wasn’t a dad to you. So why were you so nervous?

When Holly parked outside a small café that was nestled along Miramar’s beachfront, your nerves were now in full drive and when she moved to open her door, you remained seated.

“Is it too late to ask if I can get a flight back?” You ask, glancing over at Holly who settles back in the car seat to address you.

“It is, sweetie. Look, I understand that you’re nervous. But everything is going to be just fine. I promise you.” Holly says softly, her smile softening as she addresses you and for a moment, you believe her words. You get out of the car, close the door behind you and follow Holly into the café.

As soon as you enter the small building, your eyes are immediately surveying the people that are in the café, searching for whichever one is Pete Mitchell. Then you saw a man stand up, eyes studying you as he looked at you and Holly and you soon noticed Holly moving to approach him. He matched the man in the sparse photos you had of your father so that along with Holly greeting him with the same bright smile she had used on you made you figure that he had to be Pete Mitchell and as you slunk along to meet him, you took a deep breath and made sure to not show your emotions. You already had a feeling he more than likely didn’t want to take you in, he just had to because your mum insisted on it. You just wanted to be prepared for the worst.

“y/n… wow you’ve really grown up.” Is the first thing Maverick can bring himself to say as you stand opposite him.

“Yeah… that’s what happens over time.” You say dismissively, shrugging your shoulders half-heartedly and your gaze flicks away to the table Maverick is sitting at so you could avoid looking at him.

“Why don’t we take a seat?” Holly suggests, not letting the mood deter her as she grabs the back of one of the chairs and pulls it towards her to make room for her to sit down at the table with you and Maverick following her actions. You sit opposite Maverick awkwardly, neither of you knowing how to start a conversation with the other.

“So, y/n, how was the flight?” Holly starts, attempting to initiate a conversation.

“It was okay.” You say half-heartedly, barely glancing at either person sitting at the table with you.

“Was it a busy flight?” Maverick then asks, trying to get a bit more information out of you.

“This was my first time on a plane I don’t know what constitutes ‘busy’, but most of the seats were filled I guess.” Your words came out a little harsher than you intended but you weren’t all that fussed about the way your words came out.

“Well you made it here safely and that’s all that matters.” Maverick then says, a small smile on his face to try and make you feel more comfortable around him. Instead, all he got back was a small shrug and you avoiding his gaze. He knew it must be a hard adjustment for you, especially when you haven’t had contact with Maverick in years but all he wanted was for you to feel comfortable and supported and he was going to do his absolute best to do that for you.

The rest of the interaction that was overseen by Holly went about as well as you expected it to. The atmosphere was awkward and there was a slight tension from you. By the time Maverick was allowed to take you home, Holly pulled both of you aside separately and told you that you could call her whenever and that she’d do a home visit in the next few days to see how things were progressing and left the two of you alone outside the café after handing you your luggage.

“Let’s get you settled in at home.” Maverick says after a minute or two of awkward silence between the two of you, gesturing with his head for you to follow him which you do so slowly, not in any rush to get to this new house. You load up your luggage, ignoring Maverick’s attempts to help you before getting in the backseat of the car, sitting behind the driver’s seat so Maverick couldn’t see you as easily.

“You can sit up front with me for the journey home, you know?” Maverick offers, turning around to glance at you sitting in the back of the car.

“I prefer sitting in the back.” You answer simply, already moving to put your headphones on you can just ignore everything on the journey to where you’d be living from now on. You hated that Maverick was calling it ‘home’. It may be home to him. But it could never be a home to you. Maverick watched sadly as you put your headphones in and adjusted the way you were sat so you were fully angled towards the window before he turned to face the front and began the drive to his house.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of the house, you weren’t shocked by what greeted you. It was an average-sized house in a small neighbourhood. Before Maverick even had time to turn around and talk to you, you were instantly climbing out of the car and heading to the boot of the car to pull your suitcase out, leaving Maverick alone in the car as he let out a small sigh before getting out of the car himself and crossing to the front door of his house to unlock the door and enter the house with you following behind.

As you enter the house, you follow Maverick when he leads you upstairs, opening a door and taking a step back for you to enter which you do. You glance around the room, it is practically bare, with white walls, and nothing more than a bed, wardrobe, and bedside tables.

“I’m sorry it’s so plain. I never really used this room. But you can decorate it however you want. I have a few days booked off work, so maybe we could get some things and decorate your room.” Maverick says, not daring to move an inch beyond the doorway as he watches you place your rucksack on the bed and take in the room. As Maverick had expected, you offered him no more than a mere shrug and noncommittal hum at his suggestion. Maverick was really trying to form some sort of bond with you. To try to make up for the years lost. But you clearly wanted nothing to do with him, and as much as it broke his heart, he couldn’t do any more than extend the olive branch and hope you one day take it. He didn’t want to overstep beyond that, so he nodded at your hum and headed downstairs.

You spent the rest of the day unpacking your belongings, hanging clothes up and storing things away before you finally placed the picture of you and your mum on your bedside table, so you always had her with you. As you tucked your suitcase under your bed, you heard Maverick calling you for dinner and as much as you didn’t want to go downstairs, the smell of food that was travelling up the stairs and into your room was making your stomach growl like nobodies business so you got up and went down the stairs, following the sounds of plates clanking to lead you to the kitchen but as you walked through the living room, your eyes drifted along the photos on the wall and you stopped opposite one particular photo. It was a photo of Maverick with a moustached man, both of them smiling for the camera with an arm wrapped around the other’s shoulders. You regarded the photo quietly, wondering who this man was. Did Maverick have another kid? As if he sensed you looking at the photos, Maverick emerged from the kitchen and approached you carefully.

“Having a look at the pictures?” He muses softly, a slight laugh tagged onto the end of his sentence to let you know he wasn’t upset or angry at you.

“Is he your son?” You ask, your gaze not moving from the picture of the two men.

“No. Not biologically at least. Bradley’s my best friend’s kid. But I helped raise him so he’s kind of like a son to me.” Maverick explains and you can’t help but feel a pang in your heart at his words. This Bradley guy got to have Maverick in his life as a father figure and you didn’t get your dad at all. It wasn’t fair.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Maverick urges softly, noticing the sadness in your eyes and hoping he didn’t just ruin everything between the two of you. You begrudgingly follow Maverick to the small table and eat your food in silence, barely giving Maverick more than a short sentence answer to any of his questions. The second you finished your meal you asked to be excused and retreated back to your room, leaving Maverick alone downstairs. He didn’t bother you for the rest of the night, only sticking his head in your room before he went to bed. Despite everything, he couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face when he saw you curled under your duvet, fast asleep.

“Goodnight, y/n/n.”

Over the days Maverick had off, you tended to avoid as much interaction with him as possible. You’d have meals with him and hold the briefest of conversations but that was your limit. And you never called him dad. You didn’t want to get attached to someone who didn’t want you when you were a baby and was now stuck with you. When Holly came for one of her home visits, you tried to ask if you could be placed elsewhere but she was insistent that you see it through with Maverick. She urged you to give him a chance, and that she could tell he was genuinely trying to form a connection. She could understand that you were upset with the loss of your mother and having to move in with someone who was hardly present in your life, but your mum had picked him for a reason, and you needed to trust her judgement.

After Holly left, you spent the rest of the day in your room mulling over her words. You knew your mum had never steered you wrong before. But sending you to live with someone you hardly knew just felt wrong to you. When night fell, your thoughts were getting too much you decided you needed to head out to get some fresh air and to think some more. You didn’t have a destination in mind, you still hardly knew the area, you just knew you needed to be out of the house. You were able to sneak downstairs and out of the house with zero difficulty, Maverick was napping on the sofa so keeping quiet and getting out of the door was no difficult task for you. Once you made it to the end of the road, you pulled out your phone and searched for directions to the beach.

About five minutes after you left, Maverick’s eyes blinked open and he stretched his arms above his head as he stood from the sofa, wincing as his back let out a slight crack. He knew he needed to stop falling asleep on the sofa, but he couldn’t help it. Deciding it was time to finally retire to bed, he headed upstairs, heading straight to your door. Since you arrived, he always stuck his head in your room to whisper goodnight to you, despite the fact you were always asleep when he did it. This time, however, when Maverick opened the door, he couldn’t see any figure in the bed. The little slither of light that snuck through the crack didn’t illuminate any evidence that you were in bed and Maverick couldn’t help but instantly be in panic mode. He couldn’t find any evidence that you were still in the house, so he was soon grabbing his keys and leaving the house to search for you.

You sat on a little bench overlooking the beach, not too far from where the café you first met Maverick was, listening to the gentle sounds of the waves against the shore, your eyes drifting up to the starry sky and bright moon that hung within it.

“Mum, you wanted me to come here for a reason, right? You think Pete would take care of me and that I’d finally have a father figure, don’t you?” You mutter quietly up to the sky, wondering if your mum would give you some sort of sign that she was listening. Instead, you heard the revving of a motorbike engine and Maverick’s worried voice calling out to you.

“y/n, oh thank god I found you.” Maverick says, relief beyond evident in his tone as he sits down next to you on the bench, leaving a gap between the two of you.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask quietly, briefly glancing over at Maverick before your gaze flicked back to the stars.

“I didn’t. I just drove around looking for you. But I did know you haven’t explored the area much, so my best guess was near the café. I wouldn’t have stopped looking for you all night if I hadn’t found you here.” Maverick explains, watching you under the dim street lamp as your eyebrows furrow slightly and you turn to look at him properly.

“Really?” You ask, your voice timid as you look at Maverick.

“Really. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. I promised your mother I’d look after you.” Maverick explains, watching as your eyes widen at his words.

“You promised… did you talk with my mum before she died?” You then ask, tears threatening to build in your eyes. In response to your question, Maverick pulls his wallet out of his pocket and produces a small picture, handing it over to you and you instantly study the picture. It was of you; it couldn’t have been taken more than six months ago. It was of you out in the park, sitting on a bench and completely oblivious to your mum taking a picture of you.

“She liked to send me regular updates on how you were doing, as well as pictures. She told me you get pretty good grades in your classes, which makes me proud. The last time I spoke to her must’ve been just before or around the time she got sick because I never heard from her after that. But she made me promise to look after you if something happened years ago. I didn't think anything would ever happen. But I never stopped caring for you.” Maverick explains as you quietly hand back the photo, the tears in your eyes beginning to show under the street lights.

“If you cared so much, why did you stop visiting?” Unlike Maverick would’ve expected, your voice held no harshness to its tone, just defeat. You were just a kid who’s been deprived of a father figure your whole life.

“My job is dangerous. And I know what it feels like to lose your parents when you’re young. I just couldn’t put you through that, so I thought it was best I stayed away to protect you. It hurt so much to say goodbye knowing I probably wasn’t going to see you again.” Maverick says truthfully, fighting back tears of his own as he looks at the picture, knowing he was the reason you grew up without a father figure in your life. He couldn’t help but beat himself up over it every day. He had stepped in for Bradley when Goose died but the second, he had a kid of his own, he backed off and abandoned you.

“Did your mum ever try to move on?” Maverick then asks quietly, a sad tone you’re not used to hearing from him in his voice, as you watch him.

“No she didn’t. Truthfully, I don’t think she stopped loving you. She always spoke so highly of you.” You admit, shrugging lightly as you remember all the times your mum had told you about Maverick and never spoke a bad word about him. At your words, a tear or two escaped Maverick’s eyes and he let out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t deserve that. She deserved to be happy.” Maverick says, more tears escaping him as you wipe at your own eyes.

“She was happy. The time she had with you was clearly all she wanted and needed.” You say, not wanting Maverick to feel guilty or upset for something out of his control, a complete turnaround from the way you had been acting prior.

“I’m going to make it up to you. I promise. If you need me at all, I will be there. You’re not alone anymore.” Maverick promises, and you nod at his words, finally believing his words before you move closer to him and carefully wrap your arms around him for a hug. At first, he was tense, but soon he reciprocated the hug, holding you tight as you tried your best not to cry on his jacket.

“Can we go home now?” You ask as a small breeze blows by, making you shiver slightly, even in Maverick’s warm embrace.

“Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go home.” He says softly, helping you to your feet and leading you to his motorbike where he instructs you on how to hold on safely before taking you back home, making sure he goes a bit slower than he usually does when on his bike. When you make it home, you’re stifling yawns as you trudge upstairs to get ready for bed and by the time you finally crawl into bed, your eyes are already closing but you force them open when you hear Maverick quietly asking if he could enter your room. For the first time since you arrived, Maverick crosses to your bedside and smiles down at you.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He says quietly, leaning down and pressing a small kiss on the top of your head, smiling as a smile covers your own face while you snuggle further into your bed. Just as Maverick reaches the door, he hears you speak up.

“Goodnight, dad.”

Maverick swore that the large smile that appeared on his face didn’t shrink until the next day. Until you called him ‘dad’ again the next morning.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part eighteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: hiii posting this early bc bestie and i are ab to start a 24 hour readathon! if i'm not active for the next day, that would be why. anyway wish us luck!! also i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i should have so i'm sorry lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

You called out of work indefinitely, after that. You didn't want to quit, you wanted to love your job and you honestly couldn't see yourself doing anything else but right now, you just couldn't. Luckily, the girls who worked down at the library were incredibly understanding according to Lennox, who was sent to deliver your letter of leave and apology.

It had been close to a week when you finally ventured out to the back porch to read rather than rotting in bed all day staring at the ceiling. Your mother made you tea, and insisted she come sit with you. You enjoyed the company.

"Would you like to talk about it?" She asks, just as you're turning the page. Under normal circumstances, you'd resort to Romeo and Juliet, but now you feel like you couldn't stomach it. So, Much Ado About Nothing would have to suffice.

"I'm okay, Ma." You say softly, giving a slight shake over your head as your eyes fly over the faded lettering on the page.

"Lennox told us what happened, you know." She adds after a beat of silence.

You look up at her, frowning. "I'm sorry. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

"Don't be, dear." She shakes her head quickly, gently resting a hand on your thigh. "I wish you had told us. I wouldn't have invited him in that day, I could have told you he stopped by and we could have made a plan. I shouldn't have sprung that on you."

You sigh, pursing your lips and closing your book. "I didn't want you to dislike him, that's why I didn't tell you. I thought... I wanted to come home with at least something positive to talk about. And I thought that if I gave it enough time, thinking positively about him, I could try to contact him without seeing... that."

She smiles sadly at you. "You really love him, huh?"

"How could I not?" You admit quietly, staring at the cover of the book on your lap. "He was the first person there to show me kindness, to make me feel like I wasn't alone." You explain. "It felt... Like Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers, because of course I didn't think I could really have him. I was living in a dream, in a way."

"And now?" She prompts you to continue, thrilled that you are finally opening up.

"Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps."

She chuckles, gently rubbing your leg. "So that's a yes, then."

"How I wish it was not." You groan, reaching for your cup to drown your predicament in tea.

"Your brother," She sighs, gently removing the book from your lap. "came home that night just... just shaking with anger. And he looked me and your father in the eyes and said he was going to kill Coriolanus. He was set on it." She explains, and you look at her.

"He said that?" You ask, and she nods.

"I could see it in his eyes, he meant it, and we were so confused. Because, after all, it had been Coriolanus and Sejanus who came to the door seeking help for you, and your father told me Coryo looked like a ghost- bless him." She chuckles slightly.

"What I mean is... Your brother is not immune to violence, either. He would hurt someone for you, I know it. Just because you don't wish him to, doesn't mean he doesn't love you so much that he would do anything." You mull over her statement, chewing passively on your lip. "And boys... boys just do things differently than you and I would. Or Lucy Gray would. I bet if you asked her about Billy Taupe, Tam Amber, or little Clerk Carmine, that she'd tell you they've all had their moments. But boys aren't treated fair in this life, so sometimes, they don't fight fair."

"Coriolanus killed someone, Ma."

"Why?" She asks. "Lennox told me you saw it. Why did he kill that boy?"

"Because..." You shake your head. "He was trying to kill him, first."

"Okay, well-"

"But that I can understand, given the circumstances." You quickly explain, guilt settling in your stomach like a weight as you put your mug back down. "It was after. Bobbin had so clearly already passed on, and he hit him again. It was anger, and it was not necessary. A waste of precious time he didn't have but he did it anyway and that... that scared me."

She hums, listening to you intently. "If it helps, dear, and this is my honest feelings... I still think he is a good man, with a good heart." She says. "I know what you've seen is... gosh, it's unfathomable, and I wish I could take that pain from you, but I really do think that if you still feel anything for him you should talk to him."

Your eyes snap up to hers, and you look scared.

"I've only met him once, but gosh, the way he looks at you, and how he spoke about you, he thinks you put the stars in the sky." She grins, trying to relax you by taking your hand. "No problems have ever solved by hiding. And even if you turn out to be correct, that he's never been who you thought he was, you'll get peace by having answers. And even so, he deserves that peace too."

"I... I'll think about it." You nod softly, reaching for your book again.

"Hello? Boys?" Lucy Gray calls out, walking into the small house Coryo and Sejanus have been occupying.

"In here!" Sejanus calls back, and she follows his voice into the small kitchen where he's attempting to make something to eat.

"Ooh, what's for lunch?" She asks, sitting herself down at the dining room table.

"Eggs... I think." Sejanus laughs. Lucy Gray had been coming by to try and keep them company, and she did really like spending time with Sejanus. Coryo didn't have a whole lot to say, though.

"Yum." She giggles, sitting up straight to look into the pan. "Where's Coriolanus?"

"Guess."

"On the back porch staring at the trees?"

"Pretty much."

Lucy Gray sighs, pushing herself up. "Okay, well, The Covey and I are going to the lake tomorrow. It's a hike out, but it's beautiful. You guys should come."

"I'll be there, but I don't know if we can convince blondie." Sejanus nods toward the back door.

"Oh, I'll convince him." She smiles smugly, brushing past him and out the door.

Lucy Gray finds out quickly that apparently she had guessed wrong- he was sitting on the porch, like he had been every day, but today he was reading rather than just staring out at the mountains. "What are ya readin'?" She asks, standing in front of him.

"Nothing that's any of your business." He grumbles, not looking up from the pages of the worn down book.

She leans over him, attempting to read it upside down. "Ah." She grins. "Romeo and Juliet? Good choice."

"What do you need, Lucy Gray?" He asks, closing the book and glaring up at her.

"I've come to extend and invitation to you, we're all going to the lake tomorrow. I think you should come."

"No, thank you."

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You didn't chop off all those beautiful gold curls just so you could never see Y/N again, did you?"

His eyes visibly brighten at that, only for a moment. "She's going?" This was the chance he was waiting for. He intended to go to your house that following morning, maybe pick up flowers on the way, a book, or some kind of peace offering, but Sejanus and Lucy Gray shut that down very quickly. Even though he cut his hair almost as soon as he got back to this dump they called a house, they said you still needed time.

"Mhm." Lucy Gray nods, smiling at him knowingly. "She hasn't been working, so I was able to book her for the day."

Had Lucy Gray talked to you about this yet? No. But she knew it would do him some good to get away from this house for a day, whether you were there or not, and she knew that deep down you would want to see him again. A group setting was the best way to do this for everyone. She knew he would be easy to convince, but getting you to agree would be the hard part.

"Okay, okay yeah. I'll come." Coryo nods, looking down. He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he feels like he should be doing something to prepare somehow.

"She's still... sensitive. So be nice."

"I have never not been nice to her."

"Never said you have." Lucy Gray raises an eyebrow at him. "I meant be careful. She may not want to talk to you. I won't tell her you're coming so I can at least get her out the door."

"Why not?" Coryo asks, immediately knowing how stupid that sounds when Lucy Gray lets out a laugh. "I mean, I don't want to scare her off, so she should know. Please be honest with her." He pleads.

Lucy Gray's eyes soften at that. "Okay, you're right. But I'm not tellin' you if she says no. You still have to come." She points at him and he sighs.

"Okay, whatever. Sure."

"You're both just rotting and making it worse for yourselves. You need to get out." She says as she walks back inside, leaving him alone to read.

Coryo smiles to himself as he picks the book up again, continuing where he left off even though he's already read it five or six times.

"You're gonna be fine just fine, Y/N/N. I promise." Lucy Gray assures you as you walk down the path toward the forest where the Covey and Sejanus were waiting. With Coryo.

"I won't let him near ya." Lennox adds, kicking a rock aside as he walks in front of you and your friend.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. If you want space, tell him. I talked to him about this. He knows not to push you." Lucy Gray whispers to you and you nod, teeth digging into the softness of your cheek.

"I know." You say quietly, arm wrapped around hers. You loved going to the lake, and you've been a couple of times since you've been back, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't hesitant to bring him with you. If it goes poorly, you don't know if you could ever go back.

"Yeah, I gave him a stern talkin' to. Put the fear of god in him, he'll be on his best behaviour." She giggles.

"You didn't actually scare him, did you?" You laugh nervously.

"Of course I did." She says, but you know she's just joking.

"Is Billy Taupe coming?" You ask her after a moment.

Your friend wrinkles up her nose and shakes her head. "No, lord, no." She chuckles. "He's off with that Mayfair. Real class act, they are."

You giggle, squeezing her arm. You take it as they're broken up, at least for now. "I'm sorry, Lucy Gray." You add and feel her shrug under your grip.

"I'm done with him this time." She tells you, shaking her head. "I can't trust him no more."

"One foot in sea and one on shore." You comment and she looks at you, a smile pulling on her lips as she gently pulls you closer, leaning her head on your shoulder.

"Y/N!" Maude Ivory greets the two of you first, running up and throwing her arms around your waist. You jump slightly at the sudden contact, making every effort to catch her with nothing more than a slight gasp and a smile. "I've missed you!"

"Hello, dear." You chuckle, running your hands over the length of her blonde hair. "It's only been a couple of weeks, and you do know where to find me."

"Your friend has a gift for you, come on." She grins, letting you go only to grab your hand and pull you up the rest of the hill.

When Coryo sees you, his instinct is to push his hair back out of his face. That can't happen, so he settles for shifting on his feet and gripping the flower he's holding in his hand as you avoid his gaze and he avoids your brothers. Of course you would hide from him- he doesn't fault you for it. You were nervous, he could tell. And of course Lucy Gray neglected to tell him that Lennox was coming, though, he understood why.

He just wished you were angry at him. That would be far preferable to you being afraid.

"Y/N, hi." Sejanus greets you and you smile at him, giving a quiet wave as you adjust your bag over your shoulder. You packed your book and a blanket with some cherries you picked from the tree behind your house to share with everyone. You can see in your peripheral vision that Coryo has gotten a haircut, but you can't bring yourself to look at him just yet. Or comment on it.

"Alright, let's get movin'! The sun is only up for so long." Lucy Gray claps, not forcing you to have to say hi to Coriolanus before she's urging the group on.

Coryo looks at you as everyone else starts walking, and you nod through everyone to go ahead of you. You hate the idea of having people behind you that you can't see.

Then, finally, your eyes land on him. He smiles, hoping you would want to walk with him.

"Go ahead." You say softly, quickly looking up ahead and Lennox has stopped to wait for you.

"Oh, uh, this is for you." Coryo takes a step closer, holding the yellow daisy out to you that he picked on the walk out. Apparently, you didn't want to walk with him- you just didn't want him behind you. That was a thousand times worse.

You look down at it for a moment, reminding yourself quickly to take it instead of just staring. "Thank you." You reply quietly, delicately plucking the flower from his hold.

"Yeah, of course." He grins, not wanting to give up your attention just yet. "I... I'm really glad you agreed to come."

"It'll be nice. The lake is beautiful." You tell him, glancing over at your brother.

"Come on!" He calls out, impatient. "They're gonna leave us in the dust."

You hold back a sigh as you feel Coryo's eyes on you. You guess you will be walking with him, after all. "Coming!" You smile at him.

It's fine- he's fine. He won't hurt me.

You look up at Coryo, and his eyes are still on you. "Shall we?" He grins, gesturing to the path ahead of you.

Okay, he looks normal. His eyes are normal. Blue, sky blue. Gentle.

"Let us go." You grin at him, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag as it rests across your chest. You look back down at your feet as you walk, mindful of the roots and sticks that may trip or scratch you. You spare a glance at his feet as he joins your side on the narrow path.

Lucy Gray knew that even with her warning that Coryo would likely corner you, but she kept a close eye on you even from up ahead while she talked to Sejanus and practically dragged Lennox along with them so he would give you at least a little bit of space.

You walk in silence for a long time. The trees get thicker as you separate from the meadow and the town, isolating you only further, but you didn't feel unsafe. Not really.

Coryo would take what he could get, but he had to try to talk to you eventually. When he planned out this trip in his head the night before they were set to board the train, he had hoped that the days and nights would be spent together. That you'd say you understood, that you were happy and okay and yes! You would love to take him to the lake you frequented, just the two of you, and 'Oh, we should bring a picnic and just spend the whole day there. It will be so much fun!' And he'd get to see your smile without it quickly fading and he could hold your hand and get that second kiss that he never thought he would receive and everything would be perfect.

He never considered himself much of a dreamer, but something about you made that change. After he got to feel his lips on yours, then on the soft skin of your shoulder and his hands on your waist or locked in yours, there was no going back. He was all yours.

"So," He starts talking after only about an hour of walking. You were almost there, so you took a sharp breath in. You could talk for forty minutes. You could do it. And you wanted to, you remind yourself. "This is quite a hike, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes." You nod. "But we aren't far out now. It's worth it, I promise." You say, eyes still locked on the ground just in front of you.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful walk, just... long." He comments. "And lots of bugs."

"Yes..." You chuckle nervously.

"What's it like?" He asks, desperate just to continue to hear your voice,

"The lake?" You ask, risking a look up at him. His lips form into a smile and he nods, urging you on. "Well," You swallow, trying to organize every detail you remember from last summer, before the games. "The water is very blue, and quite clear. There's a dock, we have the most fun jumping off of it."

Coryo watches your expression intently, trying to inhale every word. You pause, and your face lights up with remembered joy. "My Pa put a rope swing up here for us kids when we were young, and a few summers ago I went to take it- I climbed as far back up as I could before jumping. Then, I felt the branch jerk and I grabbed it tighter, it ended up wrapped around my leg on the way down and I got stuck." You recall the injury, but you're almost laughing. "I got this massive red burn all up the inside of my thigh, and then Lennox ripped the thing down." You giggle, and Coryo swallows. "He was joking, just pretending to even though it was my own fault, but the branch broke clean off and me and Lucy Gray tried to jump out of the way and ended up falling straight into the water."

He laughs with you at that, shaking his head. "Well, I hope your leg wasn't serious." He watches you and you're quick to shake your head.

"No, gosh no." You giggle. "Not worth pulling the whole thing down over, but it wouldn't have been kind to the next kid who swung- that's for sure. So it was probably for the best."

"Fair enough." He shrugs, eyes still glued onto you.

"I'd rather get a burn then have that big ol' thing fall on Maude Ivory or CC. They were just little at the time." He nods. That sounds just like you.

"So you've been friends for a long time, I take it?"

"Well, yes. Since they got stuck here, pretty much."

"Stuck here?" Coryo asks, looking up ahead at the group that was still just within sight.

You look up as well, just to make sure they weren't in earshot. "The Covey isn't District." You explain, voice lowered. "They used to travel everywhere to perform, but then when they got here peacekeepers rounded them up. Executed all their parents, and the kids got stuck here." You tactically leave out the part about his father being the commanding officer at the time.

"Oh."

"I think that's why Lucy Gray can't get over Billy Taupe." You add quietly, watching your friend as she laughs with Sejanus up ahead. "He's one of them, they have so much history. They're on and off, but she'll never abandon him. Not when they've been through so much together. They're the oldest- they've had to take care of the rest of them for almost their whole lives."

Coryo doesn't know what to say. "That's... yeah. I can imagine it would be hard to move on when they're so tied to each other."

You hum in agreement. "Anyway, we met when they were begging outside the market. They set their instruments up and were playing for tips just so they could eat, so my parents stopped and invited them for dinner. They've been with us ever since."

"Your parents are really good people." He comments.

You look up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I told you that, didn't I?"

"Well, you told me they weren't rebels. That doesn't mean they're saints." He jokes.

"Feels like anyone less than a saint these days is considered a rebel for one reason or another." You argue, but there's no harshness at all behind your tone.

"Regardless, your parents are safe." He says, hoping that you've forgotten about his father being a peacekeeper general.

"Well, thank you." You laugh slightly, shaking your head. "How is Tigris, by the way? And your Grandmother? Have you spoken to them since you've been away?"

"I've called a few times, yeah. They're doing well." Coryo smiles. "Tigris is taking some time off, she's working on some different projects at home."

"I'm glad to hear that." You smile. "They must be missing you."

"So they say, yeah." He chuckles.

"It's hard to be away from home." You tell him. "I know it all too well."

His smile drops steadily, but he just nods. "Yes. At least I have the guarantee of returning."

You try so hard to steer every conversation you have away from the games, but it never seems to work. People have so many questions, so many comments, and it's a shame that Coryo is no exception. You suppose that was inevitable. He's one of very few people who somewhat know what you went through.

You really wish you had met him some other way.

"I'm sorry." He quickly apologizes, sensing your shifted energy. "That was... I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no. It's okay." You insist. "I just... Everyone wants to talk about it all the time. I can't escape it."

"I should have known better. I'm sorry." He says again, taking in a deep breath. "I wanted to be different. I try so hard to not make you think about it and I should have remembered that before I said anything, I just-"

You shake your head, frowning as you look up at him. "I wouldn't expect you to." You tell him. "If I'm honest, you're the one person I think I am okay with discussing it with."

Coryo has to fight back the smile threatening to pull at his cheeks from the relief. You weren't planning on never talking to him again. This was a great sign. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears shouting from up ahead.

"We made it!" Lucy Gray cheers, and sure enough, he can see the lake appearing through the trees.

"Coryo, you gotta see this!" Sejanus's voice follows.

"We made it." You smile, happy to change the subject. "Come on, the water is going to feel so good."

Then, you're jogging up ahead of him and pulling your bag off to leave on the dock.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Crumbling Down

carlos sainz x Piquet!wife oc & secret family

this is meant with no real negativity to cs55's girlfriend rebecca, and only discusses her in a slight poor light due to plot reasons.

Private Account

verity.sainz a perfect break with my whole world before flying is restricted once more by baby #4 🤍

carlossainz55 mi corazon ❤️

f1wags and we're back to race week with the first public appearance of Carlos Sainz's new girlfriend!

fan1 WHY DOES HE HAVE HIS EYES OPEN WHEN THEY KISS?

"Carlo," I can't help the crack in my voice when I say his name, "You said you would say no to them. You said you wouldn't abuse our desire to keep our private life private like this."

"Mi amor," The pet name hurts, something that used to make my body buzz with joy making me want to cry harder as I wrap my arm around my rounded stomach. "They were insistent, I've never had a woman come to the paddock outside my family and they say I needed to change that."

"You haven't gone with a woman because we decided to remain private! We didn't want to pressures of the world! So we got married, and then we had Carlos and Junie and then they were each too young to go, and just as we were about to announce the family, I got pregnant with Flora and now with Tilly-"

"Tilly? As in Matilda?" He asks, interrupting my emotional rate with a tone that is too close to joy. "You found out the baby's gender?"

We had picked out names. This wasn't how he was supposed to find out.

"Yes, she's a little girl," I admit, "The kids and I had a whole plan how to announce it once you got home."

"I can't wait to see what you have planned," Is his answer, the sounds of the garage around him getting slowly quieter as I can only assume he moves towards his drivers room.

The idea of him coming home after kissing her to kiss me, to kiss our children's foreheads, makes me want to be sick.

"At the moment Carlos, I can't promise the kids and I will be here when you get home," I whisper, the truth slipping out like razorblades. "I think we're going to go see my parents."

"Vera, you're not meant to be flying. We were cutting it close with out trip as it is," He answers, voice strong and commanding.

"That's what's upsetting you? The fact that I will be traveling and not that I've just told you that your wife and children won't be home to greet you when you return because you're parading around another woman? Because when Carlos and Junie put on the race to see their father they'll see her name with yours underneath?"

"Verity, you know that's not what I want-"

"Then why did you agree? Why did you agree after I cried to you about how the idea of you with another woman made me ill?"

"It was for a good reason," His answer is hesitant, and you can tell he doesn't mean it.

"I hope the reason was enough for you, Carlos, because I can't keep letting you love us in the dark. We'll be with a friend since you're so concerned about me traveling." He did have a good point on that matter, but I can't help but say it before hanging up, not giving him a moment to respond as I waddle my way to the living room, dropping myself on the couch.

"Mamá?" Carlos III's voice calls, his head of hair like his fathers sticking out from behind the hallway wall, "Que occure? (What happened?)"

"Oh my baby, nothing happened," I try to assure, attempting to get all the tears off my cheeks before he can really notice.

"Mamá," He prompts this time, sounding entirely fed up with my response as he moves into the room, such a serious look for a seven year old. "I heard you on the phone with Papá. What has he done?"

"Something that you do not need to worry yourself about mi mundo (my world)," I assure, pulling him into my side as he gets close. He curls into my side, hand resting on my stomach as he's done with his other sisters.

"Hola Tilly," He greets her, placing a quick kiss to where he feels her kick before looking up to me, his father's spitting image. "We're going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa?"

"No, you're father made the point that I can't travel anymore, so we're going to go see if tia Kelly and prima Penelope are up for some visitors, yeah?"

"I'll go get my suitcase and start packing," He agrees, giving me a small smile as he moves to get up. I know I'll have to repack his suitcase later, but as he runs off, all I can be is grateful for this little angel who blessed us when we were young and unprepared, much to my fathers chagrin. But my kids are who keep me together as I dial my sister's number, tears coming to my eyes when I hear her voice.

"Vera? Honey are you crying?"

"Kel, can the kids and I come visit?"

"Always. P will prep her toys and I will prep the guest rooms."

"What the fuck were you thinking," The angered Red Bull driver shouts across the paddock, storming towards the Ferrari drivers who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Max, what's-"

"This doesn't involve you, Charlie," The Dutchman silences, eyes blazes of fire as they move to the Spaniard who's practically his brother-in-law. "You brought your girlfriend to a race and expected that to go well with your wife? The mother of your four children?"

"Tell me you did not," Charles chimes in, unable to keep the words from slipping out of his mouth at news. He had seen Carlos with a woman earlier, but had only assumed her to be a new member of his media team.

"It is none of your concern, Verstappen. What happens between my wife and I is just that."

"And I'll respect that when your actions aren't broadcasted to the entire world and having Vera call Kelly sobbing saying she's packing up the kids and leaving," Max fumes, Carlos's expression dropping at the knowledge. He had known that she was upset, that she had threatened to leave, but he thought it was just that, a threat. Not that she would actually leave the home they had designed together in Nice.

"After this race you better fix your fucking mess, because I will enforce whatever Verity wants, whether that is keeping you away from her and the kids or not."

And the Dutchman storms off, not waiting for a response.

"Kelly, I am only here to see my family."

"Carlos, you've been in our family for nine years, by law seven, but I can promise you that if Vera doesn't want you here, you will not be entering this apartment," The elder Piquet daughter warns, eyes angered by the mans simple presence.

"Kel, can I come in?" Max questions, not wanting to answer her more but also hoping to embrace her and Penelope, any week without them feeling too long.

She smiles at him, having missed him as well but her expression quickly steels. "Not if you are bringing him in with you."

"Kelly," I finally interrupt, having enough of seeing her scold my husband through the door as I breastfeed Flora. "You can just let them in, but please warn Max that I'm feeding Flora," I request, hating the idea of making the man uncomfortable in his home.

"You're okay, Ver," Max offers, his eyes immediately meeting my own and not leaving as Kelly opens the door, him and Carlos entering. "Kelly and I are actually going to go say hi to the kids, I've missed P and all of them," he says, kissing my sisters lips in a quick peck.

"Is Flora done? We could take her with us?" And it's like Flor could understand her aunt's question, because she's unlatching on cue, allowing me to pull up the piece of my top to cover myself and nod to Kel.

"Would you please? She just needs to be-"

"Burped," Max finished, taking my current youngest into his arms, kissing her head as he moves her to his shoulder. "Between P and my nephews, we've got this covered. Just let us know when you're done," He offers, kissing the side of my head.

"Thank you."

"Anything for family," He just smiles, the expression falling when he turns to Carlos who has been frozen in place. "Say the wrong things and your ass will be on the street before you can say forza ferrari."

"Sí- I mean, yes, of course," His eyes meeting mine before his next words leave his mouth. "I just want to talk apologize my wife."

"Right then, let's go say his to the kids," Kelly prompts, the two walking out with Flora in hand, the cheers of the kids upon seeing their uncle and P seeing her father figure making my heart warm.

"Mi amor, you have no idea how sorry I am for agree to the teams request for even a moment," Carlo apologizes, his body moving towards mine, taking the spot beside me and my hands into his own. "I went back to the team, they've posted an announcement saying that Rebecca and I are not together, and I gave them a photo of us from our wedding."

My heart beat fastens, his eyes meeting mine as his fingers start to fiddle with my wedding band. "Why would you do that?"

"I am having it announced that before my start in formula one I have been madly in love with you. That over those years we have married and created a family in private that I love," He explains, a hand coming to cup my cheek, running his calloused thumb to wipe away the tears that have begun slowly running from my eyes. "I no longer want to hide you. We can keep the kids to ourselves until they're older, but now everyone knows I am taken by the love of my life."

"Carlo," I can't help but whimper, flinging myself at him in a hug. "Te amaré hasta que ya no respire (i will love you until i am no longer breathing)."

"And I, you, mi amor," He assures, kissing the top of my head. "I am more sorry than I could ever put into words."

"You've fixed the situation, Carlo, we can work from this," I smile, little giggles alerting us to our observers.

And wrapped around the corner, piled on top of each other, our children's heads and niece's head are stacked, Junie's under her brothers and Penelope's in between. It's only a moment later thought that Flora appears to be floating on top of Carlos III, Max and Kelly's heads slowly appearing as well.

"Estan bien mamá y papá? (Are you okay mama and papa?)" Juniper questions us, Carlos III placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Sí," Carlos Jr answers, pulling us into a sitting position. "Ven aquí nuestros amores (Come here our loves)." Their little feet carry them strong and fast towards us, gently climbing on top of us, minding my stomach as Kelly approaches us, now holding Flora and resting her gently against my chest with a smile. "We are okay, Papa made a mistake but he has started fixing it and I will be working to so for a time."

"As you should," Carlos III digs, making me smile slightly.

"We love you all," I remind, kissing eaches head, including Penelope. "And we love each other. No matter what, things will work out and we will love you all," my little girl giggling brightly.

"Nosotros tambien te amamos mama (we love you too mama)."

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 125 (Flowers, But Everyone's On Edge!)

Conrad landed at the San Myshuno Airport just before dark, where he signed for the bodies of George and June Brindleton. After sending them off in a truck to the morgue in Brindleton Bay, he drove around the city looking for a flower shop.

Really, he was hoping one flower shop in particular was open, and he smiled as he approached The Blooming Room with its lights on.

When the bell dinged to signal his entry, a woman turned around with a smile. "How can I help you?" Her face fell. "Lieutenant Gordon. Are you looking for some flowers?"

He nodded. "Something yellow. Buttercups, if you have them."

"We don't usually put buttercups in our floral arrangements. They're a skin irritant."

He frowned. "Forget the buttercups. Just...yellow."

Melissa Ramsay looked around nervously. "Is that it?"

"You changed your hair."

"Ximena's not the only one who likes to express herself with a bottle of hair dye, I guess. I went back to my natural colour because I'm done hiding."

"I found Rafa," he said. "He's in Sulani."

"Why are you telling me this, Lieutenant? I don't care."

"I don't believe that."

"Do you still care what happens to Ximena?"

"Of course I do. But I hope Ximena ends up behind bars for as long as possible, and I think you still care about Rafa."

She laughed. "I think you don't know me."

"So if I told you how to get in touch with him, you wouldn't even want to check in?"

"Lieutenant Gordon, please!" she begged. "If I check in with him, I'll never want to let him go."

"I don't know if there's anyone else in the world who could bring Ximena down faster than her brother, but he needs to be convinced. I told him I'd try to get him a lawyer and a judge who might offer him a good deal in exchange for turning her in, but he needs a real good reason to do it. I think he still cares about you, too."

She perked up somewhat. "How good a deal?"

"A few years, maybe. If he can help us pin Ximena for the murder of Jimmy Stefano, her price will go up and his sentence could come down. But the judge would need to see he'd be a productive member of society outside the system, and strong relationships with good people can go a long way."

"I don't want you, or anyone else, to get my hopes up, Lieutenant. Or Rafa's."

"I don't want that, either," he insisted. "But the only way we can do this is if we work together to change his mind."

For the first time, Melissa seemed hopeful, and as she sold him a bouquet of carnations and daffodils, Conrad thought he'd changed her mind. But as she wrapped cellophane around the stems, she frowned. "Fifteen simoleons, Lieutenant. Happy Love Day."

He sighed, pulling the notepad and a pen from his pocket to scribble down some information while he paid. "He's not using a phone, but if you call Leila Illes and Oliana Ngata at that number, they'll rent you a villa. Their son, Tane, will be able to show you where Rafa's hiding out. Bring good shoes."

By the time he made it back to Brindleton Bay, Love Day was already over. Heather was distracted, worried over Ash's conversation with Ben, but she accepted the flowers with a smile. "I'm glad you're okay. These are beautiful."

"I'll make it up to you for missing Love Day soon, but Sulani was...an adventure. The chief called an emergency meeting to discuss the Brindletons' murder investigation. We've got to try to plan for what might crack in this town now that he's gone. I need to change and turn around again...but I found Rafa."

Heather's eyes grew wide as she threw on a sweater and he changed clothes. "You found him? Did you bring him in, too? Is that the trouble you ran into?"

"He knocked me out before he realized it was me, but he stayed with me until I came to and apologized. I tried to convince him to come back and help us get a confession out of his sister, but he turned me down."

"So you just left him there? He's a wanted criminal. Does your boss know?"

"Rafa's almost like a little brother to me. He was so young, and Ximena worked all the time."

Heather frowned. "Conrad, you're lying for him."

"I need him to trust me, Heather. I think he's the only person who can bring Ximena down. I'm trying to help him for all our sakes."

"If anyone at the station finds out you're helping him, you could lose your job."

He nodded. "I know that. But I'd risk my job a thousand times for you and the kids, too. And your family."

Heather was annoyed, and she chose this moment to announce she'd booked her long talked-about vacation with Spencer. "Spence and I are going to Selvadorada the first week of spring. She's got a dig booked right after you and Ash finish the treehouse project in Henford, and we thought since Ash will be in the city with the Landgraabs until Easter's over, the timing was sort of perfect for once."

Conrad wavered. "Do you really think going to Selvadorada's the best idea right now? If they're upset we've got one of their own behind bars, I don't want you going to their jungle."

"You don't want me going?" She eyed him incredulously. "Since when are you in charge of me?"

"I don't mean it like that, Heather. It's just the cartel..."

"You said yourself you thought they'd dropped her."

"No, I hope they've dropped her. We haven't brought them in because we don't want them to think we're sniffing around at all."

"Conrad, I'm going. You have your camping trip with Ash and I need a vacation, too. Spencer's practically an expert in Selvadoradian culture and traditions and spends more time down there than you ever have," she argued. "We spent years promising each other Ximena wouldn't control our lives from wherever she was hiding, and she's not about to start now that we know exactly where she is!"

He backed off. Heather rarely got upset and he knew he'd touched a nerve. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just being paranoid, and I know you and Spencer can take care of yourselves down there. I've got to get to the station, but I love you."

She accepted a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, too. And wait:" She took a deep breath. "I know you just got back, there's a lot on your plate at work, and the treehouse project's just around the corner, but I'm on edge because Ash said he saw Ben and his dog after school yesterday. I don't think he believes they're ghosts, either."

Conrad flinched. "What do you mean, he saw them?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: There's no snow in the flower shop exterior shot because Conrad was in Ciudad Enamorada. He had just randomized in Media Naranja Park to pick up a suspect (unrelated technically, they were innocent of the in-game case so it didn't help his career points and wasn't a story canon pick-up). I haven't explored Ciudad Enamorada enough but I saw the flower shop and thought it was adorable. Suddenly, he needed to get flowers for Heather. And since he needs Melissa's help and she doesn't live in Ciudad Enamorada, voila the flower shop is in San Myshuno (which gets less snow than Brindleton Bay, anyway, and it's almost spring!)

NOTE 2: If Melissa is unrecognizable, that's because I lost the original (the game deleted her before I could save her after she appeared among the potential suspects for a crime Conrad was solving for gameplay that I turned into storyline). I tried to recreate her but it was hard so I played up how she's changed her appearance a bit since last seen. If this was a TV soap, there'd be a random voiceover when she appeared on camera: "The role of Melissa Ramsay will now be played by so-and-so."

WCIF Flower Shop: Since the flower shop in Media Naranja is a rabbit hole, I found this room on the Sims 4 Gallery by plumlala3 called Betty's Flower Shop. I thought the interior was really cute, stuffed with flowers, and felt small enough to somewhat represent the inside of the small shop in the park!

[princessconsuela120]

✰ SICKENING ✰

—✰

Summary: you catch a muggle illness, and Sebastian is insistent on being your doctor.

Warnings: protective Seb, cursing, fluff

Author's Note: I just love Seb so much. don't forget to vote on all my polls, enjoy guys!!!

—✰

“OMINIS, YOU KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO KEEP AN EYE ON ME.” You offered, pinching the bridge of your nose to relieve yourself of the tension in your head, having been tired of being smothered by the boys all day long. You had developed a muggle cold during your last trip to hogsmeade, and it seems that nothing can make it go away. You assume muggle medicines would be the only true solution, but Sebastian insisted he could cure you himself. When your boyfriend became a doctor you weren’t sure, but he seemed confident.

“Oh yes, I do.” Ominis detested, urging you to sit back down on the couch, tucking you into the blanket he conjured specifically to keep you warm. It seemed ominis was just as protective as Sebastian. When the two of you started dating you realized even more how important ominis was to you. He was like a brother to you, which proved true everytime Sebastian and Ominis fought to keep you safe.

“I’ve defeated thousands of trolls, I think I can handle a little cold.” You teased, making him chuckle as he sat beside you, touching the back of his palm to your forehead to check your temperature before handing you a warm cup of tea for the throat ache.

“Trust me, I know you can. But Sebastian won’t let me leave you by yourself.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, picturing the scolding tone Sebastian had used with you every time you suggested returning back to classes.

“Of course he won’t.”

“He’s gone insane since you’ve gotten sick.” Ominis explained, rolling his eyes at the thought of the freckled boy who had stressed about your wee cold since you started sneezing a week ago.

“I barely even have a fever anymore. He’s fed me 7 diftany leaves in my tea this morning to try and cure me.” You explained, as the two of you burst into laughter.

“His hearts in it, his minds just completely out the window.” Ominis teased, making you laugh harder, which only turned into a cough but you seemed it worth it.

“Isn’t it always?” You were about to continue before you heard loud footsteps, before the door to the room of requirements bursted open loudly, even startling the Chinese comping cabbages which leapt from their potting tables.

“Ominis!” He shouted, as you both turned your attention to him. “I told you to bring her soup at lunch time! What are you doing?!” Sebastian lectured, coming up to the two of you, his hands on his hips as he tapped his foot angrily.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s only 10am.” Ominis explained, furrowing his eyebrows at Sebastian’s worrying.

“Yes, which means y/n should be sleeping!”

“Sebastian, love, I’m alright really.” You tried to calm him down, holding a hand out to squeeze his hand to reassure him. He only gasped in response, holding a worried hand against your forehead.

“Oh god, she’s delirious.” He stressed, kneeling down in front of you as he looked at you with worried eyes.

“Are you sure you aren’t the one who’s sick?” You asked. However, your reassurance was cut short when you felt a prick in your throat and couldn’t help but cough. This of course heightened Sebastian’s worry immensely, making him sigh as he sat beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Lucky for you, I’ve decided to skip potions and flying today, so you have me all day.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“How on earth did Professor Weasley let you do that?”

“I had took a few exploding bonbon’s before Herbology, nearly knocked Professor Garlick’s venomous Tentaculas over. They thought I was sick, so I went with it.” He explained, laughing as he explained it. You giggled in response, snuggling into his side.

“You’re crazy.” You mummbled against his jumper, already snuggled into the jumper if his uou had been wearing since you were sick.

“Crazy for you my love.” He placed a kiss against your head as he gently ran his fingers down your arm to soothe you. “You’re good to go now ominis.” Sebastian offered, making Ominis sigh with relief, a look of annoyance on his face of the pda you two had been sharing.

“You two are sickening.” He mumbled as he left, causing you to laugh.

“Bye ominis!”

“Feel better!” He yelled after you, sending you a smile before leaving.

“So, the world is our oyster my love.” Sebastian said, gesturing out to express all the things you both could do.

“Oooo, let’s go skinny dip in the black lake.”

The look he gave you made you laugh if loud.

“Are you kidding? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He asked, holding his chest as you laughed, shoving him lightly.

“I was kidding, it’s just funny getting you like that.”

“How about this. How about a nice, warm, snuggle session. I can put on some music, and we can make sure you get the rest you need.” He explained, making you smile as you sighed happily.

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

“Anything for you my love.”

He waved his wand, starting a record player in the corner. The music soothed the both of you, your eyes closed as you slept against him. He was about to lean in to kiss you again, until he let out a sneeze, causing you both to roll your eyes.

“Oh great. I told you kisssing me was a bad idea.” You lectured, making him smirk.

“Dear, kissing you is never a bad idea.”

“Now your sick.”

“Well I guess now you get to ply sexy nurse.” He teased, wiggling his eyes brows, making you hit his chest at the remark. You then sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder again.

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not missing quidditch practice for you.” You grumbled, placing a finger hard on his chest.

“What if I ask really nicely?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you. You sighed, snuggling into him once more.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know. I am just the luckiest guy in Hogwarts aren't i?”

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness, knowing that you’d always have the most flirtatious boy in Hogwarts. But the truth of the matter was, he didn’t think he was lucky because he was cute. He knew he was lucky because he had you, and he was never going to let you go.

[winchesterwild78]

Unspoken Words pt 7

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, other characters

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, David’s court date, more fluff

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there. The daughter character is near and dear to my heart. I have someone very close to me who is nonverbal, but he’s such an amazing kid. 

*One more chapter after this. Features a time jump or two. *

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Jensen is single in this story. 

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

*Time Jump 3 months*

After coming back from California  I decided to move Lily and I in with Jensen. He was excited I agreed to it. Living with him in California felt perfect, like we were exactly where we were meant to be. 

Lily began talking more, and Jensen insisted on paying for a private speech therapist. I told him I was fine with the one she had been going to, but he wanted the best for her. 

I quickly realized it was pointless to argue with him about her wellbeing. He stepped into the role of dad without missing a beat. We were a united front when it came to Lily, but he also used his status and money to help fill in gaps. 

*Flash Back to the month after we left*

We flew back for the court date for David’s attempted kidnapping. Sarah watched Lily so Jensen and I could go. He was found guilty and sentenced to jail time. There was also a lifetime protective order put in place that prevented him from any contact with Lily, myself or Jensen. 

When we came home for the court date I was sick for days. Chalking it up to nerves, I did my best to ignore it. After a few days and heading back to California Jensen started to get more concerned.

“Baby, you’ve been sick since before we went to court. Maybe you should go to the doctor.” He was right, I knew he was. I was just being stubborn. 

“I can’t just drop what I’m doing and go to the doctor for a little bug. It’ll pass. It always does.”

Jensen just looked at me, “Baby, please. I’m worried about you. I’ll keep Lily and you go see Dr. Pickard. Please.” I sighed, “Okay. I’ll make an appointment.” 

The next day I was sitting in the doctor’s office. I checked in and sat in the lobby. A young woman was sitting to the left of me and kept looking at me. I just wanted to get in and out without issues or being recognized. 

The young woman leaned forward. I knew what was coming. “Excuse me, ma’am?” I turned and smiled, “Yes?” “I’m sorry to bother you, but are you dating Jensen Ackles?” I nodded, “Yes I am.” She grinned, “I thought that was you. It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Mary. Are you two getting married?” “It’s nice to meet you too, Mary, and I don’t know. He hasn’t asked, so I’m going to say no. Not right now.” “Oh, okay. Well maybe he will soon.” I smiled as my name was called, “Maybe. We haven’t been dating long, so we have time. You have a great day, Mary.” 

I walked to the back with the nurse and explained why I was there. She told me the doctor would be in soon and would let me know if any tests would be needed. I nodded and she left. 

Sitting in the room I felt really dizzy and sick. Dr Pickard came in and noticed I was sweating and was pale. “Ms Y/L/N, are you okay?” “No, I feel really dizzy and sick to my stomach.” 

She checked me over and asked some questions. “Okay, let me run some tests. The nurse will be in soon and take some blood, do some swabs for the flu and other illnesses, and we need to check for pregnancy.” 

I chuckled, “Wow, just checking everything, huh?” Dr Pickard looked at me, “Just trying to be thorough.” She left the room and the nurse came back in a few minutes later. They took my blood, she swabbed my nose and throat and had me pee in a cup. 

“I’m gonna run all this to the lab, we should have the results for everything except the blood work before you leave today. The doctor will be back shortly.” I nodded and thanked her. I pulled out my phone and sent Jensen a text. 

Me: I’ve been poked, prodded and swabbed. Waiting on some of the results. I’m being checked for flu or other things. I’ll keep you updated. How are you and Lily?

Jensen: Okay, hopefully they figure it out soon. I’m really worried about you, and we are fine. *1 image sent*

Jensen sent a picture of him with a princess tiara on and Lily in her princess dress. I laughed.

Me: aww look at the pretty princesses. I love you two

Jensen: We love you too, mommy. Come home soon.

Me: I will. TTYS

After about twenty minutes Dr Pickard came back in. “Well, Ms Y/L/N, you don’t have the flu or strep, your iron is a bit low and you're a little dehydrated, and you’re pregnant.” 

“I’m sorry, what? I’m pregnant? How did that happen?” She chuckled, “Um, I’m assuming you and your partner had sex. Maybe unprotected?” I sat thinking, no, Jensen and I were always so… “Oh, yeah. That one time over a month ago.” She chuckled, “That’s all it takes. So I’m prescribing some prenatal vitamins and I want you to schedule an appointment to get the baby checked.” 

“Okay. Thank you for everything.” My heart beat fast in my chest. I was pregnant. Jensen was the father. Would he be okay with this? We never really talked about children. How would Lily handle this?

My head was spinning by the time I got home. Jensen greeted me at the door with a hug and a smile. He saw the bag from the pharmacy and smiled. “So I see you have some medicine. I’m assuming the doctor found something?” 

I took a deep breath, “Yeah she did. Jensen, we need to talk.” He sat down beside me and took my hands in his, “Okay baby. Is everything okay?” 

With a shaky breath I looked at him, “Jensen, I’m okay. She didn’t find anything devastating, but what she did find is going to change our lives.” 

Jensen looked at me, eyes so full of love, “Okay, now you’re scaring me. Y/N, please just tell me.” 

Tears pricked my eyes, I was so scared. “Jensen, I’m pregnant.” He softly gasped. Silence filled the room and I didn’t know what to say or do. 

The longer the silence stretched on, the more anxious I got. I swallowed hard, and the tears started to fall.

“Jensen, please say something.” His voice barely above a whisper, “You’re pregnant?” I nodded. “Jensen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get pregnant. I know this isn’t something we talked about and I understand if you’re not ready. Lily and I can stay at our place and I won’t keep the baby from you if that’s what you want. I think Lily and I should go home. I’m so sorry Jensen.” 

I stood up quickly and walked towards the bedroom. The tears fell fast as I felt the bile rise in my throat. I walked into our bedroom and grabbed my suitcase. Jensen was hot on my heels. He grabbed my hand and spun me around. His lips crashed on mine in a heated kiss. 

I was shocked. When he pulled back he was smiling. “You’re pregnant. We’re having a baby!.” “Jensen, you’re not mad?” “What?! Why would I be mad? The love of my life is pregnant with our baby. Lily’s going to have a baby brother or sister. Oh sweetheart, please don’t leave. I want to be with you every step of the way.” 

I cried harder. I wasn’t expecting his reaction. He pulled me in his arms, “Shh baby. Don’t cry, please. I love you and I can’t wait to have this baby with you. I know you’ve been hurt in the past, but I promise I’m not going anywhere. You, Lily and this baby have me forever.” He wiped my tears away and placed a soft kiss on my lips. 

His hand rested on my stomach and he smiled. “I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am.” I took a shaky breath in and out, letting go of all the anxiety I was feeling. 

*Current Time*

I was heading to my doctor's appointment to check on the baby and Jensen was going with me. We had been back home in Texas for about a month and Lily and I were adjusting to living with Jensen. 

I was worried she would have a hard time adjusting to the new house, but she loved it. Jensen made sure he put a gate around the pool, and a safety cover on the pool just in case. He also had her a swing set built in the backyard. They both spent a lot of time outside in the backyard playing. I couldn’t wait for the baby to be old enough to play with Lily and Jensen. 

I stood at the full-length mirror in our bedroom and placed a hand on my belly. I was just starting to show more and I knew we couldn’t hide the pregnancy much longer. My biggest worry was telling Lily. I wasn’t sure how she’d react. 

Sarah and Steve knew I was pregnant. They were excited for us. The two of them were coming over to watch Lily while Jensen and I went to the doctor. 

I was too busy looking at my growing bump to notice Jensen standing at the door. He leaned against the doorframe and watched me with a smile on his face. 

He walked up behind me and snaked his arms around my waist, placing his hands on my belly. He kissed my cheek, “How’s my babies today?” I smiled and leaned into him, “We’re okay. I’m hungry, but what else is new.” He laughed, “We’ll get you a snack before we head out. What do you want?” 

“Hmm, pickles, peanut butter and apples sound delicious.” He chuckled, “Okay. I’ll get it and you finish getting ready.” I kissed his lips, “Thanks baby.” He nodded and smiled.

Lily knew something was different, but we hadn’t told her yet I was pregnant. We wanted to make sure everything was okay with the baby before we told her. The appointment today was going to include an ultrasound and measurement of the baby. I was about 3 months pregnant and so far the pregnancy was going well. 

Jensen was by my side through it all. He was in between filming schedules at the moment, so he was home. I knew he was leaving in about 3 weeks to head to Toronto for filming. We weren’t sure if Lily and I were going or staying home, honestly it depends on what the doctor told us. 

Sarah and Steve arrived to watch Lily and Jensen and I were about to leave to go to the appointment. I was nervous but excited. This would be the first ultrasound and I was happy Jensen was going to be there for it. 

Sarah gave me a hug and told me she couldn’t wait to see the baby when we got back. Lily looked at me and Sarah and whispered, “baby?”

I looked at Sarah and she mouthed, “sorry”. I just nodded. 

I took a deep breath and sat Lily down. Jensen sat beside her. “Lily, sweetheart. Mommy and Jensen have something we want to tell you. You know how mommy has been sick and going to the doctor a lot? Well, mommy has a baby in her tummy. You’re going to be a big sister.” 

Lily sat beside Jensen and I very still. She looked up at me, then down to my stomach, then up at Jensen. Tears filled her little eyes and she started to cry. I pulled her on my lap but she wiggled free and went to her room. 

I started to follow her, but Sarah told me she’d go so we weren’t late. I wanted to go and see her, but I had to get to the appointment too. 

“Y/N, honey. I’ll take care of her. You go check on the little bean.” I nodded and Jensen and I left. 

The ride to the doctor’s office was quiet. I was worried about Lily and felt a pang of guilt for leaving like I did. Jensen sensed my uneasiness and took my hand in his. 

“Hey, she’s going to be okay. Take a deep breath.” “I know Jensen, she was just so upset and I left. What kind of mother does that?”

“Y/N, don’t do that. You’re an amazing mother. Lily is safe with Sarah, and we had to get to this appointment. I know you’re upset, but she’s going to be okay, I promise.”

I nodded and wiped the tears that started to fall away. We arrived at the doctor’s office and got checked in. 

The nurse checked my vitals and everything she needed to do. She asked how I’d been and told me the doctor would be in soon. Jensen stood beside the exam table and held my hand. 

The doctor came in, did their exam and got me ready for the ultrasound.

I was so excited and nervous to see the baby. She put the gel on my belly and commented that she was surprised I was showing as much as I was. I thought it was an odd statement to make, but brushed it off as my eyes were glued to the monitor. 

The doctor had a puzzled look on their face and kept looking at the monitor with an unreadable look on their face. I started to get nervous. “Hmm, that’s interesting.” 

I looked at her and then at Jensen. He saw my distress, “What’s interesting?” He asked her. “One second, let me just check one more thing. Hmm, yep. Okay.” 

Jensen looked at the screen, at her and then at me, “Is everything okay with the baby?” I started to panic a little because I wasn’t hearing a heartbeat. “Why don’t I hear a heartbeat?! Jensen, what’s wrong with the baby?!”

The doctor turned to us and offered a soft smile. I felt the bile rising in my throat. She flipped a switch on the machine and I heard the heartbeat. I let out the breath I was holding. 

“Everything looks great. The heartbeats are strong and it looks like growth is on target. You both can relax. It looks like both of them are perfectly healthy.” 

Jensen leaned down and kissed me and I turned back to the doctor to thank her, then it hit both of us. “Wait, what?! Heartbeats? Both?” She chuckled, “Congratulations, you’re having twins, and from the looks of it they are fraternal.” 

Jensen chuckled, “Wow, we’re adding two babies to the family.” He kissed me again. I was filled with joy and then a wave of anxiety hit me. I was worried how Lily would handle the news of twins. 

The doctor gave us pictures and we made our next appointment. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pictures. I clearly saw two babies in the pictures. 

On the way home my hand rested on my stomach as my mind drifted to what life would be like with three children. 

“Whatcha thinking about darlin’?” Jensen asked, breaking the silence in the car. “Just the babies and Lily. I don’t know how she’s going to feel about two babies. I’m just worried about her.” 

He took my hand, “Hey, I get it. It might be hard for her at first, but she’s going to be a great big sister. When Mackenzie was born I wasn’t thrilled at first, but after a bit I loved her and protected her. Lily is going to be the same way.” “I hope so.”

When we got home We shared the news with Sarah and Steve and they both were excited. I asked Sarah where Lily was and she said in her room. “I talked to her, but I don’t know if it did any good. I’m sorry Y/N.” 

I touched her arm, “No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. We will talk to her. Thank you both for watching her.” 

Sarah nodded, hugged me goodbye and she and Steve left. I walked to Lily’s bedroom door and found her sitting on her bed holding her squirrel stuffy. 

I walked in and sat on the bed, “Lily, honey, we’re home. Do you want to see a picture of the baby?” She turned her back to me. It broke my heart. I touched her arm, “Baby, look at mommy, please.” 

She turned away and grunted at me. Jensen walked in and saw it. He walked up to me, touched my shoulder and motioned for me to come on. I looked at Lily and then back at him. I got up and left her room.

I started crying, “She’s so mad at me, Jensen. What am I going to do?” He pulled me in his arms and held me, “Hey, it’s okay. You get a snack and rest, I’ll talk to her.” I nodded and walked downstairs.

Jensen walked in her room and sat on the bed, “Hey baby girl. Will you look at me?” She turned further away. He put his hand on her shoulder, “Hey, Lily girl. Please look at me.” 

She slowly rolled over and looked at him. Her big beautiful eyes red from crying. “No love Lily.” Jensen’s heart broke. He immediately pulled her in his lap and held her tight, “Oh sweet girl, no. Just because mommy is having a baby doesn’t mean we don’t love you anymore. We will always love our Lily girl. You’re our first baby, our first princess. We love you and love the new baby too. Just like you can love mommy and love me.” 

She looked up at him and he wiped her tears away. “Love Lily?” “Of course we do. Forever and always. Do you want to see a picture of the baby?” She cautiously nodded. Jensen pulled out the ultrasound picture he had and showed Lily. “So, Lily, mommy has two babies in her belly. We don’t know if they are boys or girls, but there are two of them.” She smiled and held the picture looking it over. “Babies?” Jensen chuckled, “Yes, babies.” 

She climbed out of his lap and ran to her closet. When she came back over she had a duck toy and handed it to Jensen, “For baby.” Jensen smiled and kissed the top of her head, “Come on sweet girl, let’s give it to mommy.” 

Jensen carried Lily downstairs and to me. She hugged me and handed me the duck. I was a little confused. “She said it’s for the babies.” I smiled and nodded. 

Lily sat beside me and looked at my belly. “Babies?” I placed my hand on my stomach, “Yes, mommy has two babies in her belly.” Lily looked at Jensen and then back at me. She slid closer to me, placed her hand softly on my stomach and then leaned down and kissed my belly. 

My breath hitched and I looked at Jensen. He smiled and said, “See I told you, best big sister ever.” 

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[kyleoreillylover]

Finn Balor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Finn takes care of his very sick and stubborn girl.

You lay in your locker room, your body aches and lump in your throat weighing you down and making you feel like you ran a marathon. The harsh bright lights felt harsh against your tired eyes, and the room's cold ass temperature did nothing to help your already freezing body. In just a few hours, you were supposed to be in the ring, giving your all in the ring and to the fans watching. But right now, all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep off your sickness for the next few days.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the screen. It was a message from Liv. She was due to wrestle tonight as well, and you'd both been looking forward to catching up before the show.

"Liv's probably excited to see me," you muttered to yourself, trying to summon the energy to get up.

As you struggled to put on your ring gear, the door to your locker room creaked open, and in walked Liv. "Hey, girl! Ready to kick some ass tonight?" she cheered, her voice full of enthusiasm.

"You know it, babe." You answered, managing a weak smile, but Liv's sharp eyes caught your dull ones and the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. "Sweetie, are you okay? You look a bit... off," she observed, concern etching her features.

You quickly brushed off her worry. "I'm just a little tired, Liv. I'll be fine once I get in the ring," you assured, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

Liv wasn't convinced. She stepped closer, her brow furrowing as she reached out and felt your forehead. "You're burning up! Why didn't you say anything, dummy?"

You avoided her gaze, trying to shrug off her concern. There was nothing scarier than an angry protective Liv. "It's nothing, Liv. Just a little fever. I've wrestled through worse."

But Liv was having none of it. She pushed you gently until you were seated and then slipped off her leather jacket. "Here, put this on. You're shivering."

You tried to refuse, but Liv was insistent. She draped the jacket over your shoulders and she gently pushed you down onto the locker room bench. "Sit. I'm getting you some water."

You sighed but complied, watching as Liv filled a cup with water from the nearby sink. She handed it to you and then scurried off to grab a box of tissues.

Liv returned and sat down next to you, worry etched across her face. "You're not going out there tonight, okay? I don't care what you say."

You sighed again but didn't argue. "Just let me finish getting ready. I'll be fine."

Liv shot you a disapproving look. "I'm telling Finn."

Your eyes widened, panic setting in. "No! Liv, promise me you won't tell Finn. He'll worry, and he's got his own match to focus on."

Liv hesitated but ultimately nodded. "Fine, but only because you're going to promise me that if you feel any worse, you'll pull out of the match."

You agreed reluctantly, and Liv gave you a reassuring pat on the back before excusing herself to head to her own locker room. Little did you know, Liv was more concerned about you than you realized.

As you continued to get ready, there was a knock at your locker room door. You assumed it was Liv returning with more supplies, so you called for her to come in without looking up.

The door opened, but instead of Liv's cheerful voice, you heard Finn's concerned one. "Luv? Liv told me you're not feeling well. Are you okay?"

You froze, slowly turning to face him, your pale face now visible. Finn's eyes widened with worry as he rushed over to you, his hand gently touching your forehead.

"You're burning up," he whispered, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine, Finn," you mumbled weakly, trying to downplay your illness.

Finn wasn't having it. He scooped you up into his arms, ignoring your protests, and began carrying you out of the locker room.

"Finn! Put me down!" you exclaimed, but your voice came out shaky and small.

Finn ignored you and carried you to the medical area. The doctors there confirmed that you were indeed running a fever and advised you not to wrestle tonight. Finn nodded in agreement and helped you back into your regular clothes.

Once you were bundled up and ready to go, Finn gently scolded you as he drove you back to your place. "You should have told me sooner, Luv. You don't have to be so stubborn. I care about your well-being more than any match."

You sighed and leaned your head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Finn. I just didn't want to worry you."

Finn pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'd rather know and take care of you. Now, let's get you home and rest up. I'll make you some soup."

As you nestled into Finn's warm embrace, you couldn't help but smile. You were thankful for him (and for Liv too) and there must've been a God or angel up there that liked you because you didn't know how Finn had the patience to keep putting up with your stubborn ass. You didn't like being taken care of by anyone, usually settling for pushing through whatever it was you were dealing with, but Finn was slowly undoing all of that, teaching you that it didn't hurt to be taken care of once in a while. And you couldn't have been more grateful for that.

[lemon-russ]

The sapphic spirit possesed me and I just can't stop thinking about big gold muscle mommies today. Inspired by? Learned about the idea of? Aquillian Shield Custodes from This post by @moodymisty which has been in my brain. Then I was like, gasp, it could be g a y. Going to be multi-part bc I can't seem to rush smut and need sapphic pining first I guess.

Thank you @squishyowl for the divider!

Tags: @bispecsual @ms--lobotomy

Emperor's Saint (Pt. 1)

Pt. 2

Fem!Custodes x Fem!Reader

CW: GAY, SUPER SAPPHIC GAY

Summary: A diplomat of the Ultramarines, you've been chosen to receive the protection of an Aquillian Shield. Congratulations! you do not have a choice :)

Word count: 1,994

She appeared out of nowhere while you were preparing to leave for a meeting one day.

Nearly as tall as a primarch, golden armor shining, carrying an intricately decorated spear. She told you she was your Aquilian sheild, and you have been deemed important enough to need guarding. She would not say how long, or what you were meant to do, only that she was going to be hanging around 24/7 watching you until you completed whatever you were meant to accomplish.

Lord Guilliman said it was an honor to have one of the Adeptus Custodes personally guard you, so you tried to go about business as usual.

Heraclast, as she introduced herself, became your constant companion. Constant.

“Hera…” you groan tiredly, sitting up in your bed. “Must you guard me from in here…?” You ask. She’s polishing her helmet, her chin length warm brown hair falling around her face on the side that wasn’t shaved short. She looks up at you, pursing her lips.

“Of course, my Lady. What if dangers came to you while you sleep and are most vulnerable?” She says.

You pout. “Don’t you sleep…?” You ask. She insisted on staying with you while you were on this new planet to have your meeting, but you can’t fall asleep with her watching you. It made you, well, shy. Having a nine foot tall goddess of a warrior watching you snore? Emperor forbid you talk in your sleep.

She shakes her head, “No, my Lady. I can go weeks or months without sleep and perform perfectly.” She says, going back to polishing her gleaming pointy helmet.

Great.

You sigh and lay down, starting at the ceiling. You glance back over at her, sitting on a bed that is straining under the weight of her armor. Her face has a long scar from chin to hairline, and her eyes are so green they are almost luminescent in the dimly lit room. Or maybe they are? Who knows, Custodes were an enigma. Hardly seen outside the Palace until Guilliman returned, and more rare to see out of helmet, let alone armor. Their genetic modifications were even more intricate than their Astartes cousins, so Emperor only knows if they actually have glow in the dark eyes to go with their stunningly perfect looks.

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling, trying to not get hypnotized by how her hands look carefully polishing the gold. You definitely should not be thinking about those hands anywhere else. Especially not on you. Or under your nightgown. Which you had to change into with her in the room, which did not help any of this.

“My Lady?” Heraclast asks, making you jump a little as you’re pulled from your thoughts. “Your face has become feverish. Are you ill? I can vox for the best apothecaries to be here in under an hour-” she offers.

“No!” You interupt, blushing more. “No- I’m fine, I’m not sick.” You say tiredly, covering your face with a pillow.

She is quiet a moment, then you hear her go back to polishing, the rhythmic sound acting like white noise and helping you relax slightly. You pull the pillow off your face, rolling on your side to face her, trying to not look like you’re staring.

She glances up again, brow knit. “…Would my Lady sleep better if I sat over there, facing away?” She asks.

You blush, but think about it. She at least wouldn’t be staring you down that way. You nod a little, and she smiles, pulling over stool and sitting back down in front of your bed, back to you. You relax a bit not being directly in her sight, and then try not to think about how close she now sits. You stare at her back, partially covered by the purple cape of an Aquillian Shield, and try not to imagine what she looks like under it.

You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the sound of her polishing, and eventually finally fall asleep.

The next morning you yawn, stretch, and then open your eyes and nearly jump out of bed. Heraclast looks up at you, confused. You look back at her, face burning red. She’s half armored, chest plate and shoulder armor removed and sitting sparkling and polished on the bed.

“My Lady? Are you well?” She asks, turning to you more and making you more flustered. She only has a tight wrap covering her chest, her sculpted abs and arms uncovered. You notice more than a few scars, one on the stomach looks like it was especially bothersome, but try and look away.

“I- I thought Custodes d-didn’t take their armor off-” you stammer out.

She tilts her head a little. “You are safe, my Lady, do not worry. I secured the area thoroughly before undressing, and only have been polishing a couple pieces at a time. Even without all my armor I am more than capable of protecting you-”

“Okay, Okay” you stop her, trying to look anywhere but at her tanned, toned abs, and why are they wet?? Her undercut was also damp, and in your desperate attempt to avoid her you see a wash bucket and cloth and realize she must have bathed. Which makes you even more flustered to imagine.

She frowns a bit, and your heart actually palpitates when you accidentally meet her emerald eyes again, full of concern now. She thankfully pulls on a tight silk shirt and starts re-fastening her chest armor.

“You really look unwell, my Lady. If you are feverish we should get you to the Apothecary.” She says, voice worried.

You frown, expression tight as you watch the way her arm muscles roll and flex as she lifts the heavy plates of armor and starts putting them back on. You swallow hard and will your breath to be even.

“I’m f-fine, really.” You say with a sigh, rubbing your hot face with your hands.

She looks unconvinced, but finishes armoring anyways. She steps into the next room briefly and brings you a wash tub, cloth, and soap. “Very well. I took the liberty of fetching you some cleaning supplies when I got my own.” She says with a smile, walking back to the other bed and sitting on it with a creak.

You frown, looking between the bucket and Heraclast. She looks unperturbed.

“Hera, I can’t wash with you looking at me.” You squeak out.

She frowns. “Why not?” She asks, looking genuinely confused. You frown deeper.

She scrunches her brow and purses her lips. “…Very well, I shall turn away if that helps you, my Lady.” She says, sounding confused but turning to the wall anyways.

Throne damned Custodes, haven’t been outside a palace in 10,000 years and forgot about things like human shame about naked bodies. Or maybe that is just something that was erased with their transformations. You sigh and start undressing as little as possible while still being able to wash.

After a minute Heraclast speaks up again, “Oh, today you have that meeting, yes? Shall I help you with your hair? I am quite skilled at braids from helping the other Custodians-” she says happily, turning a bit to look at you.

You yelp and cover your chest. She frowns and turns back. “Ah, yes, apologies.” She says, scratching her hair. “It is nudity you don’t want me to see, then? I will try and keep that in mind, though I don’t understand why you would hide the majesty of the human form-”

”Hera please” you groan, going back to washing.

She lets out a small “hmph.” But continues looking at the wall.

You sigh and finish up, washing as quickly as you can, then kneel down to wash your hair. “You can look now…” you grumble, dipping your hair forward in the bucket and scrubbing.

She happily turns back to you. “As I was saying, I am very good at intricate braids, If you would like. Many of my battle siblings keep long hair and braid it into crowns.” She says, moving to a stool near you to sit closer.

You glance up at her, smiling down at you, sun from the window sparkling off the intricate jewels and filigree on her armor. She looks so excited to help. You gulp.

“…Sure, why not.” You relent, rinsing your hair.

She beams, pulling her stool over to you and grabbing a towel and hairbrush from nearby. “Excellent, I think you shall make a grand impression on these important nobles with your hair orderly.” She says in a chipper tone.

She picks you up under the arms, making you squeak in surprise, and plops you on a pillow on the ground in front of her facing away, between her legs. Your face grows warm again as she starts to towel off your hair for you, humming happily. *By the throne you weigh nothing to her, she just picked you up like a stuffed animal*- No, don’t think about how easily she can toss you around, stop getting flustered, you chide yourself.

She starts carefully but efficiently detangling and brushing your hair, the feeling of the brush on your scalp and her playing with your hair sending a shiver down your spine.

“Hmph. Now you have chills to go with your fever.” She says with concern. “It is alright if you need to rest today, my Lady, I will not allow them to give you trouble about it.”

You try and focus hard on a plant across the room, “I’m fine.” You force out as she starts running her un-gauntleted fingers over your scalp, catching locks of hair and gently tugging them into braids.

She hums another unconvinced noise but doesn’t press you farther. She is quick with her braiding, fingers grazing your neck and shoulders as she works, the gentle touches making you get goosebumps. You start counting the leaves on the plant to occupy your mind and not just melt into a puddle on the floor.

“You have very well kept hair, my Lady. I’ve never been one to keep it long myself, gets in the way of my helmet, but I appreciate my Custodes siblings who do keep long hair. I’ve always admired the look of it on others.” She chatted happily.

You bite your lip. She likes long hair on others? She likes your hair? Does she think you’re- No, stop being ridiculous, you’re pretty sure Custodes can’t even feel attraction. Probably. If they did, they have all the other Custodes to be attracted to anyway, literally the most beautiful of humanity regardless of gender.

She runs her hands over your hair again before patting your shoulder and making a satisfied hmph. “There, all done.” She said, handing you a mirror.

You take it and your eyes go wide. She’s given you perfectly smooth, intricate braids forming a crown around your head, one even making a little flower shape over your ear, and the rest of your hair free and down, neatly brushed to not have a hair out of place.

“Wow.” You say, looking at her in the mirror as she smiles down over your head. “This is amazing, Hera.” You say, smiling at her reflection.

She beams proudly. “I am glad you enjoy it. Come, you should dress, your gowns have many complex layers.” She says, patting your shoulder again before she stands. “I must go do my bi-hourly parimeter scan, I expect to be finished in 6 and a half minutes. I know you dislike being seen unclothed, so you have that time to dress to a comfortable level.” She says, donning her helmet and picking up her spear.

You blink in surprise as she walks out, then scramble to start getting dressed.

[joaniscruzing]

stars between us - ch.8 - h.c.

currently writing the last chapter/epilogue you guys 😭 I'm so sad this is ending, i absolutely loved writing this (ill start a new series soon i promise you guys) my inspiration to write a first time arc was inspired by @rubycruzin4abruzin and her recent fic, Forbidden Crown. (which y'all should read if you haven't, it's so fucking good) if you want to be tagged in the epilogue, comment! and my requests are always open :)

summary: you and hazel have your first time after your date.

contains: fingering, top!hazel, bottom!reader, a bit of praise, fluff, cuteness, first time, hand holding

Hazel walks you into her house, the two of you still smiling stupidly from the events only minutes before.

You and Hazel. Dating. It still felt unreal to you. The girl you met, and clicked instantly with only a few days, is your girlfriend.

“Are you okay?” Hazel asks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yeah, of course.” you reply, turning around to face Hazel. She walks a little closer to you, close enough that you can see the smaller details on her face.

“Hi.” you whisper in a low voice.

“Hi.” You put your arms on Hazel’s shoulders wrapping your hands around her neck.

“Can I kiss you?” Hazel asks. You nod quickly, leaning in and closing your eyes. Her lips crash into yours. The two of you begin kissing, trying to find a more comfortable place to go as you do so. You two decide to stop kissing in order to go up to her room. She closes and locks her door and immediately turns around to kiss you again. You lead her to the bed, and she sits down on it. You get on top of her, straddling her hips. You pull her in closer by her chains, causing a small moan to escape her lips and vibrate upon yours. She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, asking for access. You accept, parting your lips a bit. All you can think about is how good Hazel was with her tongue. You pull her in by the chains again, wanting to be as close to her as possible. Hazel’s hands leave your thighs and creep under your shirt, feeling your bare waist. You pull away.

“Can I take my shirt off?” Hazel nods eagerly, surprised by this sudden advance of yours. You took your shirt off, revealing your black lace bra. She looks at your tits, wide-eyed, and thoughtless.

“You’re just pretty everywhere, huh?” Hazel says after a few seconds of silence. You kiss her again, cupping her face.

“Can I take off your shirt, Haze?” you whisper in her ear. She nods eagerly. You slide off her bowler’s jacket and unbutton her button-down, looking her in the eyes the whole time. You slide her unbuttoned shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. You kiss her shoulder.

“You seem to be pretty beautiful everywhere too, you know that?” You ask Hazel. She smiles, kissing you again. She leaves your lips and kisses your cheek, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck to your collarbone.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Hazel asks, stopping.

“I’m already your girlfriend, just to remind you.” Hazel rolls her eyes at this comment and presses her forehead to yours.

“Can I make you feel good, if that’s okay with you?” You nod, getting up to remove your pants. Hazel jumps off of the bed to help you. She insists that she helps you take all of your clothes off. She unclips your bra, kissing both of your tits before laying you down on her bed. Her gentleness makes your heart melt, and a lot more comfortable. The way she looked at you, however, as if you were the hottest person in the room, which you were to her, or as if she was proud of herself for having you all to herself, which you were, only made you wetter.

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” Hazel admits, stopping. You sit up and put a hand on Hazel’s shoulder.

“Me neither. But that’s okay. We can learn together, right?” Hazel smiles and kisses you again.

“You don’t feel like forced to do this, right?”

“Hazel, trust me. If I didn’t want to do this, I would’ve told you, like last time.” Hazel takes a moment to think back to a few days ago, when you had stopped her.

“I trust you. But let me know if you want me to stop, alright?” You nod in agreement.

“I want to hear you say it. I need you to promise me, okay?” Hazel begs, every ounce of her being wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I promise I’ll let you know if I want you to stop.” Hazel lies you down again, leaving a trail of kisses down your torso. She pushes your legs apart, spreading them and revealing your dripping pussy.

“Did I make you this wet?” she asks, somewhat surprised. You nod, too nervous to get out any words. As comfortable as you felt around Hazel, this was still your first time, and you still were a bit nervous, having never done this before.

“Okay. What do you like? Do you want me to like finger you, or eat you out?”

“I’m uh, fine with either? Whatever you want.”

“I’m gonna finger you. Is that okay?” Hazel asks, looking up at you. She notices the trace of anxiety on your face, and gets an idea. She grabs your hand with the hand she wasn’t planning on using, and holds it. You begin to feel less tense when she does this, your performance anxiety beginning to calm down a tad.

Hazel teases her finger through your folds with her other hand, circling your clit a few times, very lightly. Due to a few solo experiences, Hazel had a sense of what she was doing, making the experience a bit easier as well.

“Hazel, please don’t tease,” you beg, becoming unraveled already.

“Patience, honey. You’ll like it more, I promise.” Your cheeks burn at the nickname, causing you to wonder where the hell Hazel even got the idea to call you that in the first place. Hazel inserts her middle finger inside of you, curling inside, and hitting your g-spot immediately. Your walls tighten around her fingers instantly, to which she took great notice of.

“Can I add another finger?” Hazel asks, to which you nod again. The thumb of the hand that’s holding yours rubs your hand as she inserts another finger inside of you. She begins to pick up her pace, causing whatever noises you had been making before to only grow in volume. She decided to move herself a bit, so the two of you would be in eye contact.

“Is this good?” she asks, wanting to making you feel as good as possible.

“Hazel.” you whine, unable to form a sentence.

“That good? Really?” she asks, a bit surprised at this development. You nod in response to her rhetorical questions. Subconsciously, as you reached your climax, you began squeezing Hazel’s hand tighter.

“Are you close?” Hazel asks, taking note of your hand squeezing.

“Yeah,” you barely get out, before Hazel begins to speed up even more.

“Come on, you can do it. You’ve done really good, I mean it,” Hazel whispers in your ear. Right after, you release all over her hand, moaning loudly. Hazel slowed down her ministrations, wanting you to feel every bit of pleasure possible before removing her hand. Once you came down from your high, she removed her fingers from inside you, studying how your juices looked on her fingers. Curiosity took ahold of her, causing her to insert a finger in her mouth and taste you.

“Do I taste good?” you ask curiously. Hazel nods.

“How are you doing right now?” Hazel asks.

“Can I make you feel good in return?” you ask, sitting up on the bed. Hazel hesitates for a second, contemplating your request.

“I don’t feel like doing it tonight, but maybe another time? I’m just really tired and want to cuddle with you for the rest of the night.”

“Just let me know when you want to, and I’ll be ready. And yes. Of course we can cuddle.” Hazel smiles to this gesture.

“I’m going to wash my hands and make us some tea, okay? And you can get a t-shirt or something from my closet, it’s right over there, okay? And I have some face wash and lotion in the bathroom if you want to wash your face or something.” You kiss Hazel gently.

“That sounds perfect.”

Hazel gets up from the bed to do what she’d say she’d do. You get up and go to the bathroom, so you wouldn’t get a UTI by accident. You wash your face, and apply a bit of lotion on your face and hands. You choose a simple, oversized t-shirt from Hazel’s closet and put your panties back on. Hazel comes back in the room with two cups of chamomile tea, to which you smile, since Hazel remembered that that was your favorite tea. The two of you drink your tea, and then cuddle under her covers, watching a movie. Your head laid on her chest, hearing her heart beat, as she combed her fingers through your hair. The two of you fell asleep rather quickly, getting one of the best sleeps the two of you had ever gotten.

You truly were the happiest with Hazel.

taglist: @at1nyzen@slaughtercarrie@sophia2414@canmargesimpson@sam-cooperrr@rubycruzin4abruzin

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Night terrors; Mild illness; Minor sexual themes; Allusions to abuse; Mention of scars

A/N: I somehow banged this out with a migraine and a horrible bout of depression, so it may receive further editing. If I change anything major, I’ll highlight it and make it known that there is new content. I’m never confident about my work but even less so this time. This slow-burn is really burning slow because our two damaged, adorable idiots. But they’re making progress! Thanks for sticking with me anyway. 💙

Carol was able to pull Daryl aside early the following morning. When she stopped just below the top step, she could see you were sound asleep on the mattress, curled in on yourself in a way she hadn’t seen for a while. Her heart ached with the knowledge that your trust in her had been damaged, if not destroyed, by two loathsome snakes. 

Beside you, atop a sleeping bag on the floor, Daryl was awake with one arm behind his head while the other hand was busy twirling a bolt between his fingers. He already knew she was there, that came as no surprise. He held a finger to his lips that moved to make a shooing motion as he quietly got to his still booted feet. Carol descended and waited on the bottom step. 

His hand came to rest on the small of her back to guide her to the main door and outside. No way he’d risk anyone overhearing this conversation. 

“What’s up, Pookie?” She grinned at him when he scowled and grumbled under his breath. Why she insisted on calling him that was beyond him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. Maybe it had just settled into their own form of banter and he didn’t really mind at all. That’s not why he was here though!

Focus, dumbass. “Need to talk ‘bout Y/N.” He felt his cheeks begin to warm, finding himself pleading with any deity that it was too early and there was too little light for her to see. 

“So I gathered after that hug I saw.” His gaze snapped up to hers, more surprised than angry. She was immediately holding up her hands to bid him pause. “I wasn’t snooping! I had just come inside and you apparently were so wrapped up—literally—that you didn’t notice me.”

He held his intensity briefly before he deflated. “Th’fuck am I doin’, Carol?” He valued her opinion. She hardly ever steered him wrong, fearing he’d be hurt either emotionally or physically and that was not something she was willing to risk. He knew that. 

“I told you before. I think you like her. Here, sit down.” He huffed a breath through his nose but obliged nonetheless, climbing on top of a table with his boots on the bench. Carol took her place beside him. “I think you’re feeling connected with her somehow. Maybe like you and me.”

“Nah. Well—maybe.” He growled and propped his elbows on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair in frustration. “I know I want ‘er to be safe, wanna protect ‘er. Feel responsible for ‘er.”

“If you’re asking my honest opinion, and I think you are or I wouldn’t be out here right now, I don’t think this is a question of responsibility, Daryl.” He let his left hand drop and tipped his head to face her, fingers of his right hand still in his hair. “You want to be her friend and even though she’s scared, she wants that too.”

The archer opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a clicking of teeth. He suddenly felt self conscious, worried that his best friend, of all people, would judge him for the explicit thoughts he was having about you. He decided quickly that he wouldn’t divulge that portion of his plight. It made most of the conversation asinine but why did he ever think he could fess up to something so perverse? 

“I don’t think spending a little more time with her would be such a bad thing. If anything, maybe you could help her feel safe again.” Carol looked down at her hands, picking idly at her nails. 

“Ya gonna try an’ patch things up with ‘er?” Truthfully, he was grateful to take the focus off of himself for even a moment. 

Carol nodded, looking out over the trees at the first light of the morning that began to stretch across the sky. “Yeah, I will. Maybe when she’s in a better headspace.” 

Daryl tipped his chin down in a nod, unable to manage any words of support before the prison door burst open. Maggie called out, most likely for him, but he was already moving at the sound of your screams, passing over the threshold in only a few large strides. He cleared two steps at a time on his way up, no hesitation before kneeling beside the mattress. 

Nightmares were a part of trauma with which he was intimately familiar. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N. Wake up, girl.” He made sure not to touch you. The presence of hands on you when caught between awake and asleep after a night terror would result in nothing good. He knew from experience. Your head rolled back and forth, tears cascading down your temples, your face red from screaming though you had quieted to moans and whimpers. 

“She woke up the whole prison.” Carl muttered from beside Rick on the steps, clearly annoyed. 

Distantly, Judith had begun to wail; several voices were raised. Daryl turned toward the audience gathered in his space, the discontentment in his glare enough to send them scattering to do damage control. Carol stayed behind, her presence acting as an anchor when he seemed to falter. 

He blocked out everything else, his entire focus on you. He usually woke from his nightmares on his own and retreated, but watching you struggle—watching you suffer—wasn’t something he could sit idly by and do nothing to at least try and help you. It was a long shot, but he carefully leaned across to where you laid, as close to your ear as he could get without touching, and whispered so low that Carol could only watch his mouth move. 

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul an’ sings the tune without the words an’ never stops at all.” 

He felt ridiculous once the first word fell from his lips, but when you began to settle, he blinked and watched you for any indication that you would wake or fall back into your terror. You did neither. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he stood, careful not to disturb the mattress. 

Carol appeared just as surprised. “What’d you say to her?”

It was a reflex to become defensive but the sharp words died on his tongue. Had it been anyone else, surely he wouldn’t have held back. He never meant to be cold or cruel to anyone. It was in his hardwiring, and he had been actively attempting to alter the circuitry since finding a place within the group. 

“Was a, uh—a thing I read once in school. Kinda stuck with me. Ain’t important.” He was scratching the back of his head absentmindedly, more concerned with the flush he knew had assumed residence on his cheeks. 

Carol leaned around him to see you snoring softly. She smirked and patted his cheek, leaving him there to go help with the calamity in the cells. He was chewing his thumbnail seconds after her departure, watching you from the top of the stairs. 

He removed his boots there, afraid the noise would disrupt your newfound peace. A sudden exhaustion settled over him, his sleeping bag feeling like the plushest mattress at the fanciest hotel— not that he knew what that felt like anyway. He assumed it would probably be more of a distraction than a comfort. He’d rather have a cot or the hard ground deep in the wilderness any day. 

Daryl stared at the high ceilings, barely visible in the darkness that had consumed the space without the flashlights and candles of the perturbed residents. Try as he might to focus on the most trivial things, his thoughts continued to circle back to you. 

There was a rustling of fabric and he let his head roll toward the mattress. You had turned toward him, face still relaxed in peaceful slumber. His blue eyes narrowed, the pinched expression he always had when trying to piece something together. Rolling over, he turned his back to you and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

He was beyond fucked. 

Over the span of the next week, you could take apart a gun, clean it, and put it back together. You struggled with remembering the order of reassembling at first but, to your pleasant surprise, Daryl was alarmingly patient. His jaw would tick once in a while, obviously holding back the urge to rush you. You had smiled gratefully, stifling a giggle at his mumbled curse. 

You still hadn’t spoken, aside from the first day in Daryl’s perch. No, not even to him. He didn’t seem to mind but you caught the few times he’d speak and look at you from the corner of his eye, almost like he was hopeful that what he’d said would merit a verbal response. 

Regardless, it was as if your voice had just locked itself away somewhere dark in the fissures scattered across your mind. You were even more damaged, more broken than before. 

When Daryl was leaving to hunt, you tried to follow. It was one of the few times in this new dynamic between the two of you that he seemed to lose the composure he had gradually been building around you. 

“Hell nah! Ain’t takin’ ya out there an’ babysittin’ ya when ya don’ know shit ‘bout whatcha doin’ in here! Get on back inside!” 

You flinched away with your lip quivering. He didn’t apologize. With a growl of annoyance, he yelled for the gate to be opened and stomped into the forest. His demeanor was different when he returned, a few rabbits in hand. After prepping and dropping off his kills with Carol, he approached you and said it was time for you to become familiar with a gun. 

You thought that pointing and firing was the jist of it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just like the ‘stab and pull’ at the fence, you would now ‘disassemble and reassemble’. It wasn’t clear to you why learning this step was important but if Daryl was uncompromising in teaching you, then you would learn. 

You worked hard to familiarize yourself with the weapons, scrutinizing each surface, weighing them in your hands, meticulously examining the parts to see how they fit together. You’d catch the archer watching you while he busied himself with other projects; sharpening his knives, carving bolts, tending to his crossbow. There were a few times that you could have sworn you’d seen him smile. 

The man had become a steady presence, allowing you to follow him and learn the more hands-on aspects of protecting the prison. Once you had healed and felt like accompanying him outside, he had trained you for another day with your knife before allowing you to start helping him clear the fences daily. The meals he didn’t skip were spent eating silently beside you, disappearing long before you had finished. He showered daily, sometimes twice. You overheard Maggie and Carol make mention of how they’d never seen him so adamant to remain clean. At the end of the day, sometimes he’d join you in the perch. Other times, you fell asleep alone.

Those nights were when the men that had hurt you would penetrate your dreams, painting them thickly with a suffocating shroud of black and gray. They would corner you, reach out with their filthy fingers like claws, and you’d cower in anticipation of the pain. Always before a single inch of your skin could be marred, a wall erected itself in front of you, protecting you. A warmth would seep from the structure, enveloping you in a safety that forced the darkness from your dreams. You would wake up feeling rested but always still alone. 

Daryl, on the other hand, always looked tired. The days he appeared haggard and sluggish were when his patience flagged. He would raise his voice before he would seemingly think better of it, walk a short distance away for a cigarette, and return with that kindness again present in his exhausted gaze. 

Today was one of those days. 

You hadn’t done anything to set him off, simply cleaning the .22 pistol he’d given you while he sat on the other end of the picnic bench hunched over the table. He didn’t look at you or even check your progress, simply sitting with his elbows on the table and a hand on each side of his head. It was likely better to leave him be, just continue with your task. Attempting to engage him would most certainly lead to nothing good. 

Then he coughed. 

You made quick work of the reassembling, placed the weapon down on the cloth, and folded your hands on your lap, eyeing the archer for several minutes before he noticed no sound coming from your side of the table. Daryl dropped a hand to the flat surface and squinted red-rimmed eyes at you. He was quite pale compared to just that morning when you’d found him outside. He didn’t seem like he was sick very often. Maybe battered, bruised, and bloody but not sick. 

You pursed your lips and slid down the bench, stopping across from him to lean forward with your arms folded on the table. 

“Wha’re ya doin’?” His voice was more raspy than usual, a rougher edge that sounded uncomfortable. Your head tilted even though he seemed less than thrilled to be under your scrutiny. “G’on. Work on the gun.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, a deep sigh shifting into another cough. Daryl turned his face into his elbow and waved you toward the other side. 

You refused to budge. 

“S’wrong with ya? Got a hearin’ prob—” You could see the moment he caught himself and reined in the hostility. “Just take the day. Ya done good. Work on handlin’ the thing tomorrow.” The hunter didn’t wait for you to move. Probably just assumed you would. With his arms now folded similarly to your own, he laid his forehead on top of them with a groan. 

Your concern only grew when he didn’t sense you were still present. With a deep breath, you slid back over to grab the cloth and gun, tucking the weapon into the waistband of your jeans and the cloth into your back pocket. You would be lying if you didn’t admit to feeling a small amount of anxiety while approaching him. You needed to repeatedly remind yourself that it was Daryl and he would never hurt you. 

When close enough, you placed a hesitant palm against the back of his head. The archer flinched and quickly bolted upright, startling you in the process. 

“Th’fuck, Y/N?” He barked hoarsely. Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers loose on the too warm skin in case he pulled away. You motioned for him to follow you with the slightest tug of his arm. He was definitely confused but without knowing what you needed, he followed obediently. Your hand remained around his wrist. 

The gloom inside the prison only made Daryl look worse. He was clearly exhausted and battling what seemed to be a cold. Hopefully nothing more than that. He said nothing as you guided him up the stairs and stepped out of his way upon reaching the top. Brow knitted, he pressed the heel of his left hand against his forehead. 

“Gonna explain or m’I gettin’ three guesses?” His voice strained at the end when he tried and failed to subdue a cough. Ducking your head to catch his eye after the spell, you pointed to the mattress. “Huh?”

You deadpanned. Daryl was anything but dense. He had to be sick if he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to accomplish. You realized that your hand still held his wrist and walked backwards to urge him along, stepping up onto the mattress with what you hoped was an encouraging smile. 

Daryl did not appear to be encouraged. Wide blue eyes vibrated as he attempted to look between your own. “Y/N.” He was gentle when he extricated his arm, stepping backward with a shake of his head. 

It was your turn to be confused. You simply wanted to get him to lie down on the—oh. It started as a giggle but soon you were actually laughing, damn near startling yourself. The befuddled alarm he was wearing so exposedly gradually recast to a warm focus. You placed your palms flat together and positioned the back of a hand against your cheek with a tilt of your head, closing your eyes. 

The archer’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, his face taking on a pink hue that you definitely noticed before he ducked his head and knelt to pull the laces on his boots. It was possibly the first time you would attach the word adorable to any description of the man in front of you. Daryl was quick to redirect your regard with a finger toward your own boots on the mattress. Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you hopped off, removed the gun from your waistband, and plopped onto the sleeping bag. 

“You’re stayin’?” 

You stared, incredulous. Of course you were staying. He was sick, no matter how mild. He had stayed with you while you recovered. Why wouldn’t you return the favor? You nodded and patted the mattress. 

There was an obvious uncertainty in his approach, movements hesitant, deliberate, as if you would spook and bolt. You wished you could find it in you to speak, to reassure him you were okay and you wanted to stay. 

Your confusion regarding the archer was slowly resolving into a confident trust. You were still plagued with doubt and sometimes overwhelmed with questioning curiosity that would result in a reluctance to be near him. It was that gentle luster that would appear in those pretty eyes that would coerce you to stay. It was subtle and carefully concealed behind an opacity but easily discernible by someone who had been shown nothing by cold cruelty continually for so long. There was so much more to Daryl than he allowed the world to see. 

He sighed when he finally allowed the side of his face to sink into the pillow, turning his head to cough into the softness. You’d have to wash it once he was feeling better. Quick work was made to settle the blanket over him before his shoulders had stilled from the minor fit, his eyes appearing heavy when he rolled his head back toward you. 

“Don’t hafta stay.”

Your smile and gentle tilt of your head said where else would I go? Daryl hummed quietly, eyes slipping shut. He was asleep within moments. Maybe his lack of rest was responsible for the cold. As far as you were concerned, he could sleep until he could physically sleep no longer. Maybe you could persuade others to let him rest. 

Your knees pulled to your chest, one arm around them so you could rest your cheek there. The other hand ghosted across the fringe that had fallen over the side of his face. His skin was warm but not enough to frighten you. Maybe you could ask Carol for some tea and broth, if there was any available. You needed to speak with her anyway. Well, not really speak. Regardless, you wanted things to go back to how they were.

Dainty fingers continued to stroke across the archer’s forehead, finding an odd sense of comfort in the ability to touch him without inhibition. His demeanor while in your company was in constant fluctuation but rarely relaxed. He appeared younger in sleep, face slack without creases or pinched skin at the corners of his eyes. 

You wanted now more than ever to find your voice. You wanted to tell him how hard you would try to learn quickly. How dependable you would be once you could take care of yourself. How valuable you’d make sure you would become. You wanted to thank him. Others in the prison had done so much for you, but none more than Daryl. 

Daryl was the reason you were no longer under Big Jazz’s thumb. He was the reason you were there at the prison at all. He was training you to protect yourself and to protect others. He made you feel safe. Even with the sporadic apprehension, there was the constant blanket of safety when Daryl was near. If he hadn’t looked for you that day not too long ago… You pulled your knees impossibly closer to your body, a dull ache inside at the reminder. 

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake, even with your fingers now carding through his hair. In the quietness of the moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate how handsome the archer actually was. You had seen the first day, when he had bargained for you. Rugged, rough around the edges, but handsome. For the first time in a very, very long time, you pondered intimacy that didn’t involve subjugation and pain. You wondered how it would have felt if Daryl had taken your offer that first night. Would he have been gentle? Would he have tasted you? 

Those potentially pleasant thoughts couldn’t last once your mind pulled forth the images of him under the spray of water in the showers. Regardless of your name groaned from his lips, you could only see the raised ridges and puckered flesh littered across his back. What had he been through? Had it happened after the fall of the world? Who had hurt him and why? Carol had told you nothing and it was not something you felt you could ever ask him about. It wasn’t your business. 

Still—the thought of someone hurting him, it made you feel something you weren’t sure you remembered how to feel. 

Anger. 

You had spent so much time being conditioned to submit, remain quiet, please, you had forgotten the burn of bitter hostility toward another person. Someone you didn’t even know. You were more than justified in your hatred of the men that had taken you, tortured and defiled and humiliated you. Justified but felt so strange. Finding resentment toward an unknown person for a wrong against a man you barely knew was stranger still. 

Yet, that’s exactly what it was. You wouldn’t hesitate a single second to drive your knife home into their skull, living or dead. You’d stab them over and over, one for each raised mark on Daryl’s flesh. 

A sound from downstairs startled you from your thoughts, a simple day to day chore of some sort that was not meant to raise alarm. Still, it frightened you. Most things did, but it was getting easier to control your reactions. You realized moments later that your face was damp, the hand hovering just over Daryl’s forehead was trembling. More than that, you suddenly felt drained with an exhaustion that left you dizzy. 

Needed nowhere around the prison—your only focus meant to be training with Daryl—you decided it wouldn’t be frowned upon if you were to rest while the archer did. Most knew that wherever he was, he would be instructing you, and would only seek him in the event of an emergency. In that case, the hunter would want to be disturbed. 

Sliding down the sleeping bag, you reclined onto your side and faced Daryl, worrying your lips against one another before you reached onto the mattress and placed your palm on this forearm. He didn’t stir but inhaled deeply, seemingly settling deeper into slumber. The contact was comforting and hopefully a level of noninvasive that he wouldn’t mind. Either way, it was enough to allow you to easily follow him into a restful, dreamless sleep. 

** What Daryl whispers to reader is an excerpt from “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson